Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 171

Alpha’s Private Plaything

Chapter 171

Elsa

I pushed against Drake’s chest with all my strength, breaking our kiss.

“Drake!” I hissed, keeping my voice low enough that the rest of his family wouldn’t hear us from the dining room. My heart hammered wildly, trapped between fury and that treacherous heat spreading

through my body.

“Are you fucking insane?” I whispered harshly, glancing nervously at

the kitchen door, my fingers digging into the countertop behind me.

“This is your family’s house, for god’s sake!”

Drake’s eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction, his hands still

gripping my hips possessively. “So?” he murmured against my neck,

his breath hot on my skin. “It’s not like we haven’t done this here

before.”

His fingers slid beneath the edge of the apron I’d borrowed, seeking

bare skin. I squirmed away, pushing at his chest again, my teeth

clenched in frustration.

“I’m not your goddamn assistant anymore,” I said, trying to infuse my

voice with as much dignity as I could muster while pinned against his

refrigerator, my pulse racing. “I’m Elsa, a woman with self–respect and

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dignity.”

Drake laughed, the sound low and mocking. “Is there a difference?

You’re still you.”

Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine again, and despite

everything–despite all the pain and anger and resentment–my body

betrayed me. My lips parted for him as his hands cupped my ass,

lifting me slightly. I hated myself for it, hated the way my body

remembered his touch, responded to his scent. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I

cursed silently as heat pooled between my legs.

“You still want me,” he growled against my mouth, one hand sliding

between my legs, pressing against me through my skirt. “I can smell it

on you.”

I turned my face away, shame burning through me as my body

betrayed my mind. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails

digging into my palms. “Just… get it over with,” I whispered, closing

my eyes as his fingers worked their familiar magic, a small, traitorous

moan escaping my lips.

Minutes later, as I hastily washed my hands at the sink and

straightened my clothing, I felt nothing but disgust–at him, but

mostly at myself. I yanked off the flour–covered apron, tossing it into

the laundry basket with more force than necessary. “Shit,” I muttered

under my breath, noticing a faint mark on my neck. My hands still

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trembled as I smoothed down my hair and checked my reflection in

the toaster.

Just keep it together for another hour, you pathetic mess, I told

myself, blinking back angry tears. Then you never have to see these

people again.

“Is the berry tart ready?” Miranda called from the dining room. “We’re

all eager for dessert!”

I took a deep breath, forcing my features into a neutral expression

before lifting the serving tray. I counted to three silently, willing my

racing heart to slow down. “Coming right now,” I called hack, my voice

steadier than I felt.

As I entered the dining room, Drake appeared from the opposite

doorway, having removed his suit jacket. He wore only his white dress

shirt now, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. The scent of our

encounter still clung to him, and I noticed Mrs. Stone’s nose twitch.

slightly–wolves and their damned sense of smell. I felt my cheeks

flush as I carefully set down the tray of traditional Black Obsidian

pack puddings, decorated with silver dust that caught the light. My

fingers gripped the tray so hard they turned white at the knuckles.

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“Oh, these look divine!” Miranda exclaimed, clapping her hands

together. “Elsa, you haven’t lost your touch at all.”

Mrs. Stone, Drake’s grandmother, beamed at me. “Drake’s favorite

recipe, if I recall correctly. Nobody makes berry tart quite like you do,

dear.” Her eyes twinkled knowingly. “You truly understand our pack’s

traditions. It would be lovely to have you visit more often.”

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