Chapter Twenty-One #2
His tongue drives over my slit with hard, rough, and unapologetic movements; licking deep and aggressively, almost as if he’s scrubbing me clean from the inside out. I cry out, back bowing violently, the sensation almost too much—too intense on skin that’s already raw, already sensitized.
He doesn’t care.
“That’s him,” he growls against me, tongue plunging again. “I can taste him.”
My thighs shake uncontrollably.
“And I fucking hate it.”
He eats me as if it’s a punishment for both of us. His tongue is rough and relentless, while his nose is pressed hard into me, breathing me in like fuel. His hands keep me spread, fingers biting into my skin and holding me open no matter how hard I writhe.
“Mine,” he snarls. “This little pussy is mine.”
He shoves his tongue inside me again, deeper this time, forcing a sob out of me as my body clenches helplessly around nothing.
“You feel how wet you are?” he mutters. “How used?”
I whimper, and he laughs, dark and broken.
His mouth suddenly drags lower without warning, tongue flattening as it presses between my cheeks. I gasp sharply, humiliation and pleasure colliding so hard it makes my vision blur.
“Don’t think I won’t smell him here too,” he growls. “You think I’m leaving any part of you unclaimed?”
His tongue works over my ass now, thorough in a way that makes my whole body shake. He licks and presses, his breath hot and unforgiving, making sure of it. Making sure he’s satisfied.
I’m losing my mind.
Despite it all, I can’t stop watching him. Can’t stop the way my hips lift, how my body offers itself even as my hands fist in the sheets like I’m fighting him.
This is unreal.
Too much. Too good.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth is slick, and his eyes are blown wide. His pupils are huge and wild, and he looks feral. Gone.
Rut has him now.
“Better,” he says hoarsely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now you only smell like mine.”
Then he flips me.
There’s no warning: just his hands locking around my waist and hauling me up, forcing me onto all fours like I’m nothing more than prey. My face hits the mattress with a muffled cry, arms buckling beneath me as my knees scramble for traction.
He doesn’t pause. Not even when he spreads me open, his thumbs dragging roughly across my cheeks, exposing everything with a filthy, possessive growl.
“Fucking look at this mess,” he grits out. “Slick everywhere. Stretched open and leaking like a bitch in heat.”
He drags the head of his cock through the drenched mess between my thighs, slow and cruel, letting me feel every inch of how ready he is.
“You’re sore,” he murmurs, voice thick with rage and something darker. “Still stretched from his knot.”
I whimper, and he laughs, the sound low and mean.
“Good.”
He grabs the base of his cock, rubs it against my swollen entrance, and then lowers one hand to press between my cheeks, dragging his fingers through the slick there too—coating me, spreading me wider.
“You think I’m letting you walk around with another alpha’s come inside you?” he snarls. “You think I’m going to let you keep that?”
His cock presses at my entrance. I brace—
And then he slams in.
One brutal thrust, fast and deep and punishing.
I scream into the mattress, my body seizing around him, every nerve ending firing at once. The stretch is unbearable: he’s thicker than Connor, longer too, and the angle has him grinding right against the spots that haven’t even recovered yet.
But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let me adjust. Instead, he buries himself to the hilt and stays there, panting above me.
“You’re mine now,” he growls, his hand fisting tight in my hair. “And I’m not stopping until every inch of you knows it.”
He uses his grip to yank my head back as he starts to thrust, hips snapping forward in hard, punishing strokes that steal the air from my lungs. Each slam of his cock lands deeper than the last, wet and relentless, the sound obscene in the room. I cry out into the sheets, overwhelmed, shaking—
—and so fucking turned on I could scream.
“You feel that?” he snarls. “Feel how you’re still stretching around me? He didn’t ruin you, omega.”
His grip tightens.
“I’m going to do that.”
His hand slides down my spine, rough and possessive, and then lower, until he’s between my cheeks and spreading me wide without ceremony. I feel the heat of him there, his breath against my skin, his attention narrowing like a blade.
“Look at you,” he growls. “Already open. Already begging.”
I gasp, jerking forward—but his hand on my hip yanks me back onto his cock.
“There’s no part of you I won’t take,” he says, voice ragged. “You understand me? You think you can take another knot and come home to me?”
He spits on me and rubs it in, his thumb pressing harder, slick and saliva mixing.
“You’re gonna feel me in both holes, omega,” he growls. “You’re not walking tomorrow.”
I choke on a moan, because he means it: every word. And I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I love it.
