Chapter 23 #2
Fear lances through her, sharp and cold. A primal fear of a predator too large, too strong, too lost to instinct. She tries to shift, to bring her knees up, to create some small space, but it is useless.
My legs pin hers.
My weight settles, an anchor she cannot move.
“Vah.”
The word is a command. A snarl.
Stay.
My hand moves from the tattered remains of her clothes to her hip, the grip bruising. I hold her down, a clear demonstration of control, of power.
My eyes, the pupils blown wide with lust and something darker, scan her body.
I am not looking at her.
I am looking at her pussy.
At the place I will breed.
“Now I take what is mine,” I rasp, my other hand fisting in her hair, forcing her head back, exposing the long line of her throat.
I shift my hips, and she feels me.
Hard. Hot. Impossibly large.
The blunt head of me prods at her entrance, a blunt, intimidating pressure.
There is no preparation. No gentleness.
Only the certainty of what is to come.
I am too big. This will hurt.
I feel her tension, the way her body tenses like a bowstring, and instead of pausing, it seems to spur me on.
I lean down, my fangs scraping against the sensitive skin of her neck.
A shiver, pure and electric, runs through her. Not of pleasure. Not exactly. Of… intensity.
“I am going to fuck you, Narai,” I breathe the words against her skin, a dark, possessive promise. “I am going to fill this soft human cunt with my seed until it takes. Until your belly swells with my child.”
My hips move.
“Feel me,” I command.
“You will take all of me.”
Then I thrust.
A rough, almost violent entry that splits her open.
A cry tears from her throat. A raw, wounded sound.
Her body tries to arch away, to escape the invasion, but I hold her down effortlessly. My grip on her hair tightens, my hips pinning her to the furs.
There is no escape.
I do not stop.
I drive deeper, a steady, inexorable pressure that forces her body to yield, to accommodate me, to stretch. “I can smell you,” I growl. “You're fertile.”
When I am finally seated to the hilt, I still. A deep, guttural groan rumbles in my chest, a sound of pure, primal satisfaction.
“Vel,” I whisper, the word a vibration against her skin. Mine.
My hips begin to move.
There is no rhythm. No finesse.
Only a brutal, driving pace.
A primal rutting.
Each thrust is hard, deep, a powerful pistoning that rocks her entire body. The furs scrape against her back with every movement. The air is filled with the slap of skin against skin, with the harsh sound of my breathing, with the grunts of exertion that escape me.
I fuck her like I am trying to brand myself on her very soul.
“You will not leave this tent,” I snarl, my words punctuated by the powerful rhythm of my body. “You will stay here. Under me. Full of me. Until I am sure. Until I feel it take.”
My free hand moves from her hip, sliding between our bodies, my thumb finding the sensitive nub of her clit.
I rub it. Hard. Fast.
A relentless, demanding pressure that wars with the pain of my thrusts, sending conflicting signals through her overwhelmed body.
Heat builds.
An unwelcome, treacherous heat that has nothing to do with the brazier.
I can feel her getting wetter, her body betraying her, softening around the hard invasion of me, making the rough passage easier.
I feel it too.
A growl of approval rips from my throat. “That’s it, Narai. Open for me. Take my cock.”
My thrusts become faster. More erratic.
My control is fraying.
My focus narrows to a single, blinding point.
The need to spill inside her.
To mark her.
To breed her.
“I am going to fuck a baby into you,” I pant, the words broken by the force of my movements. “All night long. I will not stop. Your pussy will be sore. You will be begging me to stop. And I will not.”
My hand in her hair pulls, angling her head back further, forcing her to meet the wild, possessive heat in my eyes.
“Look at me,” I command.
Her vision swims with tears.
“Look at the male who owns you.”
My hips slam against hers, one last, brutal thrust.
I go rigid.
A roar tears from my throat, a sound of triumphant, savage possession.
And I feel it.
A hot, powerful surge deep inside her.
