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He is huge.

I could feel it before, when we were kissing, when his mouth was on my neck. I could feel his hard member rubbing against the inside of my thigh, and I’d started making calculations in the back of my mind—would that thing even fit inside me?

But omegas have special anatomy. We’re made for this.

So, when he pushes inside me, it’s not painful. My body adjusts, stretching for him, the feeling like when you first wake up in the morning and put your arms over your head, back popping satisfyingly.

Being with Augustus makes my body feel loose, limber. Every ounce of tightness in my muscles from before is completely gone.

We fit together.

And when my body is done adjusting, when he’s fully seated inside me, I look up to find him staring down at me. A single gold chain hangs around his neck, swinging slightly. There are beads of sweat on his chest, but whether that’s from the exertion or from being so close to my furnace of a body, I’m not sure.

“Mylah,” he rasps, his voice an approximation of its usual calm, smooth composure. “I don’t know if I—if I—”

My king.

This strong, sure man, barely able to get his words out when he’s inside me. It sends a pleasure I can’t describe spiraling through my body.

This is me. I’m the one doing this to him. I’m the one he can’t resist.

Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his chest and pull him down, so his bare skin presses against the fabric of my nightgown. Goddesses, I wish I’d thought to take the damn thing off. It’s hot, and it’s keeping us from being fully connected.

But it stays trapped between us as I say, “I can take it, Augustus. Let yourself go.”

He snaps his head up, meeting my gaze, his eyes tiny black holes. On either side of my head, his arms shake. It must be from trying to restrain himself.

But I’ve waited this long. I don’t want him to hold back.

After studying my face for several long moments, he seems convinced that I’m telling the truth. Collapsing down onto his elbows, he growls against my ear and takes me.

I hold onto him tightly. The bed—constructed of solid dark wood—rocks gently at the force of his movements. Augustus widens his knees between my legs to push them open wider, tips his hips, and drives himself inside me so far I feel the stretch of it in the bottom of my throat.

It’s indescribable.

It’s perfect.

It’s like coming home. Like stepping into a hot bath. Having the best dream of your life.

It’s finally, finally getting the thing you have wanted for years, after not even fully understanding what that thing was. Like having a missing piece of myself returned to me in the form of him.

And I can’t help it—the sounds of my relief and ecstasy come pouring out of me. I know it’s loud; it’s too much. There are guards posted right outside the door, and surely, they can hear. But when I clap a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, Augustus grabs it, and my other, pinning them above my head and fixing his gaze on me.

“Don’t.” He commands, even as he pulls out and drives into me again, our hips coming flush. “I want to hear you, Mylah.”

I open my mouth to respond to that—maybe to remind him of the guards or tell him that I’m scared of what might come out—but a scream rips from me instead when he increases his speed, pushing deeper, harder, a finger on a bruise, the pleasure so impossible it’s nearing pain.

A second orgasm washes over me like I’m a shell on the beach, sinking further and further into the sand, buried in pleasure.

“I want to bite you,” he growls, and my skin prickles with goosebumps at the sound of the request. There are many shifters who bite during sex, especially between mates, but the Kault packs have never really upheld the tradition.

Now, Augustus stares down at me like he would swallow me whole if he could.

I stare right back up at him, then reach up and take the neckline of the nightgown in my hand, drawing it down and under my breast.

“Fucking hells,” he mutters, lowering his mouth to the softest part of my inner breast, his teeth gaining purchase. This time, when he drives into me, I can feel him growing further inside me.

I might be a virgin, but I’m not an idiot.