Chapter 45 #2
“Easy,” Alarik murmured against her skin. “We’ve only just begun.”
Reiya barely had time to process the words before Kaelen’s hand drifted lower, his fingers tracing the soft curve of her stomach, and down until his knuckles brushed against the inside of her thigh.
One finger slid along her seam—parting, teasing.
She gasped, her head falling back against the furs as he found her slick lips, stroking once, then again. And again.
Alarik’s arms came around her, steadying her as her body clenched in response.
Kaelen’s mouth shifted lower, tracing a path from her breast down to her belly and even lower. She gasped when his lips pressed to the inside of her knee before he kissed higher, his tongue tracing slow, torturous patterns over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Then, his mouth found her, his tongue sliding over her just right, a slow, devastating stroke that had her body jolting in Alarik’s hold.
Softly, he cursed against her temple.
He tightened his grip as Kaelen’s mouth worked her—tongue stroking, circling, flicking with a ruthless precision that sent pleasure sparking down her spine.
Every wet pull, every press of his lips drew her higher, the tension winding sharp and hot inside her.
It was filthy, the way he devoured her; sinful, intoxicating—and gods help her, she never wanted him to stop .
“Kaelen,” she gasped, her nails biting into his scalp. “More . . . please, Alpha.”
The sound of that word— Alpha —sent a shudder through him.
A deep, primal growl rumbled against her skin, and then his fingers were sliding inside her, stretching her, coaxing her open, his tongue flicking her bud in perfect tandem with each stroke.
Her body burned, vision blurring as her thighs clenched around him, hips lifting into his mouth, desperate, chasing?—
“You’re close, Ketra,” Alarik murmured against her ear, his voice thick with restraint. “Let him take you there.”
His hands smoothed over her stomach, her ribs, before cupping her breast again, his thumbs brushing over one peak in time with Kaelen’s strokes. Her pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, winding deep inside her, until she was trembling—shaking—on the edge.
Kaelen must’ve sensed it, because his movements quickened, mouth slanting over her fully, fingers pressing deeper, curling over the spot that made her see stars.
The tension snapped and Reiya shattered, a cry ripping from her lips as pleasure rolled through her in waves, consuming, stealing the breath from her lungs.
She felt Alarik’s mouth at her temple, the slow, grounding slide of Kaelen’s hand over her thighs. But the other hand still worked her, wringing more pleasure from her with each thrust, lips still sealed over her nub.
When Kaelen finally lifted his head, his lips glistened with her slick. Golden eyes burned as he took her in—flushed, trembling, empty.
“She’s ready,” he murmured, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth.
Her breath was unsteady, skin flushed and tingling from their combined touch, but a new kind of anticipation coiled low in her belly as she met Alarik’s eyes.
She didn’t speak, didn’t need to. She simply lifted her arms, inviting him closer, welcoming him without hesitation.
Alarik rose, positioning himself above her, his warmth pressing into her as her hands found the waistband of his breeches.
She fumbled briefly, but he was already helping, shrugging off his jacket in one fluid motion.
Fabrics slipped through their fingers, pooling onto the furs, until nothing remained between them.
Her breath caught.
He was all sculpted muscle and quiet strength—broad shoulders tapering to a firm, lean waist, the planes of his chest dusted with faint scars that spoke of battles won and trials endured. His skin was hot beneath her palms, taut over powerful sinew—a body honed not for show but for purpose.
And lower, nestled at the apex of strong thighs, was proof of his arousal—heavy, thick, rigid.
The sight sent a pulse of heat through her, a visceral response she couldn’t contain.
Her fingers skimmed his abdomen, following the sharp cut of muscle that led downward, a silent exploration of this man who was always so controlled, unreadable.
But now, he shuddered beneath her touch, head thrown back, throat bobbing.
A vision of raw, unshakable masculinity.
And he was hers .
Her thighs parted for him without hesitation. Her skin flushed under his gaze, heat unfurling in the places his eyes lingered.
“I’ve wanted you,” she whispered. “Please . . . no more waiting.”
