Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I was still pressed against the study wall, Lorenzo’s body flush against mine, his hand securely on my hip while his mouth moved along my neck.

The air surrounding us felt thick with his scent, cold, clean, and expensive, now tinged with a clear arousal that made every breath I took feel like a mistake.

Scattered across the desk behind us were the torn remnants of divorce papers, the last sign that the temporary arrangement was over.

Yet none of that mattered because the way he held me against him felt frustratingly effortless even as I was at the top of my physical game here.

Fuck these Alphas and their ridiculous strength...

My heart raced, loud enough that I could hear it thudding in my ears, and I hated how my body was betraying me, slick between my legs, putting me in a furious, mortified state that felt almost hysterical.

There was no fucking way I was turned on by this crap, this all had to be some strange wet dream!

Without really thinking, I exploded into action, desperate to create some space. I twisted against the wall and tried to jab my elbow into his ribs while stomping on his foot, throwing every curse I could think of at him.

"Get the hell off me!" I spat, my voice ragged from a throat that felt too tight. "You lying, deal-breaking psychopath...I swear I’ll scream this whole mansion down if you don’t let me go!"

But every attempt to pull away only shoved me closer against his solid body, and the friction sent another jolt through me, blending rage with panic and unwanted desire.

At first, Lorenzo didn’t even tighten his grip; he just changed his weight calmly and began to grind against me in slow and measured rolls of his hips, his hard length pressing firmly against my backside through our clothes, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

It felt almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world, and the heat from him seeped through the fabric, making my legs wobbly.

He leaned in close, his voice low and oddly gentle, even against the backdrop of what he was doing to me.

"You keep saying ’let me go’... but your body’s telling me another story. Which is it, Omega?"

That question hit me like a match tossed into my remaining composure.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and the humiliation of knowing he was right, knowing my body was reacting despite my protests collided with the fury that insisted this shouldn’t be happening at all.

I twisted harder, trying again to get my elbow into him, but felt his firm chest steady against my back while his slow movements continued.

"Neither," I managed to push out through clenched teeth, sarcasm cracking under the pressure. "The only thing my body wants is for you to be six feet under! Get off me!"

A little whimper almost escaped when he ground particularly deep, and I bit it back hard enough to taste blood.

Stupid Omegan biology! Stupid everything!

He answered with a gentle, almost affectionate kiss on my cheek, the tenderness clashing with the forcefulness of his hold, making the entire situation more disorienting.

In one smooth motion, he spun me around so we were face-to-face.

One hand captured both my wrists, pinning them high above my head against the wall while his body kept me trapped.

Now, I had nowhere to look but at the calm, satisfied expression on his face.

God, I wanted to bite his goddamn nose off!

Just to see how satisfied he’d be then.

His scent enveloped me even more without my back separating us, cold and clean and now heavily laced with arousal, almost suffocating in its intensity.

I could sense how hard he was, how much he enjoyed this, and the sheer unfairness of it all made me want to set the study ablaze.

I kept hurling insults, my voice cracking more than once as the reality of my position sank in.

Lorenzo only watched me, that soft-spoken satisfaction on his face, sometimes brushing against the scent gland at my neck and inhaling deeply, letting out a quiet, pleased sound that vibrated against my skin.

"Just look at you," he murmured, delight coloring his words. "I’ve been waiting months to see this side of you. Keep fighting me, tesoro...you’re even more stunning when you’re angry."

Every insult I threw at him only seemed to make his eyes darken with pleasure instead of anger, and the way he effortlessly used his weight to keep me pinned made my struggles feel increasingly pointless.

At one point, my knees buckled under the combined pressure of his scent and heat, and he simply pressed a thigh between my legs to keep me from falling, the casual move proving more devastating than any threat could be.

That solid thigh pressed right against the wet seam of my pants, and it felt far too intentional.

Of course, it was.

Fucking bastard.

While I was still sputtering and trying to twist away, his free hand moved lower.

He cupped me through my pants with slow, calculated strokes that made my hips jerk despite every effort to stay still, and he locked eyes with me the whole time, soaking in every flinch and involuntary reaction like he was cataloguing it for later.

He said softly, his words somehow sharp. "Struggling so hard... pretending you don’t want this. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?"

A small smile curved his lips as he continued those strokes. "Who exactly are you saving yourself for, Alex? You’re already married to me. You’re mine."

The combination of that question and his assertion sent another wave of embarrassment crashing through my mind.

I tried to twist my wrists free, but all I could feel was his unyielding grip, the heat of his palm against me making it harder to think straight.

"I’m saving myself for someone who isn’t a deal-breaking bastard," I managed to say, though my voice wavered more than I wanted.

"And you can take that ’mine’ talk and shove it up your— ahh!"

My words cut short in a sharp, humiliating gasp as his fingers pressed down firmly, rubbing circles that found the exact spot where I was the wettest.

The sensation was obscene, and the way my body pushed back into it was even worse.

He interrupted my thoughts, murmuring almost thoughtfully,

"You’re already hard and dripping for me and I’ve barely touched you... what will you be like when I finally take you as your husband?"

His words landed like a block, and I lost my chance to insult him.

As I struggled to respond, he expertly popped the button of my pants open and slowly dragged down the zipper, the sound echoing in the quiet study.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband just enough to graze my skin, the contact light and utterly overwhelming.

Heat surged under his fingertips while more slickness pooled in response, and I knew he could feel it because that smirk on his face widened just a bit.

"Fuck you," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and something even more embarrassing.

He smirked, "Oh? You want to fuck me, already?"

I glared at him so hard, he would have died minutes ago if looks could kill.

"No, you maniac!" I yelled, "Fuck you and the fact that my body is betraying me."

Lorenzo’s thumb stroked slowly along the edge of my underwear.

"I intend to," he replied simply, almost kindly. "Thoroughly, repeatedly. Until the only name you remember to curse is mine."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing the damp fabric, never quite giving me the pressure I both hated and craved.

"But first, I’m going to relish every second of you fighting me, tesoro. You’re exquisite like this...angry and wet."

I swear, I was going to kill him.

Just as soon as my legs felt like working again.

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