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I land on my ass so it doesn’t hurt, but I glance up all the same, question wobbling on my lip.
Rafe has never been so rough with me before, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Did I do something wrong?
Was I being too needy? Or not submissive enough?
We rarely brought designation into the bedroom, aside from calling each other Alpha and Omega when it seemed right. Rafe wasn’t a stickler about things like that.
So why the hell was I on the floor?
All kinds of things I’m not usually self-conscious about bubble up within me.
I cross my arms over my lopsided nipples and dare to glance up at him. Dare to find the reason for this rejection on his face.
All my worries evaporate. My body relaxes as I take in the pure, feral frenzy in Rafe’s eyes.
In seconds, he closes the distance between us and rips my jeans clean off. My eyes flutter closed as Rafe grabs me by the hips, flips me over, and positions me on all fours so I’m ass up.
Another flood of slick rushes from me, soaking my panties and trailing down my thighs.
I cast a quick glance at Jonah. He’s fanning himself, expression slack as he takes in my body. “Fuck, Willa. He wants to claim you properly.”
Yeah. I’d figured that part out on my own.
My thighs shake with anticipation, scent-addled brain ruminating on just how fucking big this is.
A “proper” claiming isn’t a practice most wolves partake in. The majority of us don’t care about the old tradition, content with the bond that snaps into place all on its own.
Given my issues, I’d never considered the possibility that I’d ever be able to…
“Can’t say I blame him with all the perfume you’re throwing off.” Jonah takes a big whiff of caramel-and-coffee-scented air and lets it out slowly, like he’s savoring it. “Christ, your scent has me skirting the line into a frenzy, Willa.”
A warning growl cracks through the air, and Jonah falls silent. Rafe has made himself perfectly clear. He’s the only one allowed to frenzy tonight.
The metallic jingle of Rafe’s belt and the slow hiss of his zipper echos in my brain, bouncing off that desperate, needy, pure omega part of me and sending another pussy-quaking shiver through me.
More slick.
“Mine.” Rafe’s voice is pure greed.
And that’s just fine by me. I let him know with a sweet little whimper and arch my ass up even higher.
He lets out a low groan, and it draws a perfect image in my mind of the hunger slashed across his gorgeous face. Rafe lets out a growl as he tears my already ruined underwear away, anchors a hand on the swell of my hip, and plunges deep into me.
I shriek with the sudden sensation of his cock filling me. The tight stretch and fullness, his knot at my opening, pressing against my clit.
No preamble. No teasing or prolonged foreplay. I didn’t need it, but more than that…
A traditional claiming is all about giving in to the need, whatever it asks of you.
It’s different from a heat, different from the frenzy that my heat beckons in Rafe and Jonah… the claiming is…
Primal. It’s instinct.
Rafe’s hot, ragged breath dances across my back as he stays within me, unmoving for a few moments before curving his body over mine and bracing his palms on the floor beside mine.
His lips press against my ear. “Tell me you want my knot, Willa.”
