16 Sloane #2
Through the bond, I felt Finn’s control fraying. The civilized edifice of the Treaty Court heir was crumbling, the hungry predator clawing through the rubble. He withdrew his fingers and I whined in protest. He crawled his massive body up the length of mine.
He was shaking. A fine, high-tension tremor vibrating through every corded muscle. His incredibly thick, heavy cock throbbed against my thigh, scorching hot and rigid with restraint.
“My turn,” I panted, finding his golden eyes. My wolf was starving for the weight of him, practically begging to be dominated by the Alpha she had claimed. “My turn to choose.”
I rolled over.
I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees in the center of the bed, explicitly offering myself to him from behind.
For a fraction of a second, the old chalk-runner screamed. It was the ultimate posture of vulnerability. To turn my back, to bare my neck, to give over my sight and my defenses to a man larger and stronger than me. It went against decades of survival instincts.
But my wolf surged up, baring her teeth at the ghost of my trauma. Protected, she roared. Claimed! We are safe.
Finn’s heavy hands clamped down on my hips, pulling my ass flush against his thighs. The raw growl that tore out of his chest sent a thrill of anticipation straight down my spine.
He guided the thick head of his cock to my opening and drove forward in one devastating thrust.
I cried out, an inarticulate sound of pure shock and pleasure as he filled me completely. The angle was staggeringly deep.
“Perfect,” Finn snarled, his voice guttural and hoarse. “Goddess, you grip me so tight.”
He withdrew almost completely, the slick friction dragging another whine from my throat, and plunged back in. The wet, heavy slap of his body colliding with mine echoed off the walls. He set a brutal, driving rhythm, taking me from behind with a primal ferocity that incinerated my ability to think.
He reached around my waist, his massive hands catching my heavy, swaying breasts. He squeezed the soft flesh, rolling my tight nipples between his calloused thumbs while he hammered his hips against me.
“You’re carrying my line, Sloane,” he grunted, the impact of his thrusts driving the words into my skin. “Taking every inch of me. My mate.”
“Yes,” I gasped, my chin dropping to the mattress as I arched my spine backward to take him deeper. Every thrust sent flares of electricity shooting up my stomach. “Harder, Finn. Don’t stop.”
He leaned over my back, his chest pressing against my spine, his mouth finding my shoulder.
He bit down—not enough to break the skin, but hard enough to send a spike of pure animal dominance ringing through the bond mark.
The sensory overload was absolute: his thick cock stretching me open, the rough pinch of his fingers on my nipples, his teeth on my shoulder, the knowledge that deep inside me, our pup was already forming.
The tension coiled at the base of my pelvis until it was unbearable.
“Finn,” I sobbed, my hips unconsciously snapping back to meet his furious thrusts. “I’m—it’s too much, I’m going to—”
“Come for me,” he commanded, his thumb pressing down hard on my clit exactly as he drove his hips into me to the hilt.
I shattered a second time. My body convulsed, a powerful, milking climax that ripped a scream from my throat. My inner walls crushed around his thick shaft, spasming so violently I felt him grunt in sheer agony against my back.
He stopped thrusting, freezing deep inside me as my climax rode itself out, his chest heaving like a bellows against my spine.
I was a boneless, trembling wreck. I collapsed onto the mattress, panting into the dark sheets.
But Finn wasn’t finished. Not even close.
As my spasms began to subside, he gripped my hips and dragged backward, pulling his heavy cock completely out of me. The sudden emptiness was a physical ache. Before my brain could process the loss, his massive hands locked under my armpits, and he hauled me entirely off the bed.
“Wrap your legs,” he barked.
I obeyed instantly, throwing my arms around his neck, my thighs locking tightly around his waist. He carried me across the small bedroom in two long strides and held my back flush against the solid wood of the door.
Finn braced my weight against the wood, driving his hips forward and sinking his thick, scorching erection back into my slick heat with a force that made me see stars.
I scrambled to anchor my hands in his hair, but he grabbed both of my wrists with one of his massive hands. He hauled my arms up and pinned them firmly against the flat wood above my head, leaving my body completely open, arched, and entirely at his mercy.
The survival instinct flashed and then vanished. The feeling of being pinned by him wasn’t terror. It was the most profound relief I had ever known to surrender my control to a man who would burn the world to ashes before he let a single hair on my head be harmed.
With my arms pinned high above my head, my chest was thrust outward, my bared throat exposed.
Finn hammered into me with a fast, brutal rhythm, the heavy muscles of his back and shoulders flexing under the emergency light.
My breasts bounced wildly with every slamming impact, the door rattling in its frame.
The bond was a roaring inferno between us, a superhighway of unfiltered sensation and pure yearning finally finding its release.
“Mine,” he snarled, burying his face in the crook of my neck, right over the bite mark that finalized our bond. “You are completely mine.”
“Yours,” I panted, the friction of his thick cock driving me toward a third, impossible edge. “Finn, give it to me! Please!”
The last leash on the civilized Treaty Court heir snapped.
Finn let out a deafening, inhuman roar. He drove his hips into me with bone-jarring force, burying his thick shaft to the absolute hilt and holding it there, pinning me flush against the door. His massive frame shook violently against mine as he detonated.
Hot, thick surges of his seed flooded deep into my core.
He emptied himself into me with wave after endless wave, the sheer power and volume of his climax driving me right over the edge alongside him.
My own orgasm ripped through me, my inner walls clenching greedily around him, milking every last drop of his offering while I sobbed his name.
He slumped forward, resting his forehead against the door right beside my head. His chest heaved, his lungs fighting for oxygen, the sweat from his skin plastering us together.
I let my head fall back against the wood, my pinned wrists throbbing deliciously in his iron grip, my inner thighs quivering around his waist.
Slowly, the tension ebbed from his muscles. His grip on my wrists relaxed, his hand sliding down to tangle in my sweat-dampened hair. He didn’t pull out. He kept us joined, an anchoring weight inside me as his legs gave out a fraction.
We slid slowly down the smooth wood of the door together.
We ended up in a heap of tangled limbs on the cold floorboards, completely exhausted, our chests rising and falling in sync. Finn was tracing soft, worshipful kisses along my jawline, pulling my hair out of my face.
It took us another five minutes to find the strength to untangle. He carried me across the room and we collapsed into the center of his mattress.
I curled against his side, throwing my leg over his heavy thigh. Finn’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, drawing me flush against his side. His other hand, broad and warm, moved down to cover my stomach, his palm spreading wide over my womb, a protective shield of muscle and ash-blackened ink.
I placed my hand over his, lacing our fingers together.
The deep, resonant purr of his wolf echoed in the room, a steady hum of total satisfaction. The ache in the center of his chest that I had felt in the fire tower—the gap that had tormented him for forty years—was filled.
I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of his breathing.
Beyond this door, the world was waiting. The Saints were still hunting, the Verdant Order was still gathering dormants for Severance, and the Conclave still believed their power was absolute.
Tomorrow, there would be blood, fire, and strategy.
But as Finn kissed the crown of my head and the bond settled into an unshakeable golden light behind my ribs, I knew they couldn’t touch me.
My chalk-running days were over. My hiding was done.
I drifted to sleep in the arms of my mate, fully awake, and absolutely ready to burn the monsters to the ground.