Chapter 19
Iwoke with a start. Draped over shifting strength, my back arched and my spine supple, I blinked at the ceiling and felt a deep invasion. My legs hitched obscenely over Cyderial’s thighs, bent at the knee, spread lewdly open so he could hold my hips and use me as he would, I bore down on a cock that tilted my pelvis downward, the pressure between my legs warning me not to dare resist.
He’d been fucking me while I slept.
Cock aggressively wriggling, burrowed deep, the panting male on the verge of a knot brought forth my unexpected climax.
I must have lost my plug as I dreamed, my stomach having gone flat—which only highlighted the shape of his cock, obvious beneath my flesh, working deep within my guts.
Breasts bouncing, body responding to his assault, I watched him jerk and strain under my skin until he spurted. Warm liquid began to fill me, each pulsating eruption expanding into a freshly distended belly.
With fluids to slake my thirst.
To give my body what it needed to produce more slick.
So he could fuck me somewhere else. Another part of my internal workings separate from the pocket where my addiction could be maintained. Another seizing, hungry passageway that led to my tender womb.
Preparing where my daughter would grow was strenuous work. Heady and instinctual, draining while offering a pleasure beyond description.
And we had not yet achieved whatever it was my body demanded.
I may have slept, but in the rut, he had not. Cyderial had been fucking me nonstop for days.
And if he wasn’t fucking me, he was feeding me, coaxing my lips to his cock to coat my tongue in his taste. My ability to speak in more than grunts and moans having long dried up.
But he still had the power of one word. No.
Should I crave greater violence—“No.”
Should I whimper and whine, begging with my body that he pummel me, stretch me, satiate the endless need—“No.”
Unashamed, he would restrain my hands, kiss me senseless, and be tender when I longed for ferocity. But even I could not heal at the rate my body wished to break.
Something deep inside me had yet to be breached, and it slowly drove me mad.
Just as his insistent thrusts stole my reason.
I might carry a fertilized sleeping embryo, but he had a part to play in priming my womb for life.
That was where I wanted him now, impatient for him to leave a fresh knot and worm his cock through the recently opened channel that ached for attention.
But there was no point in interfering with a male in the rut. I learned that in the first hour. He would do exactly as he willed, and I would either allow and enjoy or resist and be forced.
So I melted and accepted the pleasure of being filled, little aftershocks of orgasm brought to life when he ground into me, that knot rubbing against so many precious nerves.
Seated deep, he grumbled his approval at my waking submission, his large hands stroking my growing belly. The massage welcome. My abdomen was sore, my body bruised.
He had been on me, in me, fucking me for days.
I slept, and he penetrated me any way he wished.
I dreamed and woke with his cock playing in my slit.
I hungered, and he fed me from his dripping member, saving the meat the academy prepared and left for our use for himself.
I was exhausted.
Breathless—from the way I draped over his torso and growing far, far too full—my tongue unhinged for the first time in days. “Enough.”
Abandoning my belly, his hand slid higher to fix his grip to my throat, urging me to arch as he undulated his fingers over my windpipe. Without thought, my body moved as if it knew to obey, angling my pelvis at a great angle, so he might rock his knot even deeper and give me more.
His other hand came to my breast, finger and thumb pulling at my nipple, milking me.
Lips at my ear, he whispered, “I know what you need.”
It was that simple. I was to receive; he was to give.
Accepting another flood of cum to stretch my belly, I was on the verge of another climax with little more than another squeeze to my throat.
When sparks of pleasure subsided, all tingly from his touch, I purred, “I’m yours.”
He froze.
So still he did not even draw breath.
Only his knot within me pulsating.
Despite estrous, I realized the weight of my words and his obvious reaction to them.
My full, unpredicted submission, my acquiescence in a way I had never offered it openly.
“Tell me you love me.” It was not a kind request; it was an absolute demand by a male flexing his fingers over my windpipe.
My tender heart wasn’t ready to admit he may have possessed more than his share. Nor was I in my right mind.
Absolutely vulnerable, draped over him, my back to his chest, his hands free to roam as they willed. I could not even see his eyes.
But I knew they were narrowed and unblinking. Watching me as he considered how to force my compliance to his will.
Rocking his hips and threatening me with the hugeness of his knot, he snarled, “Female, you will tell me you love me.”
High on him, caught in estrous, but certain I’d be less if I admitted my fondness had foolishly expanded into something terrifying, I held my tongue as he held my throat.
Estrous was not the time to show him how weak he made me.
How far I’d fallen from ignorant ideals.
How quickly the inevitable had swallowed me whole.
What I needed in that moment was to deny him what he should not have demanded. I needed mercy.
But the low snarl of my agitated beast warned me I would pay for my refusal to admit he had charmed me… that I had just given myself to him.
That he would have my declaration one way or another.
As if to seal my words, his body sealed his fluids. Lumps of the waxy substance he produced to form the plug moved down this cock to stopper the passage where he pleasured me full of his gift. The tip of his dick went to work, forming that waxy stuff glob by glob so not a drop would be wasted.
When it was done, I felt him slither out of my body, my swollen slit empty, its little opening sucking at nothing as if it might hold him in.
