Page 129 of The Rust in Her Hair

Desperate to feel all of her, I shove the hem of her dress all the way up to her waist, baring the flimsy scrap of cotton between me and what I want.

Her legs lock around my waist, her ankles crossing at the small of my back, and she pulls me in tight. The hot, wet fabric of her panties presses against my bare stomach. She's soaked, covering me in her slick, and the thought of it, of her scent marking my skin, makes my hips jerk forward.

"Adrian." She whines my name and pulls hard at my hair. "Please."

Something primal roars up in me at the sound of her begging. My whole body goes tight with the need to claim her and a growl rumbles out of me before I can stop it.

Keeping her pinned in place with my hips, I grip the side of her underwear and rip. The delicate fabric tears with a sound that goes straight to my cock.

Then I pull down the front of my sweats, and grip my shaft. I notch the head against her. She's soaked, hot and swollen, and so incredibly open for me.

"Lyra," I whisper, looking deep into her eyes.

She looks so wild, her chestnut hair a tangled halo around her face, her lips swollen and wet, her tits bared. She cups my face, her thumbs stroking my cheeks.

"Stop holding back." The desperate snarl rips out of the omega, her need pouring off her thick enough to taste. "I can feel you doing it. Stop."

And that’s all it takes.

I push in.

The sensation is indescribable.

Her pussy is a slick, hot fist, gripping me, clenching around the head of my cock in a series of tight, fluttering pulses that feel like a heartbeat. It's a perfect, searing heat that promises to undo me completely, and for a second, I'm terrified of how amazing it feels.

It's right, right in a way I have no word for, like every restless thing in me has been reaching toward this moment. My body knows her. I knew her the second I scented her in that library, and now that I'm buried in her it's screaming the same thing over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Go slow, I remind myself. Savor her. But it’s near impossible.

Because all I want to do is fuck her into the damn wall. I want to pound her until she's screaming my name, and she's so full of my cum she can't walk straight.

My hips move. Slow at first, long deep strokes, watching her face come apart on every one. I want to remember all of it, the flush crawling up her chest, the way her mouth falls open, the little catch in her breath each time I bottom out.

"That stretch," Lyra moans, her head falling back against the wall. "God, Adrian, it's incredible." She reaches up, her fingers pinching her own nipples, rolling them as she writhes against me. "Please," she begs. "Fuck me."

And the last of my control shatters.

I'm nothing but instinct and need, a feral beast driven to claim and fuck.

This is what the pull to her has been doing to me for weeks, this thing I kept calling protectiveness because I was too scared to call it what it is. She's mine. Fate stitched her to me and I'm done fighting it.

Desperate to feel her beneath me, I get an arm under Lyra’s ass and carry her to the bed. I take us both down to the pile of clothes on the mattress. She lands softly on the heap of flannel and denim, her eyes dazed and her hair fanning out around her beautiful face.

I need more of her. I need to be deeper. Harder.

Mine!

"Lift." I slap her ass gently and my perfect omega obeys, tipping herself up for me.

I push a hand between her shoulder blades and press her down until her cheek meets the pile, pinning her there against one of Mack's shirts, her ass raised and her spine bowed sweetly.

"Adrian," Lyra whimpers. "What are you⁠—"

I lean down and drag my tongue up her pussy, from her soaked entrance to the tight pucker of her asshole, making my girl gasp.

She's wet enough to drip, and the taste of her floods my mouth, warm and heavy and sweet, sugar and salt and something that goes straight to my head.

I've smelled her in this house for weeks, that vanilla and toasted almond soaked into every blanket in the house, and she tastes the way she smells. Sweeter. Richer. All mine. I could stay down here and lick her until she sobs.