Chapter 16 #2
Standing, ringed by his men, Kane threw back his head and roared. The primal sound reverberated through the ring and through the compound.
Every alpha in the compound answered him.
The triumphant agreement ringing in her ears, Kane jostled her. Her dress shredded—skirt torn. He bared her, moving his hand below her bottom, and with a flick and a pull, he opened the belt and released his skirt.
His cock was right there. He moved her, trapping the piece of flesh between their bodies, pressing the swollen slit of her vulva just at the top, clit to cockhead, so that the golden honey of her breeder's slick would spill down over him.
Sasha had to stretch her neck to keep her hold on her bite, sucking the thick iron of his blood while maintaining the perfect rubbing position of his fat mushroom tip lined up with the engorged bundle of nerves her clit had become.
Kane wrapped her tight in his arms, bone crushingly so, keeping the position as he moved, walking with purpose away from his warriors.
He took her to their rooms and found the nest on her bed.
It was massive, comprised of most of his dirty laundry.
Sasha had found his clothing before it could be washed and brought it here, along with blankets he had ejaculated on in his sleep and pillowcases he had drooled on.
If it smelled like Kane, she took possession of it and let no one touch it.
He was alternately purring and growling for her, pleased at the sight. She was too gone now to be embarrassed, too hungry and determined.
His rut had triggered her second estrous. Her claiming heat.
While clamped on his neck, she made sweet, needy little noises. Tension built in her abdomen, want a cramping, painful thing.
He tried to set her down. There was an instinctive protocol to a nest—the breeder invited the alpha in—but Sasha wouldn't release him. He was her nest; didn't he know that by now? He was shelter and safety, and she was not going to let him go.
"Come, Beauty, come. Show me what you have built for us. Show me where I will give you my seed," he coaxed with a rumble that stoked her desires.
Sasha loosened her hand from his hair, gave a demanding point to the bed, then tightened her hold and her teeth in him. She was worrying the flesh so much, there'd be a piece of it missing later.
Kane rumbled, all his aggression gone. She bathed him in her want, and in turn he covered her in a dribbling fount of pre-cum.
On his knees, he maneuvered them into her bed, him on his back, her on his chest. He inched and scooted, throaty groans escaping as the tormented flesh on his cock rubbed at the silky folds of her womanhood.
"Waited for you," he rumbled into her hair. "Mad for you, my Beauty. Fuckin’ insane for you."
Sasha unclenched her jaw. "Mine," she said with a growl.
"Yours, Beauty. Since the moment you ate from my hand. Yours."
Sasha cried. Tears of relief, of pleasure. She set her blood-touched lips against his, not knowing what to do next.
Kane showed her.
He kept one hand on her backside, cupping both cheeks with his large paw and pressing down while his own hips pressed up, working her pleasure.
His other hand twisted her braid, two rolls of it into his fist until he pressed it at the back of her neck while his mouth opened over her—lips brushing, licking, tasting.
There was no technique to the wet joining of mouths. It was a battle to get as close as possible, taste and inhale as much as one could.
Sasha's tongue roamed over his incisors and brushed against his tongue while he growled and chased hers. Then he was kissing the corner of her lips and her chin, nipping and biting and owning.
Pleasure built between her thighs and in her belly while he rolled his hips, higher and higher, the intimate caresses making her wild. There was a sudden burst of sensation, and Sasha cried out with her first full orgasm.
He twisted their bodies so that now she was below and everything in her world was this giant beast of a man. "That's it, Beauty. That's my Beauty," he murmured into her mouth as she tried to catch her breath.
He bestowed more licks to her lips, her chin, and her neck. He released her braid and came around the front, holding the fragile column of her neck and meeting her eyes.
"My breeder girl. I am your choice, am I, sweetheart?" His growl was dangerous and threatening. His grip tightened just a bit. "Done waiting. You've marked me."
"Mine," she said, neck stretched above the clamp of his hand. Her hands wandered, touched, reached. Sasha wanted.
His chuckle was dark.
She was at his mercy, but still she would own him. A whimper came from her throat. She tried to get back to his mouth, but he mastered her with his hand on her neck, her lower body trapped under his.
"Taking you," he said. “Takin' everything now."
He captured her roaming hands, forced them above her head in one of his, and then lowered himself to feast on her.
His mouth came to where his big hand had just been, sucking, biting.
It hurt and felt good, each touch a bruise and mark, little nips that scraped her skin and scented the air with her blood.
Sasha's breeder need deepened. It all felt incredible. He took his time—tasting her skin, inhaling her along her shoulders, collar bone, the tops of her breasts—and the valley between.
When he took his hand away from hers, it was so he could knead and pinch at the breasts filling his big hands. When her arms slipped from where he’d left them, he barked out a command that made her jerk and orgasm.
"Stay or I'll tie you," he warned her before returning his attention to her chest, sucking her nipples without mercy. She suffered in aroused agony under his erotic assault.
Her legs were under his, and he pushed them together to create a sweet valley for his cock, rubbing, leaking, touching where it did no good.
They created pools of slippery, viscous moisture between them.
Sasha wanted the beast inside her. She had to have him inside her.
She was filled with scars and emptiness only he could heal and fill.