He gave my cunt nothing but cool air, sultry as he undulated his frame under my body. “End this battle of wills. Admit that you love me. Do this, and I will give you pleasure you cannot imagine.”
He would give me pleasure regardless, my smirk dark when he turned me in his arms.
With the grace of a dangerous warrior, he moved us both until the softness of my beautiful nest came to my back. Kneeling over me, commanding and huge, his cock, slippery with our shared fluids, stroked my belly.
The treacherous male warned me with one final look.
Already, I was aching to have him back inside me, despite my complete exhaustion. Already, I considered going against my better judgment just to have my way.
That was the danger of estrous.
That was the power he had over me.
The only difference was that now I knew.
Cyderial had always owned me.
Even before we met.
Yet, to admit such a thing so soon would absolve him of every crime. To keep my obvious feelings silent was to preserve some power.
As if his very touch could spark my obedience, the thumb he ran over my lips, the way it dipped inside to tease my tongue, was a reminder that ultimately, he could get his way.
Purring, his drum made louder by the close walls, his lips curved upward. “Tell me. Tell me you love me as I love you.”
His touch left my mouth, Cyderial leaning down as if to take my throat in his teeth for a playful bite.
I stopped him with a single promise. “The day our daughter is born, and not a moment sooner, I will tell you what is hidden in my heart.”
The smile he gave me to hear even that was pure joy. As was my answering grin.
Lifting my hand to nip at my fingers, Cyderial said, “She will be safe. Understand that. She will be safe, and you will tell me you love me without any fear for her future.”
Eyes soft, his fingertips went to trace the shape of a stinging mark he left near my throat. The male had bitten me a great deal in his rut.
I scratched strange patterns into his skin in my estrous.
The pair of us were covered in wounds.
Two warriors sparring in blood and slick, calling out our pleasure with ferocity. Intermixed with soft, intimate moments like this, punctuating the seriousness of why we were in my nest.
The fostering of new life. A child soon to rest in the womb he painstakingly prepared.
Longing in his dilated gaze, he conceded to my terms with a rougher bite to my wrist. “I could make you admit it to me now.”
“I know.”
But he would be gentle with my delicate heart, and my love for him would grow all the more for it.
Because I did love him, even if I shouldn’t, and that love needed to be nurtured.
It was fragile.
It frightened me.
It excited me.
It made me think our future would be bright, because he was infinitely vigilant in his care.
In that dark, cave-like room, I reached up to cup his cheek, humming with pleasure to find him turning his lips into my palm for a kiss.
I adored when he did that.
But softness was not what estrous demanded. Sultry, I pressed my breasts toward him, my nipples swollen from how much he tongued and sucked them over the long days. “Take me from behind, as rough as you can… even if I ask you to stop.”
His room’s walls were already scored by my talons, marks that would serve as a reminder of all that happened between us in his room.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he purred, already helping me to turn.
Smirking, I shifted to my hands and knees, gazing upon the scored walls with no shame. His weight came over my back, fresh slick dripping down my thigh.
I had needed fluids, the sloshing contents of my belly a hanging reminder that he knew how to see to my needs.
But tender care was not what I needed when it came to my breeding. He knew that too.
Cock sharp and straight as an arrow, he forced himself through my internal banded resistance in one hard thrust. Each tight ring of muscle he proudly fought through, abused over the days, were now loosened enough for him to slap his hips against my ass, fully seated.
Rocked forward by the violence of his entrance, I braced one clawed hand against the wall, pained, pleasured, my muscles milking his cock for dear life and already begging for more.
Hand in my tangled hair, he yanked me back, curving my spine so I might present fully. Then he fucked me ruthlessly.
The jolt of his body hitting mine loosened my jaw, where I panted and scrambled for purchase under the onslaught.
My breasts swung, my belly clenched to hold my bloated stomach tight.
It was more than his brutal thrusts. His cock was doubling over on itself within me, stretching and expanding like a burrowing animal in my guts. He was making himself absolutely huge, a slithering, fluid-spewing, swollen weapon so close to scratching my itch.
I begged for mercy.
I cried and clawed and needed him to do anything but stop.
Yet, somehow in those battering thrusts, I found peace in our savagery. I found softening through vicious force. The sound of his grunts were music to my hearts. The rage of his roars when I tried to pull away—proof he would never let me go.
Sobbing when I felt something inside me finally give, a raging, violent release vibrated through my nerves. Internally, I choked down around him and knew I must belong to that vicious man until the day I died.
Even flawed as he was.
Having reached the part of me that finally gave way, he set his growing knot deep to hold me open while he painted my insides with exactly what I craved.
Relishing his roar, I knew pure light. It washed through me body and soul, bringing me to an orgasm bigger than my body, bigger than even his love for me, pounding me with sensations too massive to survive.
Amassing indescribable pleasure built into one huge burst.
Our work was done.
My body had been conquered and given what it needed to nurture new life.
And nothing—no pleasure, nor touch, nor catastrophe—could possibly keep me awake.
I fell from heaven straight into dreamless sleep.
The next I woke, I was pregnant.
A very happy male was lying beside me, smiling at me in the dark as he green eyes glittered.
“You are flawless, my beautiful, little Lorieyn.” His voice was like velvet, soft music that soothed me as I nestled closer. Where I was held in his arms, the male now gentle and at peace.