10. Alas #3
My shaft angles sharply upward, driving against the deepest, most sensitive place inside her.
She screams.
The new depth is agonizingly profound. I bottom out where she’s never been opened before.
"Fuck!" I roar.
The tightness of her walls clenching around my shaft nearly forces my climax. The slick bubbles and froths around the base of my cock with every brutal thrust. The intoxicating smell of warm beeswax, raw clover honey, and violent sex suffocates the air in the small shed.
I pump into her deeply, riding the new angle with relentless, punishing force.
I want to destroy her isolation. I want to obliterate the lonely, defensive wall she built around her heart. I want every single thrust to remind her that I’m the wall now. I’m the shield. I’m the monster she keeps at her door so the rest of the world stays the fuck away.
I drive my hips like a piston. My balls slap aggressively against her soaked perineum.
Her head thrashes wildly on the wooden bench. The erratic yellow light from the swinging bulb flashes over her sweat-drenched skin. Her breasts bounce violently with every impact.
"Alas!" she shrieks. "It's too deep! God, it's too deep!"
"Take it," I command harshly. I don’t slow down. I don’t lessen the impact. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
I reach down between our colliding bodies. My large thumb finds her swollen, dripping clit. It’s slick with her arousal and my sweat.
I press my thumb down hard. I grind the sensitive nub violently against her pubic bone while I continue to pound my cock hilt-deep into her scorching pussy.
The sensory overload breaks her.
Her body arches rigidly off the wood. Her spine locks. Her jaw stretches wide in a silent, agonizing scream of pure ecstasy.
The violent contractions of her climax hit my cock like a vice. Her inner walls spasm relentlessly, clamping down hard around the ridges of my shaft. She milks me aggressively. The intense, squeezing pressure drags the climax straight out of my balls.
The volatile rage inside me reaches its boiling point.
I pull back for one final thrust.
I drive my hips forward, burying my cock so deep inside her I feel like I’m touching her heart.
My climax crashes through me with the force of a detonating bomb. A guttural roar tears out of my throat. I pump my hips in short jerks, flooding her deep inside with my hot seed.
I fill her. I breed her. I leave my mark inside her body.
The pulses of my release match the contractions of her own climax. We shatter together on the bench, our bodies locked in a sweaty embrace while the cold mountain wind howls through the open window above us.
The erratic yellow bulb swings wildly, casting long shadows over the walls of the honey shed.
I stay buried hilt-deep inside her. I don’t pull out. I refuse to give up an inch of my territory.
My chest heaves, dragging in lungfuls of pine air and the scent of raw honey and sex. My sweat drips down onto her bare breasts. Her hands slide weakly from my shoulders, her fingers tracing the scars on my back.
She breathes hard, her chest rising and falling in rapid, jerky motions. Her thighs tremble up at my shoulders. The wet, sticky mess of our combined slick and my seed leaks slowly from her thoroughly wrecked pussy, dripping down my thighs and pooling onto the wood beneath her.
The room goes quiet. The only sounds are the wind battering the roof, the creak of the rusted hinges on the window, and the ragged panting of our breath.
I slowly lower her legs from my shoulders. I wrap my arms around her waist and drag her upward, pulling her torso flush against me. She buries her face into the crook of my neck. Her nose presses against the hollow beneath my ear.
The cold wind hits my sweaty back. It hits her bare shoulders. She shivers, clinging tighter to my heat.
"You stay here," I whisper harshly against her ear. My voice is ragged, blown out from the violence of the claiming. "You stay on this farm. You stay with me."
She nods against my neck. Her arms tighten around my back.
"I stay," she breathes.
The vow settles into my bones. It quiets the last remaining static in my head. The Ignition that sparked in this shed days ago is complete. The fated bond welds shut in the same cold air where the first spark caught.
I press my lips to the soft skin of her jaw. I bite down gently, tasting the salt of her sweat.
The Silver Serpent Syndicate thinks they can take this mountain. They think they can file paperwork and claim the south trail. They think they can push past the hive line.
They’re wrong.
I’m Alas. I’m the weapon the club uses when diplomacy fails. And now, I have a home. Now, I have a queen to protect.
I remain buried deep inside her wet, slick heat. I stare out the open window into the pitch-black darkness of the ridge road. I make a silent, blood oath to the mountain wind.
Any man who steps foot on this property will die by my bare hands. I’ll bleed them into the dirt. I’ll feed them to the pines. This shed, this farm, this woman—they’re mine, and mine alone.