“Fuck!” I blurt at the short sting, but my ass is pushing back to meet him. The angle is different than last night—deeper reach, the stretch sharper. He’s still huge, splitting me open, the burnriding right at the edge of too much. I feel every inch as he fills me, the way my body gives around him.
His arm locks across my chest again, pinning me back against him. His free hand stays between my legs, still working my clit in the same steady circles. I rest my palm against my lower belly, fascinated by the fact that I can feel him there. Each thrust pushes under my hand, the pressure inside pressing outward so I can track exactly how deep he goes, how thick he feels moving there.
“You like that, sweetheart?” His voice is low in my ear.
I nod quickly. “Yes! God, yes!”
The pace stays measured at first. I learn it, the way he impales me and still lets me push back. I do. He meets it. The sounds coming out of him drop lower, rougher, the bear closer now.
I come the first time with his fingers on my clit and his cock driving in. It hits hard. My pussy clamps down, pulsing around him. He doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting, keeps circling, holds me pinned with that arm across my chest until the aftershocks roll straight into the next climb.
“I like it when you come for me,” he rumbles into my ear, sending a shiver through me.
“Good. Because…because I’m doing it again.” I’m gasping. The second one builds faster. My body feels loose and buzzing at once, every nerve lit but heavy. He lets me ride through it, still thrusting deep, still rubbing that tight spot above my entrance. It’s getting to the point where it’s almost too much until he changes the angle and drives directly against that spot that sets me off again.
“Oh! Oh, sweet Jesus!” I’m practically sobbing now. The wave that builds this time comes from deep in the pit of my belly. I come again, harder this time, if that’s even possible.
He doesn’t let me drop. Keeps the rhythm just enough to hold me on the edge, each deep thrust sparking another small firethat doesn’t quite die. I’m limp against him, head tipped back on his shoulder, but my pussy keeps clenching every time he bottoms out. The sensation stays right there, hovering.
“Mmmm…” he rumbles against the back of my neck, his breath fluttering my hair, his mouth opening against my skin, and for a moment, it feels like he’s going to grip me with his teeth to hold me steady. The thought makes me quiver.
“Fuck. So good…” he rasps. I feel him getting close. His thrusts shorten, rhythm stutters once. He starts to pull back, about to pull out. I reach back, grip his hip.
“Stay in. You can come inside me.” My voice comes out rough. “My line only conceives with our own kind.”
He grunts, low and animal. Rams forward hard, the deep, blunt pressure unmistakable against the end of my channel.
Fuck, he’s huge.
My eyes are watering, but it’s a pain that’s too close to pleasure to make me want to stop him.
“Grace,” he growls, and then stiffens and thrusts deep, gripping me so tightly I can barely draw air. He pulses there, thick spurts flooding hot inside me, filling me until it feels too much. The sensation tips me again. My inner walls milk him in tight, rhythmic pulls, dragging more out of him.
We stay locked like that, breathing ragged, until the pulses fade. His forehead rests against the back of my neck. My hand stays on my belly, feeling the faint throb where he still sits inside.
He pulls out slow. Cum gushes after him, warm and slick down my thighs. It’s hard to believe there’s so much of it, but then I guess bears are built that way. His hand cups my mound, scoops up the stickiness, and rubs it into the skin there—slow, deliberate strokes that spread it over my lower belly and the inside of my thighs. The motion feels oddly right, possessivewithout being overbearing. I watch his fingers move, shiny with both of us.
“You good, sweetheart?” he asks, and I nod, trying to find my voice. His mouth grazes the back of my neck again. Teeth or lips, I can’t tell. A shudder runs through me. Then his mouth settles, just lips, pressing once. A kiss that’s gentle enough to make my throat tighten. He draws back and gathers me against his chest, arm still around me, heartbeat steady under my ear.
“I like this,” I murmur, not quite sure what I’m referring to. The hot sex? The sense of being protected? After the months in the Syndicate facility, touch is something I’ve grown suspicious of. But not with him. With him, it feels… right.
“Mmmm…” he murmurs, the sound reverberating deep in his torso. And I like that too. There’s a depth to his sounds that echoes the rest of him, big, strong, unyielding. Yet gentle. I take his hand and press it up against my cheek, and he doesn’t withdraw it. His thumb brushes over my lips, and I press a small kiss to the pad of it.
The quiet holds. His chest rises and falls at my back, unhurried.
“You said your line is different,” he eventually says. “Earlier. When you told me to…”
“To come inside me?” My lips curl against his chest.
“Yes,” he says. “You only conceive with your own kind. What is your kind?”
“The Sangrey line,” I say. “We’re wolf and witch, not magic-blood.” I pause.
“So your blood is different.”
“Yes.” I nod. “It’s why only some lines are compatible.” I feel his breathing against my shoulder, steady, listening. “I guess you could say that we’re rare.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t push.