A monster at his meal, he would not be moved. He sucked and nuzzled and bit at her breasts, burying his face between them, tormenting her exquisitely sensitive nipples. He rubbed them against the scruff of his beard, the blade of his nose, and even his ears.
"Feed me, Beauty," Kane commanded. He pinched and pulled at one nipple, then cupped and plumped the breast while suckling hard. Then he switched sides back and forth, over and over.
The touch of the cool air abraded them, and Sasha was begging when his mouth began to move down her torso, which received the same patient, dedicated treatment. She felt the pull of this sucking down her spine to her womb, where each twist of decadent pleasure built upon the last.
Sasha began to scream and demand. He was doing it wrong. She needed him inside. She hurt and burned.
His mouth worked her to mindlessness all the way down to the cradle of her woman's curls, where he buried his face and breathed deep.
"Please, Kane. Please."
"Not finished." Then he flipped her to her belly, moved back to her neck, and started again.
Sasha screamed, bucked, and raged.
Kane bit, tasted, and marked his territory.
On her belly, his cock worked at her bottom, almost there, so close to where she needed. While his mouth worked, he moved, shifting his hard, thick shaft so that it rubbed between her legs.
It was so long the head met her clit again, kissed it there with the sweetest touch.
She felt like she was coming every time his hips moved.
She snaked her hands below, cupping herself, cupping him, her fingers working around him through their combined lust—touching the crown, reaching back down his stem as her hips surged with his.
Kane cursed, a gravelly sound of lust. Sasha's hips moved into the bed and she guided him to where she wanted him.
With a snap of his hips, he moved the beautiful thing away. His legs trapped hers together even tighter, keeping his cock in that snug crack instead of where she wanted it.
His name became a pleading chant on Sasha’s lips as his mouth went back to its torment down her spine and over her ribs. He spent forever on every mark and scar he found, lavishing kisses and bites.
His desire poured over her like scented oil. He massaged it into her skin and bones.
Then he was moving pillows, lifting her to her knees, and his mouth followed that crease in her butt. Sasha was too lost to feel self-conscious or outraged. He licked and tasted, and she made noises that she didn't know she could make.
His teeth were gentle and dangerous as he nuzzled deep, his tongue long and seeking. He tasted inside of her, lapping and prodding. It was a minute's work of rhythmic probing, and she made more slick for him.
Once, twice, he filled her with his tongue and she wept. Orgasm after orgasm. It was almost, but not enough.
Constantine Kane had her placed and pinned. He took what he wanted, feasting on Sasha, and showed her no mercy.
She was sobbing when his mouth left her core and he covered her back. The heat of his naked chest firmly pressed into her as he tucked her fully under him. He centered his cock at her entrance, to give her the pain she had been craving.
Though her breeder body was born to accommodate alpha cock, it still hurt as he pushed forward. She felt his hand, guiding, a fist at the entrance of her vagina. She moved as she could, trying to press back, but tucked as she was under him, there was little she could do.
His breath was on her cheek as he bit at her jaw and nipped at her ear. "What do you want, Beauty?" His voice was so deep she felt it in her center. "What can I offer a pretty little breeder like you?"
"You know," she cried. "I need you."
"My dick?" He pressed forward, stretching and burning. He was so big, filling her up.
"You!" she screamed into the linens.
He tunneled into her, pounding hard and rough at her cervix. It hurt so much.
But Kane's cock was a battering ram pounding at the gateway to her womb, leaking his pre-cum like a serum.
His essence worked to loosen her, open her, make her his.
In drones and other breeds, a virgin's cervix would never do this; the cervix wasn’t meant to open.
Even to touch her cervix would be agony.
His jerking first strokes into her were far from gentle. All the pleasure was his, even as Sasha begged for more. It hurt, but it was the only good hurt she had yet to endure, and she needed it all.
"Then take me, breeder. Open to me." His thickly muscled arms reached around her chest, crossing over to her shoulders so that he could pull her back onto him and push into her with more force.
"Open to me, Sasha," he commanded.
She did, suddenly and with a scream scraping out her throat and wounding her vocal cords. Her cervix bloomed under alpha sexual aggression and opened for him, letting Kane seat himself fully.
He roared in victory, a sound that shuddered through Sasha and made her inner muscles clench relentlessly in another pulsing climax. The sound bled though the walls of their nest and was answered by the other alphas in the compound.
Bent over her, pumping hard into Sasha, Kane's movements became erratic. "Take me. Take me, take all of me," he snarled as he reached his own peak, thick white ropes of seed spurting into her vulnerable, open womb.
Before she could ask for it, she felt him grow bigger, felt the stress on her delicate inner tissues from the base of him thickening into the knot that would keep him deeply seated within her.
Trembling, she took it—the knot, the pain—the essence of him, filling her up, filling all her empty spaces. Sasha was shaking all over, teeth chattering, not because she was cold, but because she was in a kind of sexual shock, senses on overload.
Kane held her tight, just to the edge of breathless. His breath ghosted along her ear as he nuzzled, kissed, and purred gently. But she sensed the relish of violence in him, a joyous ascent to the final act of conquest.
He opened his mouth wide and took her whole shoulder in. Then he bit down. Hard. Deep. Bloody.
Sasha had no energy to scream.
She took his monstrous, predator’s bite.
She took him.
Constantine Kane had chosen his mate.