Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Daphne
Iwoke to fire.
Not the gentle warmth of before, this was an inferno, blazing through my veins, turning my blood to molten lava.
The nest was damp with sweat, mine and Oliver's mingled together, and his scent still clung to my skin like a second layer, but it wasn't enough.
The mark on my neck throbbed with each heartbeat, a dull pulse of satisfaction that radiated down my spine, but the rest of me was screaming for more.
The emptiness between my thighs had returned with a vengeance, a hollow ache that made me want to claw at my own skin.
Oliver was gone. I didn't remember him leaving, only the vague sensation of lips on my forehead, murmured words I couldn't parse through the fog of exhausted sleep.
The nest felt too big without him, too empty, too cold despite the heat radiating from my feverish skin.
I curled into myself, pressing my thighs together, whimpering at the ache that only intensified with the pressure.
The door opened. Garrett filled the frame, all dark eyes and coiled tension, his massive shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe on either side.
He was shirtless already, and the sight of him made my mouth go dry, made slick gush between my thighs in a Pavlovian response I couldn't have controlled if I'd tried.
Broad chest covered in dark hair that caught the low light, muscles carved from years of hard labor, hauling lumber, swinging hammers, building things with those big, calloused hands.
A scar ran along his left ribs, silvery and old, and another bisected his right shoulder, souvenirs from a life lived hard and physical.
His stomach was ridged with muscle, not the sculpted kind you got from a gym but the functional kind that came from real work, and a trail of dark hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, drawing my eye down to where the denim strained over an unmistakable bulge.
He looked like something carved from the earth itself, solid and immovable and impossibly real.
"Daphne." My name in his mouth was gravel and smoke, rough enough to scrape against my already raw nerves.
His nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of the room—of me, of heat, of the desperate need pouring off my skin in waves.
I watched his pupils dilate, swallowing the dark brown of his irises until only a thin ring remained.
"Christ. I could smell you from downstairs.
Nearly put my fist through the wall waiting. "
"Then stop waiting," I gasped, reaching for him with trembling hands. "Garrett, please—it hurts—"
He crossed the room in two strides, and then he was in the nest with me, his weight making the mattress dip dramatically, his heat rolling off him like a furnace.
The scent of him—cedar and woodsmoke and something darker, muskier, pure alpha arousal, wrapped around me and made my head spin.
Up close, I could see the strain in his jaw, the way the muscle jumped beneath his beard, the way his hands shook as they hovered over my body, not quite touching.
He was holding himself back by a thread, and I wanted to snap it.
"Look at you," he breathed, his eyes raking over my naked body with an intensity that made me squirm against the tangled blankets.
His gaze lingered on my breasts, my stomach, the glistening wetness visible between my thighs.
"Fucking look at you. Oliver's mark on your neck, his scent all over you, his cum still dripping out of you, and still you need more.
" His voice dropped to a growl. "Greedy little omega. "
The words should have stung. Instead, they made heat pool low in my belly, made my inner walls clench around nothing, made slick gush between my thighs until I could feel it soaking into the sheets beneath me. I was greedy. I wanted all of them, every last one, and I wasn't ashamed of it anymore.
"Yes," I hissed, grabbing his wrist and dragging his hand to my breast. His palm was rough, calloused, and the texture against my sensitive nipple made me gasp. "I'm greedy. I want you. I want your knot, your mark, everything. Give it to me."
Something snapped behind his eyes.
He was on me before I could draw another breath, his mouth crashing against mine with bruising force.
There was nothing gentle about this kiss, it was teeth and tongue and raw, primal hunger, the kind that devoured.
His beard scraped my chin, my cheeks, rough bristles dragging across skin already sensitized by the heat until I knew I'd be red and raw for hours.
I loved the burn of it, loved the way it marked me as thoroughly as any bite.
His tongue plundered my mouth, tasting every corner, stroking against mine with a dominance that made me melt into the mattress beneath him.
He tasted like coffee and something sweeter, maybe the honey Levi put in everything, and underneath it all, the unmistakable taste of alpha.
I sucked on his tongue and felt him groan into my mouth, the vibration traveling through both of us.
His hands were everywhere, cupping my breasts, squeezing roughly until I whimpered, rolling my nipples between calloused fingers with a pressure that bordered on painful.
He pinched, and I cried out into his mouth, my back arching off the bed.
He did it again, harder, and the pain transformed into pleasure so sharp it made my vision blur.
"Sensitive," he muttered against my lips, not a question. He tugged at my nipples, stretching them, and I keened, my hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in. "So fucking sensitive. Bet I could make you come just from this."
"Garrett—" I gasped, but he was already moving, his mouth replacing his fingers on my breast. He sucked my nipple into his mouth, hard, his tongue flicking against the peaked flesh while his teeth grazed just enough to sting.
The sensation shot straight to my core, making me buck beneath him, my hips seeking friction that wasn't there.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment—sucking, licking, biting until I was writhing and begging and half out of my mind.
"Please," I sobbed, my hands fisting in his hair, trying to push him lower. "Please, Garrett, I need—"
"I know what you need." He released my nipple with an obscene pop and looked up at me, his beard wet with saliva, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Gonna give it to you. Every fucking inch.
But first—" He kissed down my sternum, his beard scraping, his tongue leaving a wet trail that cooled in the air and made me shiver.
"First, I'm gonna taste how sweet you taste. "
He kissed down my stomach, pausing to nip at the soft flesh, to suck bruises into my hips that would last for days. I was trembling now, every muscle strung tight, anticipation coiling in my stomach like a spring wound too tight.
"Been thinking about this," he murmured against my hip, his breath hot on my skin.
“ Every time I saw you, I thought about spreading you open, burying my face between your thighs, making you come on my tongue until you forgot your own name.
" He bit down on my hip bone, hard enough to bruise, and I yelped.
"Thought about what you'd taste like. What sounds you'd make.
Whether you'd pull my hair when I made you come. "
"Garrett—" I tried to speak, to beg, but then his hands were gripping my thighs, spreading them wide, and his mouth was on me.
I screamed. There was no finesse to it, no slow build.
Garrett ate me like he was starving for it, like I was the first meal he'd had in months and he intended to savor every bite.
His tongue plunged inside me, thick and hot, fucking me with short, sharp strokes that made my hips buck off the mattress.
He growled against my flesh, the vibration making me cry out, and used his grip on my thighs to hold me open, spread wide for his feasting.
His stubble was rough against my inner thighs, scraping the sensitive skin raw, and I didn't care.
I wanted more of it, wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted to be marked by him inside and out.
I could hear the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on me, could feel my slick smearing across his face, and the knowledge of how messy this was, how primal, only made me wetter.
"Fuck, you taste good," he groaned against my core, the words vibrating against my clit and making me jerk.
"Sweeter than anything. Like honey and want and fucking heaven.
" He licked a broad stripe from my entrance to my clit, then circled the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.
"Could live between these thighs. Could die here and be happy. "
His tongue lashed at my clit while two thick fingers pushed inside me, stretching me, preparing me for what was to come.
I was already so wet, so open from Oliver, but Garrett's fingers were thicker, I could feel my body straining to accommodate even this much, the slight burn of the stretch only adding to the overwhelming sensation.
"So tight," he muttered, curling his fingers in a way that made stars explode behind my eyes.
"Even after Oliver filled you up. Even with his cum still inside you.
This pretty little cunt is still so fucking tight.
" He pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, fucking me with them while his tongue continued its assault on my clit.
"Can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.
Can't wait to stretch this greedy hole open on my knot. "