Epilogue #2

I pressed one massive hand against her stomach—felt the frantic flutter of her breath, the shiver of her muscles, the heat of her skin through her thin shirt—and held her in place. Controlled her completely. Controlled myself.

With my other hand, I tore at her clothing.

Fabric ripped like tissue under my sharp claws. Buttons scattered across the floor, pinging against the walls. I worked quickly, efficiently, stripping her bare with a desperation that bordered on madness until she was on display before me—naked, vulnerable, perfect.

She gasped at the sudden exposure, arching into my touch, her skin hot and soft and glowing with arousal. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, drawing my eye, my hands, my mouth.

"Beautiful," I growled, the word rumbling from my beast’s chest like thunder. "Mine."

I freed myself from my own clothing with hands that shook—trembling not with weakness but with the effort of restraint. My cock sprang free, heavy and hard and throbbing with a need that bordered on pain. The cool air of the apartment kissed my overheated skin, but I barely noticed.

All my attention was on her.

The beast’s need burned in my blood, nearly as strong as the fire of mating fever.

She was wet—I could smell her arousal, sharp and sweet and intoxicating, driving me toward the edge of control—but I needed more. Needed to feel it, taste it, confirm with my own senses that she wanted this as desperately as I did.

"Mate?" I demanded. I sheathed my claws so my fingers could press into her wet pussy, testing, teasing, gathering the evidence of her desire.

"Yes," she gasped, her head falling back against the wall, her hips rolling into my touch. "Yes, Egon, please—"

Fuck.

My beast did not want to wait. I positioned her center over my hard cock. I thrust.

She sobbed. Her hands in my hair. Pulling me closer. Demanding more.

The heat of her surrounded me, gripped me, welcomed me home.

I bottomed out inside her with a groan that seemed to come from the very foundation of my being, every inch of my throbbing length buried in her welcoming heat.

She surrounded me completely—tight, hot, perfect.

Made for me. Created by whatever forces governed the universe to be my mate, my match, my other half.

"Perfect," I growled, the word vibrating with the force of my satisfaction.

My hips stilling despite every instinct screaming at me to move, to take, to claim. I gave her a moment to adjust, to breathe, to accept the invasion of my body into hers.

"Egon," she panted, her nails scoring my shoulders hard enough to draw blood. The pain was exquisite, grounding, real. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I moved.

Hard. Fast. Primal.

The wall shook with the force of my thrusts. Pictures fell from their hooks. The water stain on the ceiling seemed to pulse with the rhythm of our joining.

"Mine," I growled with every stroke. "Mine. Mine. Mine."

"Yours," she sobbed, her head falling back against the wall. "Always yours. Forever yours."

The beast purred in satisfaction.

I adjusted my angle, finding that spot inside her, the one that made her gasp and moan and claw at my back. I pressed against it, again and again, relentless, demanding.

"Come.” The beast commanded his female. Needing to watch her fall apart in his arms. Surrender completely. Give him everything. "Now."

She shattered.

Her orgasm crashed through her with enough force to arch her back off the wall, her inner muscles clamping down on me in rhythmic pulses that tore a roar from my throat.

I did not stop.

The beast was not satisfied.

I braced my hands on her inner thighs. Spread her legs wide. Plunged back into her heat.

"Again," I demanded. "Give me again."

"Egon—" she gasped, her eyes glazed, her body trembling. "I can't—"

"Can." I arched my back body, rubbed her engorged clit, stroked her in time with my thrusts. "Come. Now."

A second orgasm ripped through her, more intense than the first, her cries echoing off the walls of her small apartment. She came apart beneath me, around me, her body surrendering completely to the pleasure I demanded she take.

And still, the beast was not satisfied.

I pulled out, flipped her around with hands that trembled with restraint. Positioned her in front of me, her cheek pressed against the wall, her body open and vulnerable and mine. I was going to fuck her again. Take her. Mark her. Get so deep inside she would never get me out.

"Last," I warned. "Deep."

"Yes," she moaned, pushing her round, perfect ass back against me. "I need—"

I drove into her hot pussy in one hard thrust.

She screamed my name—a sound of pleasure and pain and perfect surrender.

This angle was different. Deeper. More complete. I bottomed out inside her, my hips flush against her ass, every inch of me buried in her heat.

"Perfect," I growled. "Fit. Made for me."

"Made for you," she sobbed. "Only you. Always you."

I began to move—slow, powerful strokes that shook the entire couch, that made the floorboards creak, that threatened to break the flimsy piece of furniture beneath us.

"Love you," I rasped, the words torn from the deepest part of me, from the beast and the man together. "Love you. Mate. Forever."

"I love you too," she cried, tears streaming down her face. "I love you, Egon. I love you so much—"

I felt her third orgasm building, her body tightening around me, her breath hitch and her muscles coil.

"Give me," I commanded. "Everything."

She did.

She came with a scream that shattered the silence of the apartment, her body convulsing, her inner muscles milking me, demanding my own release.

I roared, my climax tearing through me like a storm, my seed flooding her, marking her, claiming her in the most ancient way possible.

The beast settled. Satisfied. Complete. Mating cuffs on her wrists. Taken by the beast. By me. She was ours. Forever.

Thank you for reading The Beast’s Bride. If you loved it, please consider leaving a five star review! Now get ready for Grace Goodwin’s brand new series COMING SOON!

Alien commander.

Storm planet.

Accidental mate bond.

When scientist Elara Vance crashes on the most dangerous planet in the sector, she has only 72 hours to survive.

Then she meets the alien warrior who says the planet has already chosen her.

Kaelor is the commander of Soltharra’s Storm Guard, and the lightning running through his body just recognized its mate.

The bond is electric.

The storms are deadly.

And staying away from each other may be impossible.

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