My seed. Marking her. Claiming her.
I collapse onto her, my full, heavy weight pinning her to the furs, my body a hot, sweaty blanket of muscle and bone and sheer, overwhelming presence. My heart hammers against her back, a wild, frantic beat that echoes her own.
For a long moment, there is only the sound of our ragged breathing.
The scent of sex and sweat and me.
The firelight dances on the hide walls, casting flickering shadows that make the tent feel both smaller and more vast.
She lies beneath me, her body aching, used, throbbing with a pain that is already beginning to blur into something else.
Her mind is a quiet space. The fear is gone. The fight is gone.
All that is left is the undeniable, staggering reality of what just happened.
I have claimed her. With my body. With the raw, primal force of my being.
Her arousal is a sharp scent in the air. My cock throbs inside her, and she gasps, her body strung tight.
“You will not leave these furs.” I whisper, a dark promise against her ear. “I am not done with you.”
My hips pull back, the friction making her whimper. It hurts, but now there’s a slick, wet heat that makes the drag of me feel different.
I thrust back in, slower this time. A deep, grinding possession that makes her whole body clench. I am impossibly large, but her body is learning my shape. Yielding to it.
“Sha,” I murmur, and it’s not a command this time. It’s a reverent whisper. “Feel me. Take me.”
I start to move again.
The pace is relentless, but the fury has softened into something more focused. More deliberate.
I am watching her.
My golden eyes are fixed on her face, tracing every flicker of pain, every flutter of her lashes. The predatory gleam is still there, but it’s layered with something else.
Something that looks dangerously like awe.
“Vel,” I breathe, and it’s a prayer. A curse. A truth. “My Veli.”
My hand moves from her hair, trailing down her spine, a possessive, proprietary touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. I grab her hip, my grip bruising, and use the leverage to change the angle of my thrusts.
A jolt of pure, unexpected pleasure shoots through her.
A gasp escapes her lips.
A low, satisfied growl rumbles in my chest. “There,” I rasp, and I do it again.
And again.
Her hips begin to move, a small, instinctive rocking back against me. A silent plea for more.
I reward her with a harder thrust, a deeper grind that sends sparks behind her eyelids.
“Good girl,” I praise, the words a dark, sensual caress. “Take what I give you.”
My thumb finds her clit again, and this time, the touch is not just demanding. It’s knowing. It circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, a slow, maddening pressure that builds the heat inside her, stoking it into a bonfire.
The pain is a distant memory now, a ghost beneath a wave of pure, unadulterated sensation. Her body is a live wire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. She is overwhelmed, submerged, drowning in the feel of me.
“Kaiven,” she gasps, my name a ragged, desperate sound on her lips.
I still.
My entire body goes rigid above her.
My name, spoken in that breathless, wanting voice, has broken something in me.
I pull back, my cock sliding out of her in a slow, deliberate motion that leaves her feeling achingly empty. Then I flip her over with a strength that is both terrifying and effortless.
She is on her hands and knees before she can even process the movement. I grab her hips, pulling them up, positioning her to my liking. Her back is arched, her ass in the air, her most vulnerable places exposed to me. To the firelight. To my gaze.
A fresh wave of fear, cold and sharp, cuts through the haze of pleasure.
My hand smooths over her lower back, a surprisingly gentle touch. “Vah,” I murmur. Stay.
I push back inside her.
The angle is deeper, more intense. A full-body invasion that makes her cry out, her fingers digging into the thick furs.
I set a punishing pace.
A hard, fast, brutal rhythm that rocks her forward with every thrust. The sounds are obscene now—the wet slap of our bodies, my harsh grunts, her choked little moans.
I am fucking her.
Breeding her.
Claiming her from the inside out.
My hand comes down on her ass with a sharp, stinging slap.
She yelps, more in surprise than pain.
“Mine,” I snarl, my hand rubbing the red mark I just left. “This ass is mine. This cunt is mine. This womb is mine.”