Her hand slid lower, curling around his thick length, testing the hard and hot feel of him before guiding him to her. The velvety tip teased her slick entrance, sending a shared tremor through them both.
The first nudge made her gasp, thighs parting wider in instinct. He dipped into her wetness, just enough to awaken that delicious ache, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Her body arched, hips shimmying forward, silently urging him deeper, while his breath grew heavier—each ragged puff a reminder of how close they were to crossing the threshold together.
His hands slid over the curve of her hips, grounding himself in her softness as he pressed against her entrance—teasing, coaxing her to let him in. He moved deliberately, pumping against her once, twice, three times, until the head of him finally entered her, stretching her .
She hissed her pleasure between clenched teeth, eyes shutting tight at the sensation of him breaching her for the first time.
“You’re so small,” Alarik rasped, voice rough with strain. He pushed deeper, groaning as her body resisted, then slowly yielded, drawing him in inch by inch.
Bracing herself on her elbows, she watched as he filled her—every ridge, every heated pulse. This was more than she’d imagined, an intimacy that stole her breath and left her trembling.
She fell back, the tension easing as she adjusted to him. She’d expected more discomfort, had braced for it—but it never came. Perhaps her years of riding had already taken care of that, or perhaps this was simply how it was meant to be.
Whatever the reason, all she felt now was him —thick, solid, filling her in a way that made her close her eyes and whimper.
Alarik began to move—a slow, deliberate rhythm as if he were mapping her body, learning every nuance of how she took him.
Her body welcomed him, wrapping around him as if moulded for this moment—tight, hot, trembling at the edge of control.
Each thrust ignited a delicious ache, melting into something sweeter, sharper.
Her hips met his instinctively, rolling to match his pace.
Every surge forward drove him further, until finally his hips met hers with a sharp, satisfying slap.
He was nestled deep inside her, so deep that she felt him just beneath her navel. Stars burst behind her eyes as she gasped, head falling back.
“Oh gods?—”
Alarik groaned. “She’s not in Heat yet,” he gasped, his voice thick with restraint. His head tipped back, throat working as he swallowed hard, breath uneven. A shudder rippled through him as his hips rocked against her. “But— fuck .”
The guttural curse that slipped from his lips, as though he couldn’t contain it, made her clench around him.
His movements slowed, his brow furrowing in concentration, sweat dripping down his forehead, as though his focus alone could draw out their shared pleasure .
Kaelen’s chuckle brushed her cheek, rough and teasing. “Can you take more, Sáel?”
There was more? She clenched at the thought, shaking her head instinctively, but her body betrayed her, weeping more around Alarik.
Kaelen’s long, graceful fingers slid down to her legs, guiding them gently to bend at the knees, opening her further. Alarik sank deeper with this change in angle, hitting a different spot, and her cry tore from her throat—a raw, primal sound.
Sweat beaded at her temples, trickling down to her neck and shoulders, mingling with Alarik’s as he loomed over her, hips never stopping. Their connection was carved into every moan, every rhythmic clap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of her body yielding to him, over and over.
Kaelen changed position, kneeling beside her, his gaze dark as his hand splayed over her belly, watching Alarik sink to the hilt. He growled low in his throat.
“You take him so deeply,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of her ear before he bit her lobe gently. “Good Omega. Imagine how full you’ll be when we’re both inside you.”
His words raced through her like wildfire. His voice—low, steady, thick with intent—was its own kind of seduction, winding tightly around the pleasure in her belly.
“Kaelen,” she rasped. “You’re always teasing me.”
His chuckle was rough, almost helpless, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I’m not teasing you, Brightheart. I’m torturing myself.”
Reiya dragged him down for a kiss, swallowing his groan as her fingers fumbled at his jacket.
She barely had time to grasp the fabric before Kaelen ripped it free, tossing it aside.
His shirt followed. Heat rolled off his bare skin, muscles flexing beneath her palms as she traced over his chest, the sharp ridges of his abdomen.
