Chapter 27 #3
He lifts my bound feet to the ceiling and wedges his head between them, letting the sweatpants rest at the back of his neck like shackles locking our bodies in place.
Nik pulls me toward him using his shoulders, bringing the most vulnerable parts of me to rest against the hardest parts of him.
We moan in unison. Him, a rough gasp, and me, a lust-filled plea.
I can’t escape. No, I’m bound to this bed, my arms the only thing unrestrained.
I’m at his mercy now, and as the tip of his throbbing cock grazes my center, I claw at the bedding with salacious anticipation.
Something builds in my stomach. It’s not human, though.
No, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
It’s deeper. A pressure I can’t quite describe.
I don’t know what it is but I’m certain there’s one thing that might fix it.
Him. I need him. His body tied to mine in the most satisfying way.
I’ll howl. I’ll howl at every goddamn moon if I have to.
If it means he will cure this incredible desire torturing my insides.
“Mmmm,” he growls. “You might be able to stay silent but your body can’t.” Nik removes the military jacket from his waist, unsheathing himself and letting his hard cock slap down against me with a thud. “It’s a good thing your healing has started. You’re going to need it.”
I don’t move. I don’t speak. I simply wait for a monster in the form of Nikolai Vostik to give me the one thing I’d gladly claw out my own eyes for.
He grabs his cock at the base, driving it toward my center, spreading me open inch by satisfying inch.
I scream with indescribable bliss, feeling the way my walls stretch around his length the deeper he shoves himself.
Pain spikes when he’s fully engorged inside me, his thighs clapping against the backs of mine.
And when he slides back, I pray to every god, every pack, he doesn’t stop there.
He doesn’t. Oh, no. Nik slams into me with the force of a battering ram, painting this guest room in the Duval den an explosive color palette.
Blues. Pinks. Purples all burst in my vision.
Another thrust, bringing greens and different shades of red while using his hands to brace my hips.
I don’t scream. I cry at each fulfilling entry, begging for another to follow.
Dragging my nails down his chest as he threatens to unravel me, something drips between my fingers.
And when I peer through clenched eyes at my hands holding onto his waist for dear life, I see the sharp, uneven incisions trailing down his chest. My nails are gone, and in their place … claws.
Nik buries his cock inside me again and again, seemingly unbothered by the blood trickling down his defined torso to a red pool at my stomach. What have I done? The gashes are thick and slice through the hardest part of his abdomen, revealing layers of skin down to the sharp white of bone.
I gasp and cover my mouth with both hands, smearing copper to each cheek. “I—I didn’t mean to—"
“Taste it,” Nik cuts me off and slams into me again. Once. Twice. Three more times, his eyes glowing in the same, arterial shade. “Taste me.”
That’s when I smell it. The blood coating my knuckles.
It isn’t off-putting. It’s different. Sweet, almost. I bring my index finger to my mouth, hesitantly at first, and when I lick it clean on impulse, the rest of my hand is next on the menu.
An insatiable urge takes over, desperate to lap up every bit of him I can.
One taste isn’t enough. No, I need more if I’m ever meant to survive this delicious punishment he’s inflicting.
And thank god, he doesn’t stop on my account.
If anything, he shoves himself deeper, pace quickening.
I’m not sure if it’s his blood or my arousal dripping down his cock now, but it’s the least of my concerns.
All I know is I’m being dragged to the brink and this wolf is my only anchor.
“Howl,” he says, his voice strained as he slides himself in fully. “I want to hear your first.”
My arms fall uselessly at my sides, his blood soaking into the comforter in thick red splotches.
I want to tell him I can’t. That I don’t know how, but the only sounds bumping out of my throat with every thrust of his cock are stifled whimpers.
I could scream, sure. I could scream until my voice cracks from how this man is my undoing. But howl? I’m not sure I can.
“Howl for me!” he demands again, this time slamming his body into mine, the force lifting my entire back from the mattress.
The sound starts at my chest, vibrating through the bones dedicated to protect it.
When it reaches my throat, the noise turns feral, unlike anything I’ve ever produced.
Short, strangled breaths pass through my lips.
And as my climax reaches its peak, I lose myself to the taste of his blood.
To this man filling me mercilessly. Violent cries shake not only the stone walls of the room but what feels like the entire west wing.
Then, the cries distort into something else.
I howl.
I howl loud enough for every wolf in this castle to hear it.