Chapter 39
Hanna
Savla gave my legs a little yank to drag me to the edge of the table. My blissed-out body didn’t feel anything except sparking nerve-endings and pleasure.
I was certain I was flooded with endorphins. I’d feel the bite-marks, the scrapes of wood against my back later. For now, there was nothing but joy and pleasure.
I moaned, his scent filling my nostrils. It was breathtaking. Before I could tell him so, I felt something nudging against my pussy.
Still drunk on his tongue, I looked down at the space between us to see the blunt head of his huge cock pressing against me. My breath hitched at the sheer size of him.
“Savla—” I gasped, arching into him.
“Zoga,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Say it again.”
I leaned up, grabbing his shoulders—strong, solid and warm enough to burn—and pulled him toward me until our foreheads touched.
“Savla,” I whispered, breath trembling.
His whole body shuddered. The bond surged between us, flaring so bright the tools on the bench rattled. The air tasted like lightning, like fate, like something ancient remembering itself.
He kissed me again—harder, deeper—and for a dizzy, breathless, moment, I thought we might burn straight through the table.
“Hanna…” His voice was wrecked. “If tonight goes any further, I’m not letting you go.”
“Then don’t,” I whispered against his lips.
He pushed against me, but instead of slipping inside the way I expected him to—especially considering how wet I was, he didn’t go anywhere. I canted my hips to help him, but nothing happened. A mewling sound left me.
“Is this...” I gasped, rocking my hips.
His claws dug into my hips, but not enough to penetrate my skin.
“You can take me,” he reassured me, licking against my lips before pressing one hand against my breastbone and pushing until I was lying on the table again. “Relax, Zoga.”
I nodded as he gripped his cock with one hand and my hip with his other. But then he glanced up, and it looked like he distracted himself with my body, licking his lips.
His huge hands spread against my belly, sliding down. He sunk a single finger inside of me, and it was so much bigger than one of my own, I almost screamed. When his progress stopped, he gently worked me open.
He leaned down to lick my shoulder, a broad swipe on my skin, and maybe half of an inch sunk in. A single step on a journey that seemed impossible.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, and I shook my head, eager for more. “Are you too full?”
My brow furrowed and I shook my head hard.
“I want more,” I demanded, and I watched his lips curve, entranced by his smile, as always. I tried to take more of his fingers, pushing against his hand, but he stopped me so easily, it was almost embarrassing.
“Hey,” he murmured, “I want this so much.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder again. “But we can’t rush this. I can’t hurt you, Zoga. I’d rather hurt myself.” His expression was so sincere, so purely in love that I couldn’t respond. I nodded, more subdued this time.
“My sweet, good mate,” he whispered, brushing his lips against my jaw, and he was able to sink his finger in enough that he could slowly, relentlessly work another one inside, tucked next to the first.
Gods, this was why he kept the claws of his right hand filed.
I clenched around his fingers hard enough to make him grunt with longing. The stretch was so good that I couldn’t help but squirm. My fingernails dug into his arm, his wrist, trying to find something, anything to help me bear everything that I was feeling.
My hips refused to stay still, my entire body on fire. I needed more.
The laugh that left him was rough and shaky. He placed another loving, soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“You were born to take me, Zoga. A little more?”
I was losing my grasp on reality. Sweat dripped from his body onto mine, and I shook from head to toe, contracting around his fingers that were too thick but also not thick enough. I was on the edge, and the finish line was so close again.
He’s going to kill me with orgasms. I’ve gone from 0 orgasms in years to this.
“Take them a little deeper,” he purred against my skin, murmuring more words of low encouragement.
Gods, look at you. Just a little... yes.
And then he was there again, his thick cock pressing against the entrance to my pussy, biting my lower lip as he eased inside. This time, the first couple of inches slipped right in.
“Yes,” I gasped, drawing up my knees, unable to stop myself. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He winced and smiled at the same time and there was something so charming about it. So young
“We’re getting there,” he groaned, closing his fangs gently around the edge of my earlobe. “Just be patient.”
The next thing I knew, his hand wrapped around my throat, his thumb and index finger on either side of my jaw. He didn’t press, but it was a warning not to move, a reminder that he was in charge. And I almost came from the feel of it.
“Stop,” he whispered against my ear. “Don’t make me come too soon. Let me get you used to it.”
I stilled my lower body from where I’d been rocking against him, only just realizing that I’d been doing it. When I tipped my head to the side and scraped my teeth along his jaw, he cursed under his breath.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, and his control snapped.
Our eyes met as his hold on my neck moved upward, fingers splayed open, pressing on my chin. His index and middle finger dipped into my mouth, sliding over my tongue. The grip tightened to stop me from moving my head again, but still, nothing hurt. It just all felt so good. So right.
And then his cock drove deeper inside of me. Unrelenting. So big, so thick and almost too much. I begged for more of it around his fingers, even as every sinking inch of it had me pushing my palms against his shoulders to shove him back a little.
Not because of pain, but because of intensity. And he knew it, because he didn’t stop. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and my heels dug into him, trying for more, even as my hands still pushed. I was trying to make room for more, but I wasn’t certain that that room existed.
“Breathe,” he told me. “Just breathe.”
I tried, but I wasn’t able to bring myself to say that I couldn’t. I wanted everything from him. I was babbling things that didn’t make any sense, clawing at bulging muscles of his upper arms and holding onto large expanses of his shoulders where the sweat was making my palms slip.
All throughout, Savla did exactly what I needed. We were past words and gestures. Past the ability to lie to each other.
“Savla?” I whimpered.
“I know,” he murmured against my skin, swiping his tongue over it to taste my sweat.
And then he bit down hard, strong enough to still my breath in my throat again, but not quite enough. Painful, but amazing.
I felt it before I understood it. A shift in the air. A pull in my magick. A tension in Savla’s body that wasn’t desire—not exactly. Something older. Deeper.
He had me wrapped in his arms, breath hot against my neck. The bond was humming so intensely under my skin I didn’t know where my heartbeat ended and his began.
But then he stilled. Completely.
“S-Savla?” I whispered, trying to pull away so I could look at him.
His arms tightened—not to restrain, but to steady. “Don’t move.”
There was a sound in his voice I hadn’t heard before. A reverent sort of desperation. Like he was fighting something and losing on purpose.
My breath hitched. “What’s happening?”
His lips brushed the side of my neck—soft, trembling—and I felt him inhale, long and shuddering, as if memorizing my scent.
“The bond,” he murmured. “It’s… calling to me.”
I swallowed hard. “To do what?”
He didn’t answer right away. His hands slid up my arms, slow and warm, tracing the line of my shoulders as if choosing the exact place to touch me. His breath grew uneven and my pussy clenched hard around the scant inches of his cock that were inside me.
Then, in a voice barely more than a growl against my skin, he said, “To claim what’s mine.”