Chapter 28 Threxian #3
Her body arches beneath me, her tits pressed against my chest, her nipples hard and begging for attention.
I lower my head, biting down on her shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough to mark her.
To remind her who’s claiming her. She moans, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
The bond is alive with sensation—her pleasure, her desperation, her absolute surrender to me, and my own possessive greed for every inch of her.
“Look at me,” I growl, my voice rough with need.
Her eyes fly open, and they’re dark, bottomless pools of fire.
In them, I see the abyssal glow flickering in the depths, answering the heat on my own.
The sigils on our chests blaze brighter, casting a pulsing light across our sweat-slicked skin.
She’s flawless like this, wild and untamed, her hair fanned out around her, her lips parted as she gasps for air.
“You’re mine,” I snarl, the words torn from somewhere deep and primal inside me. “Say it.”
“Yours,” she gasps, her voice breaking as I thrust into her again, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her scream. “Only yours.” Her words send a rush of satisfaction through me, fierce and unrelenting.
“Feel how you take me,” I mutter, my voice dark and filthy. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Like you were made for me.”
“I was,” she pants, her nails still digging into my back. “All of me, yours to ruin, yours to fuck.”
Her words set me on fire. I pound into her harder, faster, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the room. She’s so close. I can feel it through the bond. I slide a hand between us, finding her clit, and rub rough circles against it.
“Come for me, princess,” I rasp. “Let me feel you fucking come.”
She screams, her body trembling violently as her climax hits. Her pussy clenches around me like a vise, and that is all it takes for me.
With a final, deep thrust, I bury myself as far as I can go and let go.
My own release roars through me, hot and endless, and I pour myself into her with a groan that’s more demonic rumble than human sound.
For long moments, there is nothing but the two of us, fused together, shaking through the aftershocks as the bond sings with a profound, satiated hum.
Slowly, the world filters back in. The rough blanket beneath her. The cool night air on my back. The frantic hammering of our hearts gradually slowing to a synchronized rhythm.
I collapse beside her, pulling her with me so she’s sprawled half on top of my chest. We’re a mess of sweat and spent and tangled limbs. She nuzzles into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin. My hand strokes slowly down the smooth, damp skin of her back.
I feel the exact second her breathing evens out, her body going soft and heavy against mine. Content. Sated.
My lips curve against the crown of her head.
“I’m not done with you,” I rumble, my voice still rough from use.
She lifts her head, her eyes drowsy and amused. “You’re not?”
“No.” I shift beneath her, rolling her onto her back again and rising up on one elbow to look down at her.
She’s a fucking vision—flushed skin, lips swollen from my kisses, my bite marks darkening on her shoulder.
The glow of her sigil paints her breasts in soft, pulsing light.
“That was just the beginning, princess.”
Her brow arches. “The beginning? I feel like I’ve been thoroughly claimed.”
“You have.” I lean down, nipping at her lower lip.
“But claiming isn’t a one-time event. It’s a constant reminder.
” My hand slides down her stomach, through the slick mess we made between her thighs.
She gasps, her hips twitching. “And you’re still dripping with me.
I can smell it on you. I can feel it on my skin. ”
Her breath hitches as my fingers circle her sensitive clit. “Threx…”
“We’re covered in sweat and come,” I say, my voice dropping to a dark, possessive growl. “I want you clean. I want to wash my scent off you just so I can put it back on again.”
A shiver runs through her. The bond sparks with fresh, eager heat. “How…”
I sit up, pulling her with me. “Come here.”
I stand, lifting her easily into my arms. She lets out a small, surprised sound, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. I carry her a few steps to the small washroom attached to the inn room. It’s little more than a closet with a stone drain and a copper pipe overhead with a pull-chain.
I set her on her feet, but keep one arm banded around her waist, holding her against me. With my free hand, I yank the chain.
Cold water sprays down, shocking a yelp from her. But within seconds, it runs warm, then hot, thanks to some simple enchantment in the pipes. Steam begins to fill the small space, curling around our naked bodies.
The water cascades over her shoulders, plastering her hair to her skin, running in rivulets down the valley between her breasts. She tips her head back, letting it sluice over her face. I watch, my cock already hard again and pressing insistently against her stomach.
Her eyes open, finding mine through the steam. She sees my hunger, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips. Without a word, she turns in my arms, presenting her back to me. She braces her hands against the wet stone wall, and looks at me over her shoulder.
