Blaidd
The need shook me to my core. While she rested, I catalogued my marks across her skin. Pinprick claw marks littered her arse and hips. Bite marks ringed her neck, breasts, shoulders. Every hole was wrecked and filled with seed.
Marked.
Then I felt it.
Felt what Fenrir had done.
The bond.
I could feel when her heat rose. I felt the moment I teased a beat too long. I felt when my dick pushed too deep—how the pain twisted into pleasure, feeding something dark inside me. I served her body through that bond. Heat and rut fused together, inseparable.
After thirty-seven years of never losing control, never feeling, something imploded inside me. A fracture. A door opening onto a world I’d never known.
I palmed her arse cheek—thick, soft, mine. My fingers slid down her inner thigh, scraping along her seam. Wet. I lifted them and inhaled. Our scent thickened my cock instantly. I licked my fingers, tasting her come—creamy, sweet, unmistakable.
I understood then why Fenrir bit her.
He knew she was his animal.
She stirred.
My eyes snapped to her sleeping form.
Her heat surged.
And I moved.
?
?
?
I pressed her down by the nape until her hips rose. She shuffled onto her knees as I stroked the mass of tangled curls, coated in come—dried and worked into her hair. I bent and inhaled.
The heat was fading, but my rut was alive and well.
I leaned back, satisfied when she kept her cheek pressed to the mattress. I glanced down and gathered the come trailing down her thighs. She sighed at the touch. I let it drip onto her puckered hole before collecting more.
She knew what was coming. I felt her need spike.
The come pooled on her arsehole—a stark, obscene contrast. I slicked two fingers and pried her open until they slid inside. I scooped more from her pussy, watching as it disappeared into her stretched hole.
I took my time—stretching, teasing, filling.
She lifted her hips higher. That was when I rose over her.
My Friday nights would never be the same.
I slid my cock from her pussy to her wet little hole. Once. Twice. The third time, she growled. I guided the head, resting it against her arsehole.
No condoms.
No gloves.
Just her surrender and my demand.
“Now,” she hissed.
I bent my knees, keeping a steady hand on her back as I spread her open with the tip of my cock.
The stretching had helped; I slid into the tight passage inch by inch.
The ring of muscle weakened as I sank deeper.
I held there, fucking her with just the tip—waiting.
In and out. Again and again. Until she softened.
I inhaled, breathing us in, pausing long enough to admire the tones.
“You know what comes next,” I murmured, pressing her down until her knees bent.
She shuffled forward, low on the bed. I spread my knees wider and thrust in. Her cries were muffled against the covers.
“This. Is. My. Arsehole,” I growled, plunging deeper with each word.
She panted through the pain, opening beautifully. The deeper I went, the more pleasure took hold. I could smell her pussy leaking, sharp and relentless.
“Such a good hole,” I groaned as my knot hit her arse cheeks. “Taking it all.”
I braced my hands on the bed and drove into her, pounding hard enough that her body rebounded to meet me.
“Good girl,” I rasped. “Give me that arsehole.”
She clutched a pillow, dragging it to her face, grunting every time I bottomed out.
I slowed to tease her—then sped up to torment her, switching rhythm and depth to feel everything. On and on, until her tight little hole fluttered around me.
That’s when I let go.
I hammered deeper, my knot crushed between each thrust. She was built for this. Extraordinary. No one could take my size—my knot—the way she could.
“Take it,” I roared. “Take my cock, my seed—feel my knot.”
She trembled beneath me, crying into the pillow as she came.
Her scent detonated around us as I slammed home one last time, rocking my knot against her clenching hole. My vision blurred as my seed spilled out in thick surges. Something deep in my chest eased as I continued to empty myself into her.
She moaned, boneless and blissed out.
This wasn’t sex. It was two wild animals completing one another.
I covered her back, feeling the damp heat mingle between us.
I smiled as her heat dimmed.
One more day left.
And I would make it count.
?
?
?
The sound of the waves woke me. They were nothing like last night’s storm—the violent winds, the crashing surf. Now there was only the gentle rhythm of the tide rolling back and forth. The first hint of sunrise lit part of the room, but it was the absence of Lielit’s scent that made me pause.
I glanced to my side.
She was there, buried beneath the covers.
But her heat was gone.
The entire room would need to be sanitised, yet as I breathed in the stale scent of our mating, I didn’t want to wipe the evidence away. Not yet.
Fenrir grunted.
Wasn’t she fucking spectacular? I asked, my lips curving into a half-smile. I never knew a woman could bounce on my dick like that.
Memories collided—too many favourites to choose from.
I was still cataloguing them in my mind when Lielit stirred and yawned, stretching her arms out.
“Morning,” I said, turning onto my side and propping myself on an elbow.
I didn’t even flinch when something crusty brushed my arm.
She rolled her neck slowly, working out the stiffness, then kicked the covers away. Her feet hit the floor as she sat up.
My gaze tracked her bare back as she stood.
She crossed the room naked, didn’t look back once.
“Get out,” she said.
The bathroom door slammed.
I stared at the white wood.
The lock clicked.
Seconds later, the shower roared to life.
Fenrir chuckled.
I pushed myself upright, scanning the space around me.
My fucking room.
In my house.
The room I’d spent five goddamn days and nights in.
One bed. One closet.
Chipped paint. Wallpaper peeling near the ceiling.
And I’d stayed here.
I kept my eyes on the door, listening to the water pound.
Why is she acting like this? I asked Fenrir.
The bond isn’t complete.
I scratched my head. It didn’t track. I’d felt her. Through it.
Even now, I could still feel—
I stopped. Focused. Reached for it.
Nothing.
I tried again.
Harder.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
I dragged on my shorts, eyes fixed on the locked door.
This wouldn’t end well for her.