Chapter 22 #2
That is not a word he has taught me. Not one I have heard before. The sound of it in the dark, spoken with that low rough certainty, undoes something deep inside me.
And then he moves.
A slow deliberate shift, a turn, a rise up on one arm beside me.
The furs fall away from my shoulders, and the cooler night air touches my skin, making me more aware of the heat clinging from the brazier and the heat rising now from him.
I can feel him looking down at me even if I cannot see the details of his face.
His other hand comes up to trace the line of my throat with the very tips of his claws. A slow deliberate mapping that is somehow more possessive than a grip would be. My pulse jumps beneath his touch. He feels it. His thumb brushes there, over the frantic beat.
“The sound you make in your sleep,” he says, the words a low vibration against my cheek as he leans closer. “It calls to the blood.”
I do not know how to answer that. I do not even know what it means, not really. But the way he says it makes me feel hunted and cherished all at once.
His head lowers. I feel the warm gust of his breath just before he tastes the line of my jaw.
My body arches before I can stop it.
A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound of pure primal satisfaction. He likes my reaction. He likes the way I respond without thought, my body knowing a truth my mind is still catching up to.
He moves again, covering me more fully, caging me in with his size.
The reality of him settles over me. The sheer, solid mass.
The strength in the arms bracketing my head.
The raw heat pouring off him. He is so much larger than me.
His shoulders block out what little light there is.
His thighs press against mine, heavy and immovable.
His mouth finds the sensitive skin below my ear. He nips. Just a gentle scrape of teeth, a warning of the fangs I know are there. A shiver racks my entire body.
“Kaiven,” I whisper, and it’s not a protest. It’s a surrender.
“Narai,” he corrects against my skin. My mate. His hands move. One slides down my side, past my hip, to grip my thigh, pulling it up and over his hip. The new position opens me to him, leaving me bare, vulnerable.
He holds me there for a moment, letting me feel the position. The control he has.
Then he begins to move. A slow, torturous rocking of his hips against me. The barrier of our thin sleep clothes is an agony. A friction that builds a deep, heavy ache inside me.
I move with him, my body seeking more, instinct overriding the last of my caution.
His breathing is ragged now. The control he wears like armor in the daylight is cracking. I feel it in the desperate grip of his hand on my thigh. In the way he kisses my neck, like he is trying to consume me without breaking the skin.
“Keandra.” My name is a raw sound, torn from him. “I can smell how much you want this.”
A flush of mortification heats my face. But underneath it is a wave of dark, exhilarating pride. He wants me. This powerful, dangerous male wants me.
His other hand slides between our bodies. His fingers find the wet heat soaking through my clothes.
He groans. A deep, broken sound that is all victory. All male.
“You’re ready for me,” he grits out. “Your body knows its Kai.”
And then he shifts. In one smooth, powerful motion, he moves down my body. The furs part around us. He settles between my legs, and the sight of him there, huge and dark in the firelight, is so overwhelming I have to close my eyes.
“Vah,” he commands. Stay.
His hands grip my hips, holding me in place. The tips of his claws press into my skin, a possessive sting. He is going to do what he wants. Take what he wants. He pushes my nightdress up, exposing my pussy to him.
And my body is singing with a terrifying, glorious anticipation.
He lowers his head. I feel the exhalation of his breath against my most sensitive flesh, and my entire body bows tight as a drawn bowstring.
The first touch of his tongue is a shock.
A lightning strike.
It’s slow. Deliberate. A flat, hot stroke that goes from my entrance all the way to the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. He is tasting me.
A cry escapes my lips. My hands fly to his hair, my fingers tangling in the thick, dark strands. I expect him to stop, to pull back.
He doesn’t.
He does it again. And again.
Each lap of his tongue is a brand. A claim. He explores me with a focused, intense concentration that is terrifying. There is no hesitation. No tentativeness. There is only a single, driving purpose: to learn every inch of me. To own this part of me.
My hips try to lift, to chase the pleasure, but his grip tightens, holding me down. I am completely at his mercy. A captive to the slow, devastating rhythm he is setting.
He finds a spot that makes me gasp, a sensitive place just inside me. He focuses there, circling it with the tip of his tongue until my thighs begin to tremble. The pressure builds, a tight coil winding deep in my belly, hotter and hotter.
“Kaiven,” I gasp, his name a desperate plea. “Please.”
He growls against me, the vibration traveling through me, amplifying the sensation a thousand times. He takes my clit into his mouth and sucks.
Hard.
The world shatters.
The coil snaps. My vision goes white. A choked sob tears from my throat as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashes over me, so intense it borders on pain.
My body convulses, my back arching off the furs, but he holds on, riding the storm with me, prolonging it, drawing out every last shudder until I am a boneless, trembling mess.
When I finally come back to myself, he is there. Lapping at me gently now, cleaning me with soft, possessive strokes. The firelight catches the sheen of wetness on his face, and the sight is so raw, so intimate, it makes my heart ache.