Alarik was still moving inside her, each thrust sending a ripple of pleasure through her body, and her touch on Kaelen grew erratic, desperate.
Her fingers dipped lower, feeling his hardness beneath his breeches.
He unlaced himself, pulling the fabric down.
Her first touch on his length had him groaning.
He was hot and hard beneath her touch, the weight of him heavy in her palm.
A sharp breath left him, his hips jerking involuntarily into her grasp as her fingers tightened around him.
Kaelen exhaled sharply, collapsing onto the furs beside her, his golden eyes heavy-lidded with need.
Her fingers still curled around him, feeling the contrast of him—silken heat over rigid flesh.
The way he twitched under her touch made her want to please him, tease him, drive him to his breaking point.
He was beautiful like this, sprawled beside her, undone by her hands alone.
Her fingers moved with newfound confidence, tracing along the thick ridge of him, mapping the sensitive spots that had him flexing his thighs beneath her touch.
He was hot, thick in her palm, and when she squeezed just slightly, his head fell back onto the furs, exposing the strong column of his throat.
Alarik bent lower. “See what you’ve done?” he rasped in her ear. “Make him fall apart for you, Omega.”
Kaelen let out a tortured chuckle, but there was no teasing in it—only surrender.
“She’s going to ruin me before I’m even inside her,” he said, his voice hoarse as Reiya stroked him, matching the rhythm of Alarik’s thrusts.
With a low growl, Alarik slipped his hand beneath her bottom, lifting her hips effortlessly. The new angle changed everything. His next thrust struck deep—right against that tender spot hidden inside her, near the door to her womb.
Reiya choked on a cry, spine arching off the furs.
Alarik didn’t stop, shifting again. One hand hooked her leg, guiding it over his shoulder. His thrusts sharpened, the stretch of him even more intense.
Reiya’s vision blurred, pleasure consuming her as he drove into her, each deep thrust sending her spiralling toward the edge.
His palm pressed against her lower belly, amplifying the sensation, while his thumb worked her swollen bud in perfect tandem—relentless, unyielding—until release coiled tight within her, ready to snap.
“I can’t fuck you enough,” Alarik growled, the rare roughness in his voice skittering down Reiya’s spine.
He was usually so quiet, steady—but the raw, unfiltered hunger in his crude words ignited her.
She clenched around him, a fresh rush of slick coating his length as he drove deeper. “It’s never going to be enough.”
Her breath hitched as he leaned forward, his weight pressing her down onto the furs.
The breadth of his body parted her legs wide, knees pushed back until they almost reached her breasts.
His larger body curled over hers, arms braced on either side, caging her like something precious and breakable—yet the way he claimed her was anything but gentle.
He dominated her senses. She released Kaelen to wrap her arms around Alarik’s shoulders, pulling him down to meet her lips.
His kiss was as demanding as his claiming, the taste of him rich and intoxicating.
She moaned softly beneath his mouth, gasping when his hips rolled forward, the tip of him nudging insistently against the tender wall of her womb.
He filled her completely.
And gods, he felt perfect .
She dragged her lips to his ear, whispering, “You’re perfect like this. You feel so good . . . so good, Alpha.”
He shuddered at the words. She felt it in the tension of his back, the way his next thrust faltered—just barely—as if the praise unsettled him, unexpected and new.
But then his pace returned, rough and deep, as though her words had unlocked something he’d kept buried.
And so she gave him more.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed, her lips skimming his jaw. “You’re filling me so perfectly,” she murmured, more brazen now, emboldened by the way he trembled above her. “Every part of me . . . gods, Alpha. You were made for me.”
And the sound he made in response—low, raw, almost broken—told her she’d utterly undone him. His rhythm faltered as they moved together—hard, punishing strokes sending waves through her core, pushing her higher with each savage thrust.
But this wasn’t just physical. It was deeper—something stretching far beyond pleasure. Each movement felt like a thread weaving them closer, binding their souls as much as their bodies.
And with every shared gasp, every stolen kiss, they whispered it to each other—over and over—inside the warmth of their nest.