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One would think cumming would calm him, but it added fuel to his fire. Now, he was insatiable, and he was craving what was his.
HIS MATE.
This was his woman, and she was carrying his child. That made him all caveman-y, to the point he wanted to mark her forever.
And yet, he’d not be able to protect them from his wife. He’d not be able to protect himself from her mental illness.
He bit her neck.
She moaned.
His hands held her in place, forcefully leaving red marks on her hips.
He couldn’t help himself.
He wanted her.
“My turn,” he said, sliding down her body to the junction between her thighs. There, he found what he craved.
And took.
He dove in, pillaging and stealing all he could from her. Oh, he was definitely no stranger to fucking.
It was one of the things he was good at.
And that only made losing her harder. They connected in bed on some deep level. Now, there was no connection.
There never would be again.
With Storm, he had perfected it.
When she held on, burying her hands in the silky strands of his hair, she was in nirvana.
Her body bowed.
Her back arched.
He worked her clit like a starving man, his hand, the whole time, placed gently over her belly.
It was the two sides of Gamble.
The flip of the coin.
On one side, he was wild and wicked. He was known for his risks and danger.
On the other side, he was protective of what was his, and in his life, there had only been two things he owned.
His job.
His relationship with Storm.
Just devouring her made him wild and horny all over again. He could cum a million more times, and it would never be enough.
Ever.
On that, he was right.
It wouldn’t be enough to get him through each day and night of living without her and his child.
