Chapter 19 Thine and Feral #2
"This is my religion," he growls against me, the vibration making me shudder. "You're my holy scripture, my salvation, my damnation all in one divine package."
Each word feels like fire against my skin, his unholy benediction driving me higher as his tongue works magic between my thighs.
My entire body seizes as the pleasure crashes through me, his name tearing from my throat in a desperate cry.
My legs shake violently, threatening to give out, but Cain's grip keeps me upright as wave after wave of ecstasy pulses through me.
He doesn't stop, his tongue relentless against my oversensitive flesh until I'm sobbing his name, begging for mercy and more all at once.
"That's it," he growls against me, rising to his feet with predatory grace. "Let me hear you. Let everyone downstairs know exactly who's making you feel this good."
Before I can catch my breath, he's spinning me around, pressing my chest against the wall. I hear the urgent sound of his zipper, feel the heat of him against my back.
"Need to be inside you," he growls, kicking my legs wider apart, pulling my hips out. "Need to feel you around me."
"Please," I gasp, pushing back against him, desperate to be filled. "I need you."
In one powerful thrust, he's inside me, stretching me, filling me so completely I see stars. My palms slap against the wall as I brace myself; a broken moan escapes my lips, loud enough that I'm sure everyone downstairs can hear.
"That's it," Cain growls, his breath hot against my ear. "Let them hear who you belong to."
His hips snap forward in a brutal rhythm, each thrust driving me higher against the wall. My toes barely touch the ground as he holds me up, one hand gripping my hip while the other slides around to cup my breast.
"You're a fucking miracle," he murmurs, teeth grazing my shoulder. "My own personal salvation wrapped in sin."
I reach back, fingers tangling in his hair as he pounds into me. "You feel like heaven," I gasp, the words broken by each thrust. "Like I was empty before you filled me."
His rhythm falters for just a moment, like my words have undone something in him. Then he's moving faster, harder, a man possessed.
"No one else gets to see you like this," he growls. "No one else gets to touch you like this," he vows, his voice a ragged prayer against my ear. "You're mine, Mags. My divine revelation. My fucking altar."
I arch my back, pressing myself against him as his thrusts grow more desperate, more primal. Every word he speaks ignites something wild inside me—something that needs to answer his unholy devotion with my own.
"Your salvation," I gasp, the words spilling from me like a confession. "Your worship. Your religion."
His rhythm falters for just a heartbeat, like my words have struck something sacred in him.
"Say it again," he demands, his hand sliding from my hip to curl around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, claiming.
"I am your religion," I breathe, each word punctuated by his thrusts. "Your sanctuary. Your holy ground."
He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest against my back. "Christ, you're perfect. My fucking miracle."
His fingers slide between my legs, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with devastating precision. The pleasure builds again, impossibly fast, a tidal wave I can't hope to resist.
"Yes," I gasp, the pleasure spiraling higher, tighter, impossibly intense. "Right there, don't stop!"
His fingers work their magic, circling that perfect spot while he fills me completely. The dual sensation sends me hurtling over the edge. I shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. My inner walls clench around him, pulsing with each throb of release.
"That's it," he growls against my ear, his voice rough with pride and desire. "So beautiful when you come for me. My perfect little sinner."
My legs tremble violently, my entire body boneless as the aftershocks ripple through me. I can barely stand, barely breathe.
"I can't," I pant, feeling him still rock-hard inside me. "Cain, I can't take any more."
His teeth graze my earlobe, his hips still moving in slow, deliberate thrusts that make me whimper with oversensitivity.
"Yes, you can," he murmurs, his voice like gravel wrapped in velvet. "Be a good girl and give me one more. One more, Mags."
"I—I can't," I gasp, my body trembling uncontrollably against the wall. My legs feel like they might give out entirely, pleasure bordering on pain as he continues to move inside me.
Cain's hand slides up to cradle my jaw, turning my face so I can see the fire in his eyes. "You can," he whispers, his voice a dark promise against my ear. "I know you have one more in you. I can feel you still wanting it."
His fingers circle that sensitive bundle of nerves again, making me jerk and cry out. "Please—"
"Be my good girl," he urges, his rhythm slowing to something deep and deliberate that hits exactly where I need him. "Give me one more, baby. One more, Mags."
The way he says my name—like a prayer, like salvation—breaks something open inside me.
I surrender completely, letting him guide me toward that impossible peak again.
His body covers mine completely, protective even in his dominance, his chest pressed against my back as he works me toward another release.
"That's it," he groans, feeling my body respond. "So perfect for me. So divine."
The pleasure builds inside me again, crashing over me like a tidal wave. I'm splintering, fragmenting into a thousand pieces of light as Cain holds me through it, his praise washing over me like holy water.
"So good for me," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Taking me so perfectly. My divine little sinner."
My body convulses around him, squeezing him tight as I come apart for the third time. It's too much—it's everything—and I'm sobbing his name, begging for mercy and more all at once.
"Fuck," he growls, his rhythm faltering. "I can't—you feel—too good, too fucking good—"
His voice breaks as he comes undone inside me, his entire body trembling against mine as he pulses deep within me. His forehead drops to my shoulder, breath hot and ragged against my sweat-slicked skin.
For several moments, there's nothing but our mingled breathing and the distant sound of the bar below. My legs are still shaking, my entire body limp against the wall as Cain holds me up, his arms like steel bands around my waist.
When he finally pulls out, I whimper at the loss. He turns me gently, cradling me against his chest as we both slide down to the floor. I curl into him, boneless and spent, as he strokes my hair with trembling fingers.
"I love you," he murmurs against my temple, his voice rough and raw with emotion. "Fucking hell, Mags, I love you so much it terrifies me."
The words wash over me like warm honey, seeping into places I didn't know were still cold. I tilt my face up to meet his gaze, finding his eyes softer than I've ever seen them—vulnerable in a way that makes my heart ache. I've never seen him so open, so raw.
"I love you too," I whisper, the words feeling inadequate for the storm of emotion in my chest. "More than I ever thought possible."
He kisses me then—gentle, almost reverent—a stark contrast to the desperate passion of moments before. His hands cradle my face like I'm something precious, something he can't quite believe is real.
"You were magnificent today," he murmurs against my lips. "Standing up to that bastard like you were born for it."
I smile, feeling the truth of it deep in my bones. "It felt right. Like I was finally speaking with my real voice."
"Because you were." His thumb traces my bottom lip, eyes following the movement with naked adoration. "That's who you've been all along, little rabbit. Fierce, unstoppable, divine. He just tried to bury her."
The sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupts us, followed by Hank's voice calling out.
"Hey, you two decent? Bar's getting slammed down here. Could use some backup if you're done… celebrating."
Cain groans, pressing his forehead to mine. “He had no idea who he was fucking with.”
I grin, breathless and buzzing. “No. But he does now.”
He chuckles low, the sound dark and full of heat. “Damn right he does.”
Another beat passes between us, thick with adrenaline and something heavier—something sacred.
“I’ll go help Hank,” I whisper, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “You cool off in here before you set the bar on fire with that look.”
His smirk turns feral. “Too late for that, little rabbit.”
I toss him a wink and head for the stairs, still tingling all over. My voice might be raw, my hands still a little shaky, but my spine?
Straight as steel.
Because Cain's right—I wasn’t made by Warren.
I was forged by fire. And I finally remembered how to burn.