Chapter 47 #3
His claws prick my skin at my hip. My breasts quiver with anticipation.
And then, with a low purr that is half a growl, he pushes into me.
My spine arches, belly and core clenching under the great strain.
Taken to capacity and beyond. And I’m just pulsing there, lingering on the verge of spasmodic bliss.
His purr shifts to a deep, rolling growl as he tightens his grip slightly and bears down with the knot.
“Goddess, please.”
I could be telling him to wait, to give me a moment… Or maybe hurrying him along. He bears down with relentless determination, and then the great swelling pops right in.
The sensation is sublime, and lands like a psychic blow that lights up the raw pleasure centers of my brain so hard and fast that my head spins.
Atlas's relentless will bears down on me with equal and opposite force.
A scream is torn from my lips, one that turns into a stuttered sob at the denied release.
The griffins’ hum is so loud it drowns out every other sound.
And then Lark tugs his cock and knot out again, and I get the second riptide of pleasure. Barely has he withdrawn when he slams back in again, knot and all.
It’s too much. It’s too intense, like I’m breaking down into cosmic dust. My body is on fire. Heat courses through my veins. Pinpricks of light form across my skin. The very follicles of my hair tingle as do the tips of my fingers and toes.
Lark pounds into me with relentless, animal ferocity. And I’m so open now, slick, that even the girthy nature of his knot slips inside with growing ease.
My breasts sway with every brutal coupling.
Hanging on the point of madness, I feel a presence absent and yet familiar reaching for me.
The missing piece, my anchor.
His phantom hands glide over me—my breasts, down my belly, fingers brushing against my clit. They leave a wet trail as they roam back up my body. The brush of lips. His breath mingling with mine.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, trickling down to dampen the hairline at my temples.
“Please, please, please, please, please,” I chant.
The knot is growing bigger, swelling even more. Of necessity, Lark slows his thrusts. Each penetration now becomes an act of will.
“Just a little more,” Atlas entreats. “Just a little more for us.”
Sweat bathes my body, trailing between my breasts, along my throat, down the length of my spine.
I’m rising unerringly, bound for an even higher summit.
With the next thrust, the knot swells to an impossible size. For a terrifying moment, I fear it will not fit.
And then it just slides in. Pulsing, pressing those hidden pleasure centers inside my core. His wolven lips are against my throat. His fangs penetrate my flesh.
The gate is lifted.
Light and rapture flood me.
My body contorts as my climax rolls through me.
A cry leaves my lips as he empties his seed into me. So deep. So perfect.
He purr-growls low, worrying at my throat, claiming me.
My mind is spinning, circling outward and upward, rushing.
I witness myself from above. A young woman spread out upon a platform. Around her, her mates. The werebeast crowds over her, his great bulk almost hiding her from view.
A man lies upon a litter beside the group. And as I look down through the eyes of the many griffins upon a face much changed and yet achingly familiar—Rafe opens his eyes.
My eyes roll back, and darkness comes for me. I’m aware of movement around, of low voices and gentle hands as though from a great distance.
“Open your eyes, lass.”
My eyelids are heavy, but that voice—rougher and a little deeper—calling me in my mind helps me push through. I blink slowly. The others have moved a little aside, making space for a huge alpha who is leaning over me with a stern expression on his handsome face.
Rafe.
“I feel as though I have slept a lifetime,” he says, his voice a low rasp of gravel, yet it is still his. “That was quite a scene to wake up to.”
He smiles. Little crinkles appear at the corners of his forest-green eyes. So much of him has changed, but I grasp these anchors.
“I believe it is my turn,” he purrs. His smile drops, and he bestows me such a hot look that I swear a mini climax goes off inside my womb. “My turn to love the Griffin Queen.”
I tilt my chin and give him my best former princess-now-queen look of challenge. The effect is spoiled when I nip my lower lip to hide my growing smile. “What are you waiting for, mate?”
His low, husky chuckle melts me. “As my Queen commands.”
Then he lines up and fills me with a single thrust. His knot is halfway formed. He is big all over, and assuredly, there, and even after all my loving… and Lark, I experience a delectable stretch.
“Still a hussy,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. “Already fisting my length, encouraging me to knot your needy cunt.”
I groan in bliss as he begins to move, hips working, the delectable push and pull and soaring pleasure.
“This won’t take long, lass,” he grits out.
His familiar term of endearment, one he has used since the very beginning, makes love bloom anew and wondrous in my chest.
I nearly lost this man. Saw his absence and the great hole it would leave in my mind’s eyes. Now he is inside me, loving me, whispering filthy words and making my body sing.
A sweet, joyful climax captures me, tearing a wild cry from my lips.
High above, griffins cry and take to flight. I only have eyes for the man who, but for a miracle, I might have lost.