My body pulses with need, instincts unraveling fast under the force of his fury.
“You’re gonna know who owns this pussy. Who this ass belongs to. Who your fucking alpha is.”
I gasp as his thumb presses in, breaching me just enough to make my thighs quake. I clench around his cock, unable to help it, and a low snarl rips from his throat. Suddenly he’s fucking me harder and faster, his hips slamming against mine with brutal force as his thumb works me open.
Every part of me feels used, claimed, marked; and still he wants more.
Still not satisfied.
I gasp as his fingers leave me—not retreating fully, but replacing themselves with something thicker. He pulls out, then drags his cock through the slick mess of my slit again, coating himself deliberately, making sure everything is wet.
“There’s no part of you I won’t take,” he tells me, his voice torn and furious. “You don’t get to keep anything from me. Not after this.”
I whimper when the blunt head of his cock presses against my ass; insistent and slick-coated, and truly unforgiving. My body locks up, nerves screaming—
And then he pushes in.
It’s slow at first: enough to make my thighs quake, my moan catch sharp in my throat.
“Open,” he orders.
My body obeys before my brain can catch up, and he drives in deeper with a savage thrust, stretching me wide, forcing my body to yield inch by inch as my breath rips free in sobs. I’m clenching around nothing where I’m empty, slick pouring from me like I’m begging to be filled again.
The pressure builds, unbearable and perfect.
“That’s it,” he hisses. “Take it, Omega. Take all of me.”
He pulls back just enough to slam forward again, fucking my ass, alternating pressure and taking space until there’s nowhere left in my body that doesn’t know him. His hand clamps on my hip, his grip unrelenting as he claims every part of me.
I can’t stop shaking.
I don’t want to.
“You think you can walk away from me after this?” he snarls, voice wrecked. “You think I’ll let you?”
My answer is a broken moan.
He snarls low in his chest, losing rhythm, losing control, rut roaring to the surface in violent waves. His breath is ragged, his movements wild now, no restraint left—only instinct and possession.
Then—
He pulls out.
I sob at the loss, slick dripping down my thighs as I collapse to the mattress, body twitching with need.
But he’s not done.
He grabs my hips again and slams back into me, hard and deep and feral, like he’s lost the last thread of control—and this time, I know he has.
I scream as he bottoms out, his cock stretching me to the brink; too thick, too much, too perfect.
“Back where I fucking belong,” he growls behind me, voice shredded, teeth bared like an animal. “You’re mine. Mine.”
There’s no rhythm anymore. No finesse. Every movement comes from pure instinct and rage and rut, driving him into me over and over with brutal, punishing force.
His hips crash against my ass, the slap of wet skin and ragged breath the only sounds filling the room, and his knot—fuck, his knot—is swelling fast. I can feel it, thick and demanding, catching at my entrance every time he pulls back, my cunt already clenching in reflex, too slick, too raw, too eager to let him go.
“You smell like me now,” he snarls. “Inside and out. You fucking begged for this—look what you did to me.”
And I did.
He’s gone. Fully gone. Rut has him by the throat, and I’m the one who put him there.
Something about that makes me moan, makes slick gush between my thighs.
Because Beau Wolfe doesn’t lose control. Not on the ice, not in public, not with anyone. But here he is: ruined, and undone.
Because of me.
I drove him over the edge. I made this happen.
And I love it.
He bends over me, his broad chest slick against my back, his voice nothing but gravel and heat in my ear.
“I’m going to knot you while I fucking bite you,” he says, broken and hoarse. “You’re going to come while I claim you, and you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”
My whole body shudders, pleasure threatening to collapse me from the inside out.
“Do it, then,” I whisper, voice raw and wrecked. “Claim me.”
With a snarl torn straight from his chest, his mouth locks onto my neck, teeth sinking in hard and deep—
And at the exact same moment, his knot punches into me, massive and brutal and stretching me open until I scream.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Possession.
My orgasm rips through me like wildfire; my whole body clenching, twitching, spasming beneath him as I cry out again and again, slick pouring around his knot, my mind gone.
And he doesn’t stop.
His knot pulses thick inside me, locking us together, cock still twitching as he floods me, groaning into my skin, breath wild and hot as his claim sears into the base of my neck.
I’m marked.
I’m knotted.
I’m ruined.
And I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.
I lie there trembling, stretched and shaking and split wide open with him still buried deep, still latched onto my neck like he’ll never let go.
And all I can think is:
I asked for this.
Fuck.