29. Claimed
Claimed
G eralt’s hard cock pressed insistently against Greta’s damp panties, his hips making slow, deliberate thrusts. Her pebbled nipples scraped along the material of her bra, heightening her arousal. She felt eyes on them and pulled her mouth from his.
Through swollen lips, she gasped, “Geralt, we can’t—” His mouth cut off her protests. Calloused fingers slid against her thigh, aiming for her pulsing core. She shook her head, dislodging his mouth again.
“Geralt—”
“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his husky voice sliding along her nerve endings. She nodded with wide eyes, wondering where he was going with this. Her eyes drifted shut, and she moaned when his fingers slid along her slick folds. Her hips eagerly thrusted toward his fingers, forgetting why she was protesting.
Soft lips caressed her cheek, breath fanning her warm skin. “Do you know how Lycans claim their mate? To welcome them into the pack?” She moaned, shaking her head, chasing the pleasure his talented fingers offered her .
“They rut them in front of the entire pack.” Greta gasped, eyes snapping open as pleasure slammed into her, walls clenching on air. She needed him inside of her like she needed her next breath.
“Geralt,” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes and blurring her vision. His lips lifted into a satisfied smile. “I’ll take care of you, mate. Just keep those pretty eyes on me.” His lips teased hers, a featherlight touch. “Imagine it’s just you and me here. Just let go and trust me.”
A whimper slipped from her lips when she felt the tip of his cock teasing her opening. She moaned when the head breached her, tightening her legs around his waist. Geralt groaned, slamming one hand near her head. His eyes locked with hers and she felt helpless to look away. He gazed into her while slowly sliding his cock home, stretching her with his girth.
She clenched around him, moans erupting from her with each delicious inch scraping her walls, edging her closer to exploding around her mate’s cock. Her eyes must’ve closed in bliss because they popped open when canines scratched against her throat.
“Geralt?” she questioned while her walls fluttered around the thick cock lodged inside her. He stilled after bottoming out, bare chest pressed against her dress. Dampness lured her eyes down to see his scars splitting open, blood staining her black dress, mingling with the dirt from her encounter with the Lycan in the backyard.
“Trust me, Greta,” he mumbled against her neck, teeth scraping her skin, causing gooseflesh to pebble.
She did trust him, but panic lurked beneath the surface of her skin, clouding the lustful haze filling their self-imposed bubble. Not once had she glanced at their audience since he entered her, slender thighs clamped around his waist and dress hitched up to her panty line.
“You won’t feel it when I mark you, mate. I promise,” he growled, a second voice layering his, adding an echo that sounded like claws on a chalkboard. Instinct urged her to run from that voice and the animal speaking with his vocal chords, but when he pulled his hips back and thrust back inside her, stars burst behind her eyes, causing deductive reasoning to flee.
Greta’s fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him tighter, prolonging his time inside her. Geralt grunted, picking a slow, steady pace, hips slamming into hers. Moaning and thrusting against her mate, Greta surrendered.
She writhed against him, back thudding against the wall with each hard snap of his hips. A scream teased her throat. Magick burned her veins, awaking from its slumber. His pleasure bled into hers, feeding the inferno. Greta imagined she saw Hecate’s divine glow, edging closer to the celestial realm with each thrust of her mate’s cock inside of her.
Geralt roared, driving his hips into her, stretching her thighs around his waist. Greta screamed when his knot inflated, heart stuttering in her chest with the tsunami of her climax washing over her. A pain bloomed in her neck, but his knot drew out her pleasure, one orgasm bleeding into another, an endless stream of euphoria.
His hips made slight thrusts, the knot keeping them tethered, but Greta’s mind couldn’t take anymore pleasure. Aftershocks seized her on every movement of his cock, knot scraping her walls, the feeling on the verge of pain and pleasure.
The only sounds filling the living room were the whimpers spilling from her. Geralt’s body remained close to hers, shielding her from view, but everyone heard them, saw them, scented the sex in the air and the cum leaking around Geralt’s swollen knot.
The bond ballooned inside of her, and she groaned at the feeling. It stretched, tethering her to every shifted Lycan in the pack, wrapping an invisible cord around her mind and theirs. An inaudible snap rang in her ears. If she wanted, Greta felt she could pluck the thoughts from any member of their pack, or sift through her mate’s memories, their bond doubling in strength.
Claimed , a weak voice uttered in her mind. When she chased it, it disappeared like smoke. Mate, Geralt’s animal growled in her head. She knew the first voice spoke true. She’d been irrevocably claimed, and blinked sleepily with a dazed smile on her lips.
It felt like coming home, slipping on old weathered shoes, being embraced by a long-lost relative. This, she thought, was where she belonged. She slumped against Geralt, trusting him to care for her, conceding control to him completely.
She was a member of the pack now.