An invitation. A challenge.
My hands settle on her hips, my thumbs digging into the soft flesh. “Eager.”
“You said you weren’t done,” she says, her voice breathy as the hot water runs down the curve of her spine. “So don’t just stand there admiring the view.”
A low laugh escapes me. I guide myself to her entrance, which is still wet and swollen from our first round. I don’t tease. I push forward in one smooth, relentless stroke, filling her completely.
She cries out, her head dropping forward, her back arching beautifully. The water slicks our skin, making every movement fluid, every sensation amplified. Her inner walls clutch at me, still sensitive, still fluttering with the echoes of her last climax.
I pull back and thrust in again, setting a deep, deliberate pace. The sound is obscene, the wet slap of our bodies, the splash of water, her choked moans echoing off the stone. My grip on her hips tightens, sure to leave bruises, marks of possession that will linger for days.
“This is what you wanted,” I grind out, my voice harsh in her ear as I lean over her. “To be fucked until you can’t remember your own name. Until all you know is my cock in your cunt.”
“Yes,” she sobs, pushing back against me, meeting every thrust. “Gods, yes.”
I slide one hand around her hip, down through the wet curls, finding her clit. She’s already swollen, throbbing. I rub tight, rough circles, and her knees buckle. I hold her up, my other arm locking around her waist, fucking her harder as her pleasure crests.
She screams, her body seizing around me, her climax ripping through her with a violence that shakes us both.
The bond ignites, a conduit of pure, white-hot ecstasy.
It short-circuits my control. With a snarl, I bury myself to the hilt and come, pumping my release deep inside her, my own roar mingling with the rush of the water.
We stay like that for a minute, braced against the wall, panting, the hot water beating down on our heaving backs.
Slowly, I soften inside her. I press a kiss to her wet shoulder. “Turn around.”
She’s pliant, boneless. She turns, leaning back against the wall, her eyes heavy-lidded. I reach for a rough cake of soap and a cloth.
“My turn to clean you,” I say, my voice quieter now, but no less intense.
I start with her face, washing away the sweat and tears.
Then her neck, her shoulders, paying careful attention to the bite marks.
She watches me, her gaze soft. I move lower, soaping her breasts, kneading the full weight of them, teasing her nipples until they’re tight peaks again. She whimpers, her head falling back.
I sink to my knees on the hard stone. The water runs over my head and shoulders as I wash her stomach, her thighs. I’m thorough, possessive, cleaning every inch of her. When I reach between her legs, she gasps, her hands coming down to tangle in my wet hair.
I look up at her, my demon’s eyes burning through the steam. “I’m just washing you, princess.”
But my fingers are gentle, probing, cleaning away the evidence of our joining even as I stroke her tender flesh, making her shudder. It’s an intimacy more profound than the fucking. This careful, deliberate claiming of every part of her.
When I’m done, I rise. She takes the soap from my hands. “My turn.”
Her touch is just as thorough, just as reverent.
She washes the sweat from my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of my sigil, which glows warmly under her attention.
She soaps my arms, my back, her hands gentle and sure.
When she sinks to her knees before me, her hair streaming with water, my breath catches.
She looks up, her eyes holding mine as she takes my hardening length in her soapy hand. She washes me slowly, stroking from root to tip, her thumb swirling over the head. It’s not a prelude to a blowjob, it’s a ritual. A claiming of her own.
“You’re mine, too,” she says softly, her voice barely audible over the water.
The words slam into my chest with more force than any physical blow. “I am,” I agree, my voice thick.
She finishes, rinsing us both clean. I pull the chain to stop the water. The sudden silence is loud, broken only by our breathing and the drip of water from our bodies.
I reach for a towel, wrapping her in it first, rubbing her skin until it glows pink. I do the same for myself, roughly.
The room is thick with steam, the air warm and damp. I lead her back to the bed. The blankets are still tangled, the scent of sex still lingering. I don’t care. I pull her down with me, wrapping myself around her, her back to my front.
She fits perfectly against me. Her damp hair smells of cheap soap and her own unique scent. I nuzzle the back of her neck.
“Threx?” she whispers into the darkness.
“Hmm?”
“That reminder…?”
I smile against her skin, my hand splaying possessively over her stomach. “It’s ongoing, princess. Get some sleep. You’ll need your strength.”