Chapter 22 Marcus
MARCUS
Esmerelda after a wolf run—sweat-slick, hair tangled, eyes blazing—is beautiful. But Esmerelda undone beneath me, trembling from release, is something else entirely.
It sears into me, hotter than any scar carved into my skin.
Her body is still quaking beneath me, her skin dewy with sweat.
A flush of pleasure dots her neck and creeps up her face.
She’s magnificent. I almost don’t want to break the spell, but the taste of her is still exploding on my tongue, and I need to be inside her.
My muscles burn from holding back, from bracing myself above her, but I can’t look away.
Can’t breathe without tasting her gasps in the air between us.
Her nails scrape down my back in an attempt to pull me closer.
Skin on skin, it scorches me, ignited by the sheer force of my restraint as I hold back and allow her to come down from her high.
Allow her to soak up her pleasure. My lungs fight for air, my pulse a savage drum in my throat.
Every nerve ending is alive, every breath soaked with her scent, salt and heat and the faint wild tang of wolf still clinging to her skin.
If the fates came to me right now and said this was it—that this was the last time I’d ever see her, stripped bare, shattered, and trusting me to hold her together—I’d sign my soul away in blood. I’d kneel. I’d beg. Anything to keep her here, in my hands, undone for me.
Because this isn’t just beauty. Beauty fades. This is truth. Raw. Terrifying. A moment that digs deeper than lust, deeper than scars, deeper than any control I’ve ever clung to.
Her lashes flutter against flushed cheeks, her mouth parted, still gasping in the aftershocks, and I swear it brands me from the inside out. A mark no one will ever see, but one I’ll never be rid of. And gods help me, I don’t want to.
My chest heaves against hers, every muscle coiled so tight I’m seconds from snapping. I press my forehead to hers.
“Esmerelda,” I rasp, the sound torn from somewhere raw and aching, rougher than I mean it to be.
My throat burns with the words, my body shaking with the need to claim her.
My wolf growls impatiently. “I’m going to fuck you now.
” My voice drops lower, darker, the promise grinding between my teeth. “And it won’t be gentle.”
For a heartbeat, I brace for her to push me away. But her gaze darkens, ignites—permission and challenge all at once.
“Good,” she whispers, soft but edged with steel.
The last thread of my restraint snaps. The feral part of me I’ve kept caged bursts free. She’s the key. The only one who could ever unchain me.
I slam into her in one brutal, claiming thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
The impact knocks the air from my lungs, my body bowing over hers as if I can fuse us together.
Heat scorches up my spine, so consuming it nearly unravels me on the spot.
She’s slick, tight—gods, impossibly tight—clutching at me like her body knows mine, like she was carved to fit me and only me.
A sound tears out of me, rough and broken. I drag my mouth to her ear, can’t stop the guttural groan vibrating against her skin. “Fuck, Esme,” I breathe, voice wrecked, raw with the truth I can’t cage. “So perfect. You were made for me. Made to take me like this.”
Her body squeezes around me in answer, her nails digging deeper into my back, and I swear it brands me deeper than any scar. Every thrust is a vow I can’t take back, every shudder a prayer answered.
She moves her hands down my torso to my ass, pulling me to her. She’s meeting me, matching me, daring me, and it undoes me more than her body ever could. She trembles and writhes, greedy for more, wringing me dry, and my control frays to nothing.
I yank her down the bed, and hook her feet over my shoulders.
The angle shifts, becoming brutal, perfect, and I drive back into her in long, merciless strokes.
Each thrust drags a sound from her throat that makes my blood roar, makes my vision haze.
She arches beneath me, spine curving like a bow, wide open, taking me deeper than I thought possible.
Buried to the hilt, I’m drowning in her heat, her slickness, the impossible clutch of her body around mine.
“Marcus.” Just my name, one word, but it slams into me like a prayer, a plea, a demand all at once.
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to let go, to lose myself. “Tell me what you want.”
Her lashes flutter, lips trembling. “More. I want more. Please.”
That please rips through me like claws down my spine, nearly buckling my control. Gods, I could come right now, give her everything, but I force it back, choking on restraint.
“You have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” My hips slow, dragging against every nerve inside her. My voice comes out dark, taunting, desperate to hear her beg. “More what?”
Her hands roam my body like she can’t get enough, her gaze blazing as she gasps, “Faster. Please. Harder.”
The sound of it—raw, needy, for me—obliterates the last of my sanity.
Her words shred the last thread of sense I’ve been clinging to.
My body’s already straining, ready to spill, but I choke it back, teeth clenched so tight my jaw aches.
Not yet. Not until I give her everything.
Not until she knows this isn’t just fucking—it’s…
I don’t know what it is, but it’s so much more.
I grip her hips and drive into her with ruthless rhythm.
Each thrust tears another sound from her throat, soft whimpers that feed the wildfire burning through my veins.
Her hair fans across the pillow, a dark halo gone wild, her face contorted in ecstasy.
She’s a vision I’ll bleed to keep—beautiful, fierce, mine.
A groan rips out of me, jagged and raw, before I can swallow it. My chest heaves, lungs burning with the effort of holding back. It isn’t enough to feel her—it will never be enough. I need her to see me. To know me.
I catch her chin, fingers digging just enough to make her eyes snap open. My gaze locks on hers, desperate and demanding. “Look at me,” I rasp, voice shredded, as if the words are being torn out of me. “See me. Know it’s me inside you. No masks. No lies. Just us.”
The plea tastes like a confession, like surrender, but it’s the only truth I have left to give her.
Her eyes flash open, unguarded, and it shatters me. Being inside her is fire, but being seen by her is the most dangerous thing of all. And gods, I crave it.
I drive harder, faster, until the bed itself groans. Her cries slice through me, wild and desperate, urging me on, burning me alive. Her climax builds violently, her body clutching me, dragging me into her fire. When she screams my name, it detonates something primal inside me.
I lose it completely. There’s no thought, no shield, no restraint. Just her body gripping me tight as I spill into her, filling her until I’m wrung dry. My release tears through me in brutal waves, claiming me as surely as I claimed her.
There’s no past. No lies. No divide. Just us. Burning. Breaking. Together.
If only she didn’t hate me. If only our story had started differently.
When we collapse, tangled and breathless, she curls into me without hesitation, her warmth seeping into my bones like it belongs there.
I’ve never met anyone like Esmerelda. Her fire brings me to my knees, and I know the truth I can’t escape: I am utterly, completely fucked.
Because I’ll never find anyone like her again.