Chapter Eleven
Henrietta
The silence in the car is thicker than the humid night air pressing against the windows. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, a spring wound to breaking. I feel Andrew's gaze on me, heavy and suffocating, the pull of the fated bond a physical ache in my chest.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice a low growl that vibrates through the car's frame, through my bones. It’s the Alpha in him, the part of him that refuses to be ignored.
I love it when he goes all caveman.
“Make me,” I challenge him.
“Back seat,” he growls. “Now.” And I obey.
He’s on me in a heartbeat, one hand fisting in the cheap fabric of my peasant blouse. The sound of ripping cotton is shockingly loud.
We’re a tangle of limbs in the cramped backseat, the scent of him—pine, earth, and mine—overwhelming my senses.
I push him down against the worn upholstery, my skirt riding up around my hips.
My lips leave his, trailing a path of hungry kisses down the corded muscle of his throat, over the frantic beat of his heart.
I feel his muscles tense, a low growl rumbling in his chest as my fingers hook into the waistband of his jeans, yanking them down.
My gaze meets his as I lower my head, a silent challenge passing between us.
His eyes are dark, full of fury and a desperate, matching hunger.
Then I take his thick cock into my mouth, a raw act that is both surrender and domination.
The taste of him is salt and sweetness. His hands tangles in my hair, the grip not painful but possessive, a chain forged in the heat of our shared, wretched history.
My mouth caresses him, and I tease him with my tongue, and his tortured groans are music to my ears.
He wrenches my head back by my hair. The grip is just on the right side of painful, an iron command from an Alpha to his mate.
"On your hands and knees," he growls, the words a raw command that bypasses my brain and goes straight to the wolf snarling beneath my skin.
There is no thought of defiance. My body responds instantly, a shudder of pure, illicit pleasure running through me at the stark dominance in his tone.
I scramble to obey, my palms pressing into the worn leather of the back seat, my knees sinking into the floor mats.
The world narrows to the space between us. I’m exposed, vulnerable, my back a smooth arc offered up to him. I hear the harsh sound of his breathing. He doesn’t speak, but the silence is heavier than words. His hands grip my hips, branding my skin with their heat, and I brace myself.
Then he enters me with one hard, deep thrust. There’s no preamble, no gentleness, only a raw, possessive claiming that steals the breath from my lungs.
It’s a punishment, a reconciliation, a violent affirmation of the bond we both are trying to deny.
The pain is a fleeting thing, quickly swallowed by a wave of intense, overwhelming pleasure.
My head falls forward, a gasp tearing from my throat as he sets a brutal rhythm, each stroke a brand, each movement a reminder of the power he holds over me.
A coil of heat, impossibly tight, winds deep in my belly. Each forceful thrust pushes me closer to the precipice, the friction against my most sensitive spot sending sparks through my veins.
Andrew's grip on my hips tightens, holding me immobile for his possession, and the sheer, unadulterated dominance of it finally breaks me. The coil snaps, and a silent scream tears from my throat as my world dissolves into a blinding, shuddering wave of ecstasy. My inner walls clamp down on him, a rhythmic, pulsing grip, my body convulsing with an orgasm so intense it’s agony, a complete and utter surrender.
I’m still trembling, lost in the aftershocks, when he drives into me one last, brutal time.
A hoarse, guttural roar tears from his chest, the sound of a predator claiming its mate.
I feel him pulse inside me, a deep, scalding heat that marked me from the inside out.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the car are our ragged gasps for air, the frantic thumping of our hearts gradually slowing.
This can’t go on. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I can never let myself need this, because as soon as we’re done with the corn crops we’ll never have reason to come back here again.
Well, at least there’s a built in expiration date to…whatever this is.
“How about now?” he rasps. “Is that bond finally breaking?’
“It’s getting closer. I think a few more times and it will totally snap.” I sink down on the seat and he relaxes and wraps his arms around me.