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Chapter 20
Zephyr
Shehungonas he took her through the crowd to somewhere at the back of the warehouse, her body jostling on his wide shoulder, her thighs sticky with the blood on his chest, her free breasts hanging down and almost threatening to pop out of her neckline due to gravity.
There were whoops and catcalls and filthy suggestions shouted as he just walked with purpose, his hand on her ass in a way that screamed proprietary.
A door opened and shut, and then she was upright and sitting on a table in some kind of locker room, and before she could process anything else, his hand was wrapped around her hair, tugging her head back, his body flush against her, the blood of his dead opponent smearing on her chest from his, the large bulge in his shorts pressing into her pussy.
“You wanted the beast,” he growled against her lips. “Here he fucking is.”
His mouth slashed in an angry kiss on hers—deep, dark, decadent. It was carnal, consuming, claiming, singeing her from the roots of her scalp where he pulled to the tips of her curling toes. It was what she imagined a Neanderthal would’ve given to his woman after hunting down a bear, what a pirate would’ve given to the maiden after taking over her ship, what a warlord would’ve given to his mistress after slaying his dragons.
It was a kiss of claim, of power, of hunger, one to make the blood simmer and head spin, and she fell into the spiral with his tongue in her mouth. His mouth stayed on hers, his free hand grabbing her breast and squeezing it painfully. Her mouth opened on a gasp and he pulled back, watching her with that golden eye, his face darker, harder, hotter than ever before.
His hand loosened on her breast, their gazes locked, and he slapped her nipple.
A yelp escaped her.
“Louder,” he commanded, slapping her other breast with his large palm, right on the nipple, and fuck if heat didn’t flare out from the points to pool low in her belly, her thighs squeezing his waist in. It was the first time he was doing something like this, and god she wanted him even more. She leaned closer, wanting his mouth again, but he evaded. His fingers pulled her over-sensitized nipple harshly, before giving it another smack. “Louder.”
She moaned, her eyes closing as the heaviness in her breasts increased with the blood, her nipples turgid with the sensations.
He wrapped his fist in another loop of her hair and pulled her head back, inhaling the line of her neck, his lips stopping at her ear. “Did you like that outside?”
“Yes,” she breathed as his fingers plucked at her rigid nipple, squeezing it over and over again, making her hips move rhythmically against his erection, chasing the pleasure he promised.
“You want the beast, my little slut?” his deep voice in her ear had her panting, his words tugging something dirty free out of her. God yes, she wanted to be the most shameless for him, wanted him to do whatever he desired to her.
“Yes.” She tried to move more to no avail. He’d immobilized her, and that just pushed her arousal through the roof, knowing she was completely at his mercy as he did whatever he wanted to her in there.
He pressed his bulge right into her clit over their clothes, pulling her hair and nipple at the same time, biting her earlobe, the blood and sweat on his body covering hers, and her jaw trembled, her pleasure peaking. She was going to come if he didn’t stop. She didn’t know if it was the baser instincts reacting to the blood and his pheromones, or just the fact that she’d gone without any pleasure for a week after he’d made her come daily, or just the very possessive nature of his claim. But as he tugged and slapped and twisted her nipples, grinding his hard length against her over and over, right over her clit, Zephyr felt the beginnings of her orgasm, pleasure coasting through her blood, her head falling back, everything from his hand in her hair to his fingers on her breasts to his mouth on her neck to his cock against her clit hypersensitizing her body to the point she couldn't take the barrage of sensations anymore.
With a loud noise, something between a moan and a scream, she shattered in his arms.
“Look at you soaking me.” He pointed out the very obvious wetness between her legs, her body lubricating itself in hopes that he would ravage it.
“You sat out there, fucking naked under this, and let another man breathe your air,” he whispered softly, dangerously into her neck. “Next time, it’ll be his blood on your skin when I’ll fuck you so raw you wouldn’t be able to move for weeks. Get on your knees.”
She swallowed, her heart crashing against her ribs, her mind reeling as she dropped down, his hand in her hair keeping her still. He pushed down his shorts, exposing himself to her like that for the first time, and Zephyr’s breath hitched. She’d always felt him from behind or over clothes, and knew he was well-endowed, but seeing it made her realize just how well-endowed. He could very well fuck her raw and make her feel it for weeks.
She leaned forward to take him in her mouth, wanting to taste him for the first time, but he held her in place with one hand, jerking off with the other, watching her. His large hand moved up and down his shaft, his cock aimed at her breasts. She pressed them together, deepening her cleavage, and tugged down her top, exposing them to him, her nipples hard and sore from his rough fingers.
He groaned at the sight, his head falling back, veins popping on his forearm adjacent to his scar and on his neck as he came, ropes of his warm seed hitting her chest.
Zephyr breathed harder as he finished. She didn’t get to finish him as she’d wanted but she didn’t mind, not at seeing him come undone like that.
He let go of her hair and went to one of the lockers in the room, throwing her a towel to clean up. Zephyr got to her feet, her legs shaky, her knees aching, and wiped the fluids off her chest the best she could, adjusting her top as she looked at him standing a few feet away, back to his cool, composed self.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
He was putting distance between them, again.
Her lips pursed, the anger, the hurt, the longing coming back.
“You didn’t come back.”
He hadn’t. Not for days. Not for weeks. Not for years. She’d waited.
