Chapter 33 #3
Her hips shifted instinctively, a silent plea.
He grunted. “Hold on.”
She whimpered as Alexander knelt by her feet, half in shadow. He touched her knee first—a large, callused hand, warm from the fire. Then slowly, reverently, he spread her thighs apart.
JingYi flinched, instinct urging her to squeeze her thighs together. But Alexander didn’t hesitate or leer. He just leaned in, wedging his broad shoulders between her legs, all the while trailing his mouth along the inside of her thigh like he meant to learn her by heart.
Her hand shot out, clutching his shoulder. “Wait—”
He glanced up, but he didn’t stop. And then he kissed her there, lower now, at the heart of her. A consuming kiss that made her cry out, half-wild.
He used his mouth like a vow. Lush and deliberate kisses, tasting her with a groan that vibrated straight through her bones.
His tongue stroked over her most sensitive flesh, coaxing, circling, teasing.
Her legs trembled. Her hips lifted. Her fingers tangled in his hair, trying to both pull him closer and push him away.
No one had ever touched her like this. Not like this.
When he finally drew back, slick with her scent, pupils blown wide, he rose above her.
Gently, he pressed her thighs even wider and guided the head of him to her entrance.
She gasped, lost in the wave of Heat. He was so much larger than she’d imagined, but her body knew what to do before her mind could catch up.
Her hips shifted, tilted, seeking him, craving the unbearable fullness she knew he could give her.
The first stretch of him burned. He eased forward, inch by inch, his eyes never leaving hers—reading every flutter of her lashes, every caught breath.
She clung to his shoulders, making sounds she’d never known lived inside her.
He bent and kissed her, slow and deep, as if they had all the time the world ever made.
When he stilled deep inside her, the world went quiet. Not silence—completeness. The lonely hum she’d carried her whole life vanished. There was only his breath against her throat, the weight of him above her, the impossible fullness of being known all the way through.
He pulled his hips back, the thick head of him notching at her entrance. His eyes met hers. Her breath caught.
One hard thrust, and her world cracked.
JingYi cried out, legs trembling, arms locked around his shoulders.
He was stretching her open, burrowing deep.
Her breath stuttered, body fighting to adjust. Fluttering, pulsing around him, but she couldn’t stop clinging.
Alexander let out a low growl, his forehead falling to hers, hips grinding forward another inch, and she took him.
“Gods,” he gritted. “You—” A hitch in his breath, and he shuddered.
She gasped, her hips tilting involuntarily, body flushed and slick and needing more. More. Her nerves were lightning. Her thoughts were gone. Only instinct remained—pure, aching Omega instinct that wanted to be filled, to be claimed.
He canted his hips and slammed in again, harder.
The rhythm he set was brutal, like he couldn’t stop himself, like not being inside her would kill him.
The slap of skin, the slick sound of her body taking him again and again—it was obscene.
Primal. She could barely catch her breath, couldn’t think beyond the fire building inside her, the way his hands locked around her hips and dragged her down to meet every thrust.
Her first release with him inside her came hard and fast, a cry wrenching from her throat as her body clamped down on him.
But he never stopped. He pumped her through it, eyes locked on hers, wild and blown and dark.
Not a single word from him, but everything was there in the way he took her, owned her, buried himself so deep she felt him behind her navel.
The power behind his thrusts made the entire Nest groan, the suspended ravens swaying and rattling. JingYi cried out when he nudged a spot high inside her, fingers scrambling for purchase against the sheets, against his arms, anything to ground her.
He growled against her throat, hips snapping forward again and again, the slick slap of flesh echoing in the dim-lit room. She whimpered his name without meaning to, and it only seemed to spur him further—his rhythm faltering, growing rougher, hungrier, until he was panting through gritted teeth.
Her nails dragged down his back. “Please,” she gasped. She didn’t even know what she was asking for.
But he gave it anyway—leaning down, caging her in, fists by her head as his mouth found hers with a desperation that felt like drowning. She shattered with him pinning her down, his chest pressed against hers as he plunged so deep it felt like he was claiming her soul.
And still, he didn’t stop.
He pulled out. The loss was immediate, an aching emptiness that made her gasp. Her hips chased him instinctively, a sound leaving her throat she didn’t recognize. Need surged, sharper than before, her body frantic for what it had just been given and lost.
He turned her onto her belly, pressing her into the furs. Exposed, face down, empty—she felt a flutter of panic. Then his hand smoothed down her spine, a promise in the dark. His lips firm on her nape, tongue tasting the salt of her sweat. And the fear dissolved into a different kind of surrender.
When he gripped her hips and entered her again, the relief was a sob she couldn’t contain. Each roll of his body felt deeper, hotter, rougher. And when he slipped his hand beneath her belly to caress the swollen kernel at the apex of her thighs, her moan broke out of her in shuddering gasps.
He didn’t speak. Not beyond the low growl in his throat, or the breath that stuttered harshly from his lips.
But his hands . . . his hands worshipped her.
One tracing the shape of her spine, the other splaying over her belly, then sliding up to cup her breast, thumb circling, reverent and possessive all at once.
One deep thrust collided with the gate of her womb, and she came.
Her head snapped up with a cry. He caught her there, curling his body over hers, mouth dragging over her neck, shoulder, jaw.
His teeth pulled at her earlobe and she gasped again.
She hadn’t known pleasure could feel like this.
Terrifying. Exquisite. As if something had unspooled inside her, wide and helpless and undone.
He pulled out again, and the emptiness hit her just as sharp as the first time.
Then he flipped her onto her back.
She looked up. His pupils had swallowed the blue, his chest heaving, arms trembling beside her head. Her body answered before her mind could catch up—another pulse of heat, another desperate clench around nothing.
Then he was inside her again—fast, deep, a raw thrust that stole her breath.
His forehead dropped to her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I can’t—I should be slower—”
She pulled his mouth to hers.