Another slap. Then another.
The stinging heat spreads, mingling with the pleasure coiling in her belly, pushing her higher, closer to an edge she has never approached.
My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her up, her back flush against my chest. I am still inside her, deep, moving in those hard, grinding thrusts. My other hand moves up to her breast, calloused thumb rasping over her nipple, pinching it just hard enough to make her gasp.
I am everywhere. Inside her.
My scent in her lungs, my heat on her skin, my words in her ear.
“Look down, Narai,” I command, my breath hot against her neck.
She does.
She sees our bodies joined, sees the thick, dark length of me disappearing into her pale flesh. Sees the way I am stretching her, owning her, marking her as mine.
“See how well you take me,” I say, my voice a low, triumphant growl. “You were made for this. Made for me.”
I shift, changing the angle just slightly, and the world splinters.
A blinding wave of pleasure crashes over her, so intense it is almost painful. Her back arches, a cry tearing from her throat as her body clenches and spasms around me. A wild, uncontrollable thing that rips through her, leaving her shaking and breathless and utterly, completely undone.
I follow her over the edge.
With a hoarse roar, I bury myself to the hilt, my hips jerking as I spill into her again, a hot, powerful flood that seems to go on forever.
This time, when I collapse, I take her with me, rolling to our side so we are tangled together on the furs. My leg is thrown over hers, a heavy, possessive weight. My arm is banded around her waist, holding her close.
I am still inside her, a slow, deep throbbing that is a constant reminder of my claim.
For a long while, the only sounds are the crackle of the fire and our slowing heartbeats.
She is limp, her body aching in a dozen new places, her mind a quiet, exhausted space. She is draped over me, her head on my chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of my heart.
My fingers stroke her hair, a slow, lazy gesture that is at odds with the brutal possession of the last hour.
“Veli,” I murmur, the word a soft vibration against her cheek.
Beloved.
She doesn’t answer. She can’t.
She just lies there, breathing me in, and I know her mind is trying to understand the new, terrifying landscape of her own heart and the thought that she is only wanted to breed. To fill my tent. Not loved. Just needed for a womb.
I shift, and I feel myself begin to harden inside her again.
Her body, exhausted and over sensitized, tenses. A fresh wave of fear washes over her, a primal fear of being broken, of being used until there is nothing left.
I feel it.
My hand tightens in her hair, a gentle, reassuring tug.
“Vah,” I whisper. Stay.
I don’t start moving again. Not yet. I just hold her, letting her adjust to the idea of me, to the reality of my inexhaustible appetite.
“You are mine, Keandra,” I say, my voice a low, possessive rumble. “In every way. Your body knows it. Your scent knows it. Soon, your womb will know it too.”
I roll her onto her back again.
I spread her legs with my knees, settling between them with a sigh of contentment.
I look down at her, my expression unreadable in the flickering firelight.
“You are beautiful,” I say, and the words are a surprise. A raw, unexpected vulnerability. “So beautifully human. So fragile.”
I lean down and kiss her.
It is a slow, deep, possessive kiss. A kiss that claims, not just her mouth, but her breath, her thoughts, her very soul.
When I pull back, my golden eyes are burning with an intensity that makes her breath catch.
“I will never let you go,” I say, and it is a promise.
Then I begin to move again.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
A deep, grinding rhythm.About reminding her body who it belongs to.
Her body, traitorous, wanton thing, responds. A soft sigh escapes her lips. Her hips lift to meet me.
A low growl of approval rumbles in my chest.
“That’s it, my Veli,” I rasp. “Take your King.”
I move inside her for a long time, a slow, inexorable tide of pleasure and possession that wears down her last defenses. I watch her face, my gaze intense, possessive, as if I am memorizing every expression, every gasp, every shiver.
I am not just fucking her.
I am claiming her in the most fundamental way possible, carving a place for myself inside her body and her soul.