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When I wake again, it’s to Breccan on top of me. My first thought is, Damn, he sure takes this breeding thing seriously.
My second is that I don’t want to be paralyzed again.
He’s somehow stripped me without waking me. I’m naked atop his bed, my arms bound by one of his clawed hands above my head. My legs are pinned nearly to my chest and slung over his shoulders, his thick cock rubbing against my clit. Fear has me frozen from the inside out much like the effects of the toxica—the only thing it doesn’t block out is how fucking good it feels.
Don’t think about it, Aria.
Be strong.
Stop rocking your hips in tandem with him.
But I can’t help but think about the way his cock slides against my sensitive clit. My sole focus is on the expert way he makes my body thrum to life. His rubbing feels too good.
I want him inside me. I want him to stop teasing me and push into me. The thought that I’m craving this monster like a hit of flora is enough to have me questioning my sanity.
Be strong.
An embarrassing, needy moan rumbles from me. This pleases him because he smiles at me. So much for being strong.
“There you are, my little Aria. Come back to me. Does that feel good?”
So good.
“No,” I lie, my voice breathy.
A chuckle rumbles from him as he works his hips in a circular way. My body shudders in response as zings of pleasure pulsate from my core to every nerve ending in my body. It’s maddening being with him. I work so hard to mentally convince myself what a bad idea this is but I’ve never felt so alive. He feels good. Too good. It’s hard to hate him when he’s making me lose my mind as he draws out an orgasm.
Stars glitter around me as I climax. I’m still trembling, overcome with bliss, when he pushes slowly into me. Stretching and filling me to the brink. It heightens the orgasm that’s still thrumming through me and I moan in relief at having him fully inside me.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
My core tightens with the need to come again.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
Oh, God.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice fierce. “You feel so rekking good. I meant to wait until after I rested, but you clearly missed me too much while I was gone. Your display of your displeasure was thoroughly received. I plan to breed with you tonight for hours to make it up to you.”
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
He groans when his orgasm rushes from him and into my body. His cock throbs out every venomous drop. No longer needing to hold my arms, thanks to the paralytic effect of his semen, he takes advantage and his claws begin to trace every available inch of my skin. The heavy-lidded look he’s giving me infuriates me and I could slap him for making me enjoy this, but I’ll have to make do with giving him a death glare.
The slow stroking goes on until he’s nearly soft—if you could call it that—and can barely stay inside any longer. He doesn’t seem in any hurry to get off me, though, and all I can do is wait it out. Avrell said it would be less and less each time, but now I’m starting to wonder if that was just a line of bullshit they fed me to keep me from freaking out even more.
Wisely, I don’t think about what Breccan means by breeding for hours.
When he’s done, he runs a hand over his cock to gather the semen dripping from the tip. With his eyes on mine, he carefully rubs at my folds, then presses his slick fingers inside me.
I throw my head back against the bed, the toxica relenting enough for me to moan aloud. Even though I know the why’s, even though I know it shouldn’t, it still sends shockwaves throughout me.
Breccan’s eyes take on a satisfied glint. “Take every last drop, mortania. As soon as you’re feeling better, I’ve got something to show you. I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it.”
While I lie frozen on the bed, Breccan dresses and then moves around the room cleaning up the mess I’d made without a negative word. Once he’s done, he wets a small towel and approaches me. He’s gentle and caring as he cleanses me between my thighs, his black eyes intense and on mine. I try to ignore the stirrings in my chest. The happy way in which he takes care of me is confusing. My gut instinct is to hate him but he makes it too hard, especially when he is being so sweet. His hands are reverent as he strokes my flat stomach and the crack in my chest seems to grow wider. Pride and hope glimmer in his stare. There’s nothing intimidating or infuriating about him now. Not in this moment. Right now, he’s beautiful and regarding me as though I’m his whole world. I’ve never been anyone’s entire world. With a sigh of regret, he finally leaves me to find me something to wear. Even as he dresses me, he does it with careful consideration as though he doesn’t want to hurt me.
