Chapter 14 #2
I lost my train of thought entirely as Egon moved with that supernatural speed he possessed.
He carried me to the bed and laid me down, my hips near the edge.
He dropped to his knees before me with a grace that belied his massive frame.
His big hands gripped my thighs, spreading my legs apart with gentle insistence, and then his mouth closed over my most sensitive flesh like he was devouring me whole.
The cry that tore from my throat was unrecognizable—high and broken and desperate.
His tongue swept through my folds with devastating thoroughness, learning every secret, every sensitive spot, every place that made me tremble.
His fingers found my entrance, pressing inside with a rhythm that matched the devastating movements of his mouth, and my back arched up off the bed as he pushed me toward an orgasm harder and faster than I'd ever thought possible.
The pleasure built like a storm, pressure gathering at the base of my spine, coiling tighter and tighter until I was panting, writhing, begging without words.
He grunted against my flesh, the vibration of sound sending shockwaves through my oversensitive nerves. Then he lifted his head, his lips glistening with my arousal.
"Mine," he rumbled, his voice rough with restrained need.
Adding another finger to my core, he began moving three thick digits in and out of my body with agonizing slowness.
The stretch burned in the most delicious way, preparing me, opening me for what was to come.
He kissed his way up my body as he worked me—my trembling thighs, the soft curve of my belly, the undersides of my breasts—worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.
When he sucked my nipple into the heat of his mouth, I nearly came off the bed. The dual sensation of his fingers pumping inside me and his tongue swirling around my breast had me teetering on the edge of madness.
My hands fisted at my sides, nails digging into my palms. Screw that. I buried my fingers in his hair—those thick, silky strands I'd been dreaming about—and pulled his head down harder against me.
I wanted more pressure. Faster. Fingers deeper. Just... more.
Egon growled against my breast, the sound vibrating through my chest, and doubled his efforts. His fingers curled inside me, finding that perfect spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. His thumb pressed against my clit, circling, rubbing, driving me higher.
I came with a primitive cry I'd never heard before—not from my throat, not from any human throat. The sound was raw, animal, completely uninhibited. But I could not stop. The orgasm crashed over me in waves, going on and on, relentless, devastating.
Before I could fully recover, before I could catch my breath or clear the haze from my vision, Egon moved.
He positioned himself at my entrance, the broad head of him pressing against my still-pulsing core.
With one slow, steady thrust, he pushed forward, stretching my sensitive muscles around his hard length, filling me so completely that I saw white.
The burn of his entry was exquisite—too much and not enough, pleasure and pain intertwined so tightly I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. He moved with agonizing patience, sinking deeper with each thrust, pushing me higher even as my body struggled to accommodate his size.
When he was finally buried to the hilt, when I could feel him everywhere, throbbing inside me, claiming me completely, he stilled. His golden eyes locked onto mine, waiting for me to recover, to focus, to truly see him.
"Mine.” His fangs were out. The beast fighting to break free.
One word. That was all I got before he began to move—pumping into me with the relentless power of the beast he was, each thrust driving the air from my lungs, rocking my entire body with the force of his passion.
I loved it. Loved every hard thrust, every guttural grunt that escaped his throat, every moment of overwhelming fullness.
I loved the way his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he held me in place, anchoring me for his possession.
Loved the way my breasts bounced with each impact, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my over-sensitized skin.
My body felt impossibly tight, impossibly swollen, so sensitive that just the friction of his huge cock moving inside me had me hovering on the edge of another precipice.
I reached down between us, finding my clit with trembling fingers. One touch. Two. The orgasm roared through me like a rocket launch, blasting through my consciousness with devastating force.
He fucked me harder then, deeper, his control finally snapping under the relentless pressure of his own need. I didn't know where to put my hands, how to hold on, how to survive the storm he'd unleashed between us.
I settled for gripping his wrists. I wondered what it would feel like when my fingers wrapped around the solid metal of his mating cuffs. The idea filled me with emotions I wasn't prepared to feel—wasn't sure I could survive feeling.
Safe. I felt safe in his arms, protected by his massive body, cherished by the intensity of his focus.
Like I belonged to something other than myself, something larger and more meaningful than the lonely existence I'd known before him.
Important. He made me feel important, treasured, worth the kind of devotion that spanned galaxies.
There would be no escaping this alien, this beast. He had chosen me as his fated mate. Sealed my fate as surely as his body sealed itself inside mine.
I didn't want to escape. I embraced the truth. Released all the tension I'd been carrying, all the fear and doubt and uncertainty.
I was his forever. He would take care of Derek. He would take care of me.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it set me free.
I relaxed into his thrusts, my body going soft and yielding beneath his strength. I gave him everything—my trust, my surrender, my heart. Let him take what he wanted, what he needed. Let him claim me completely, bury his body in mine, find his own peace.
When he finally found his release, when he threw his head back with a roar that sounded like my name, I held him through every shudder, every spasm, every moment of vulnerability.
Afterward, when our breathing had slowed and our hearts had steadied, he didn't pull away. Instead, he gathered me close, wrapping his massive arms around my smaller frame, cradling me against his chest like something precious.
"Mine," he whispered again, but this time the word was tender, reverent, filled with emotion that made my eyes sting.
"Yours," I agreed, pressing a kiss to the sweat-slicked skin of his shoulder.
We were thousands of miles away from Miami, from Derek, from the stupid hotel and all the contestants. The paparazzi. Reporters. Nosy hotel staff.
Right now, he was mine. Totally, completely mine.
I wrapped my arms around his head, cradled him to me, and we slept.