Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
VIVIENNE HAWTHORNE
O rion hovers over me, his body heat, strength, power all wrapped in one. My breath catches as he trails his lips down my throat, each kiss sparking a deeper ache inside me. But this isn’t just physical—it’s more.
I can feel him.
Not just the press of his body against mine, but inside me. His emotions, his hunger, his desperation thrumming in sync with mine. The bond between us is alive, pulsing like a second heartbeat, fusing us together in a way I never imagined.
I need more.
My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans, his lips crushing against mine.
“Vivienne,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. His forehead presses against mine, his breath hot and unsteady.
I arch against him, rolling my hips, feeling the hard length of him pressing against my core. I need him. Now.
“Please,” I whisper, my nails digging into his back.
His entire body shudders.
His hands grip my thighs, pushing them apart, and I feel the thick tip of him sliding against me, teasing, coaxing me open.
I gasp, my head falling back, the anticipation coiling so tight inside me I feel like I might break.
He moves slowly, pressing in, and I feel everything—the stretch, the heat, the unbearable pleasure that rips through me as he fills me completely.
A moan breaks from my lips.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s perfect.
I feel him groan against my throat, his fingers digging into my hips, anchoring himself.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re so—” He cuts himself off, shuddering.
He doesn’t need to say it.
I feel it.
Because I can feel him.
Every inch of him inside me, the overwhelming pleasure crashing into me twice over—his and mine, mixing through the bond, feeding off each other, amplifying everything.
I can’t breathe.
My fingers clutch his shoulders, my legs wrapping tighter around him as he pulls back, only to thrust in again—harder this time.
I cry out, my body pulsing with every movement, every deep, perfect stroke.
He growls against my skin, his lips tracing along my jaw, my ear, my throat. “I can feel you,” he groans.
So can I.
Not just his body, but his pleasure. His need. His desperation.
The bond twists tighter, making every thrust feel deeper, harder, more intoxicating.
My head spins, my nails dragging down his back as he pounds into me, stretching me, filling me, claiming me.
He’s losing control.
And so am I.
Our pleasure feeds into each other, loops endlessly, like fire burning from both ends. I feel him pulse inside me, feel his own need to let go, to give in, to mark me forever.
The rhythm quickens, sharpens. His hips snap into mine, my body lifting with every thrust, my breath ragged, broken.
“Orion—” I gasp, shaking.
“I’ve got you,” he growls, his lips crashing against mine. His kiss is fire and ruin.
My toes curl, my muscles locking up as my orgasm claws its way to the surface, tearing through me so violently, so beautifully, I don’t even realize I’m screaming his name until my voice echoes through the room.
Power surges between us, an explosion of gold and silver light, flooding through our connection, searing us together in body, in soul, in magic.
Orion groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, his grip bruising as he slams into me one last time, spilling into me with a deep, ragged moan.
His body trembles, collapsing against mine, his breath hot and uneven against my neck.
I feel everything.
His pleasure. His relief. His love.
And I know—nothing will ever be the same.
We are bound.
Forever.