He rises over me, his big body blocking out the world. His face is in shadow, but I can see the glow of his eyes. Predatory. Satisfied.
I am utterly exposed. Soft. Vulnerable. And so, so full of an emotion I can’t name.
He shifts, and I feel the heavy, impossible length of him press against my thigh. He is huge. The sheer size of him sends a fresh wave of fear and anticipation through me.
He shifts again, aligning our bodies. The head of his cock notches at my entrance. I am wet from my orgasm, but I know it won’t be enough.
“Vel,” he grits out, the word a raw, possessive snarl. Mine.
He pushes forward.
It’s a slow, relentless pressure. A stretch that burns. My body resists, a panicked clench of muscle. He is too big.
“Shhh, narai,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Open for me. Your body was made for me.”
He doesn’t stop. The pressure increases, a steady, inexorable force. I feel myself giving way, inch by painful, pleasure-filled inch. He has to force it. Has to work himself into me. The sheer dominance of it, the possessive control, is overwhelming.
A cry is torn from my lips as the widest part of him breaches me. A sharp, stinging pain that melts into a deep, full ache.
He stills, letting me adjust. Letting my body stretch to accommodate him. The feeling of being so completely, utterly filled is intoxicating. Terrifying.
“You are tight,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. “So tight for your Kai.”
He leans down, and I feel the scrape of his fangs against the sensitive skin of my throat.
“You will take all of me,” he whispers. “And you will beg for more.”
Then he begins to move.
A slow, deep retreat, followed by another forceful thrust. Each one drives him deeper, claiming more of me, until he is seated to the hilt, fully sheathed inside me.
The sensation is staggering. A fullness so complete it steals my breath. He is everywhere. Inside me. Over me. Around me. His scent fills my lungs. His heat sears my skin. His strength pins me down.
He starts a rhythm then. A slow, powerful rocking of his hips that grinds him deep within me.
The furs are a soft bed beneath us, but the world outside the tent has faded to nothing. There is only this. Only him. Only the firelight and the raw, elemental connection between us.
He is watching me.
I can feel the weight of his gaze in the dark, a focused, predatory intensity that makes my skin tingle. He is studying every reaction, every flicker of pleasure and pain that crosses my face.
My hands clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. He is so big, so solid.
His rhythm changes. Becomes faster. Harder. The friction is delicious. A building storm of sensation that threatens to consume me.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a low growl.
I force my eyes open, trying to focus on his face in the dim light. I can’t see the details, but I can feel the power coiled in him. The barely leashed restraint.
“That’s it,” he says, his hips snapping forward, driving into me with a force that steals my breath. “Watch me take you.”
His words are a dark, potent magic. They unlock something deep inside me, a primal submission that I never knew I possessed.
I am no longer Keandra from Mars.
I am Narai. His mate.
And I am being claimed.
He shifts his angle, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes me cry out. A place so sensitive it borders on pain.
He finds it again. And again.
He is relentless. A precision strike of male power designed for one purpose: my pleasure. He is playing my body like an instrument, and I am completely at his mercy.
The coil winds tighter. Hotter. The pressure builds until I am sobbing with need.
“Kaiven,” I gasp, my body arching against him. “Please… I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” he growls, his pace punishing now. “You will. For me.”
He reaches down between our bodies, his thumb finding the slick, sensitive nub of my clit. He circles it once, twice.
A star explodes behind my eyes.
The second orgasm is more violent than the first. A seismic convulsion that rips through me, leaving me breathless and shaking.
He follows me over the edge with a guttural roar, a sound of pure, triumphant possession. He thrust deep, one final, powerful stroke, and I feel the hot, liquid flood of his release filling me.
A wave of possessive satisfaction washes over me. I have given him this. I have pleased my Kai.
He collapses on top of me, his heavy weight a welcome anchor in the storm of sensation. His face is buried in my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
For a long moment, we lie like that, tangled together in the aftermath. The only sounds are our harsh breathing and the crackle of the fire.
Then he shifts, rolling us until I am sprawled across his chest, my head tucked under his chin. His arms wrap around me, holding me close.
I can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart under my ear. A slow, powerful rhythm that lulls me into a state of boneless contentment.
I have never been held like this. Not just physically, but emotionally. As if I were something precious. Something to be protected.
His hands stroke my back, a slow, soothing motion. His claws are retracted, but I can feel the slight pressure of their tips against my skin. A constant, possessive reminder of what he is.
What I am to him.
“Narai,” he murmurs, the word a low rumble in his chest.
I don’t answer. Don’t have to. I just bury deeper into his warmth, inhaling the scent of him. Smoke, rain, and a scent that is uniquely mine now.
This is mine.
This is us.
And as sleep claims me, I know, with a certainty that terrifies and exhilarates me, that there is no going back.