This thought rings with truth, as do the darker ones that follow. How I want to wreck this creature beneath me.
Not break her.
Unmake her in pleasure. Claim her in ways that leave no room for doubt. Give her so much of me she’ll never again deny what stands between us. Brand myself into her memory so deeply, she hungers only for my return.
I make a mess of my meal, of my shewolf, my mate. I lick her essence from her clit and core, and drive my fingers, two, deep inside her. Her sigil-covered body is a work of art, moving like deep waves in a turbulent storm. She’s half risen and kissing Orán’s chest as he kisses her neck, leaving traces of his scent behind.
Her eyes are dilated but heady with want, as I’m sure mine are. A mirror image.
The hedonism. The carnality. The opportunity to indulge in what, for so long, I’ve abstained from. It all now stretches before me like a feast laid on an altar.
Her body will be the only temple I kneel before, worship at, and conquer in the name of, from this day forward. Another truth that resonates inside me even as they trade places above me, Orán paying homage to her beautiful breasts as she stares at me from behind him and kisses his neck.
She is decadence—divine in her own right. Her star birthmark seems like a proclamation of what I already know. She is an unknown goddess who’s just been born into this life, and I’ve been sent not only to protect her but also to have a singular claim over her.
She is mine—soul shared, yes—but mine.
Her body. Her heart. Her heat, and in time, her love as well, will belong to me.
This goes beyond sense. Beyond the desire to taste her flesh.
I crave her beyond reason. Her mouth on mine and her scent woven into my lungs, even every little sound she makes as they etch into memory. But instinct also demands that I feel her writhe beneath me and bury myself so deep inside her that there can be no doubt which man she truly belongs to—a primal urge that overrides every other feeling—to place a claim on her that no other can hold.
I only hope that after satisfying this hunger, the beast raging inside me will be sated for a time, long enough to give me a chance to mark her properly.
I don’t wish to harm her in any way, and I fear letting him free will have me breaking my recent vow.
It’s the mate bond.
The part of her I will not share with Orán. I am and will retain the claim over something he does not. As if a small piece of her was reserved for me and me alone.
I thank God for that special blessing, even as I stare up at her and flutter my tongue over her clit.
I keep pumping my fingers until she’s stretched enough to take me. Each time I rub that tender spot deep inside her, she cries out and writhes on the bed as if aching for more. Not only am I preparing her for my size, but I am showing her a truth her Order spent a lifetime trying to bury—showing her our bodies were made for exactly this.
Taking pleasure and receiving it.
That is why we work like a lock and a key. This too is part of God’s design. Pleasure was never meant to be feared. It is woven into us as surely as hunger, grief, and love, whether men wish to admit it or not.
There is no sin here.
Only desire. Curiosity. Connection.
Deep down, she is wanton and yearns to be taken in ways that test limits and cross the boundaries of what her training deemed good and evil.
I wholeheartedly want to be the one who helps her demolish those antiquated beliefs and tear down those walls.
Because here, there are no absolutes.
Only discovery.
A future spent learning one another piece by piece, uncovering every hidden corner of who we are and who we might become together.
Our bodies are merely instruments for seeking this deeper understanding. And in this, I will deny her nothing.
I will revel in being her guide through the pleasures of the flesh—in teaching her all the ways in which her body can succumb and unravel.
So showing her how good I can make her feel is vital because I plan to be between these thighs as often as possible and without repentance to cement my place as her soul-bonded.
