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His room’s walls were already scored by my talons, marks that would serve as a reminder of all that happened between us in his room.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he purred, already helping me to turn.
Smirking, I shifted to my hands and knees, gazing upon the scored walls with no shame. His weight came over my back, fresh slick dripping down my thigh.
I had needed fluids, the sloshing contents of my belly a hanging reminder that he knew how to see to my needs.
But tender care was not what I needed when it came to my breeding. He knew that too.
Cock sharp and straight as an arrow, he forced himself through my internal banded resistance in one hard thrust. Each tight ring of muscle he proudly fought through, abused over the days, were now loosened enough for him to slap his hips against my ass, fully seated.
Rocked forward by the violence of his entrance, I braced one clawed hand against the wall, pained, pleasured, my muscles milking his cock for dear life and already begging for more.
Hand in my tangled hair, he yanked me back, curving my spine so I might present fully. Then he fucked me ruthlessly.
The jolt of his body hitting mine loosened my jaw, where I panted and scrambled for purchase under the onslaught.
My breasts swung, my belly clenched to hold my bloated stomach tight.
It was more than his brutal thrusts. His cock was doubling over on itself within me, stretching and expanding like a burrowing animal in my guts. He was making himself absolutely huge, a slithering, fluid-spewing, swollen weapon so close to scratching my itch.
I begged for mercy.
I cried and clawed and needed him to do anything but stop.
Yet, somehow in those battering thrusts, I found peace in our savagery. I found softening through vicious force. The sound of his grunts were music to my hearts. The rage of his roars when I tried to pull away—proof he would never let me go.
Sobbing when I felt something inside me finally give, a raging, violent release vibrated through my nerves. Internally, I choked down around him and knew I must belong to that vicious man until the day I died.
Even flawed as he was.
Having reached the part of me that finally gave way, he set his growing knot deep to hold me open while he painted my insides with exactly what I craved.
Relishing his roar, I knew pure light. It washed through me body and soul, bringing me to an orgasm bigger than my body, bigger than even his love for me, pounding me with sensations too massive to survive.
Amassing indescribable pleasure built into one huge burst.
Our work was done.
My body had been conquered and given what it needed to nurture new life.
And nothing—no pleasure, nor touch, nor catastrophe—could possibly keep me awake.
I fell from heaven straight into dreamless sleep.
The next I woke, I was pregnant.
A very happy male was lying beside me, smiling at me in the dark as he green eyes glittered.
“You are flawless, my beautiful, little Lorieyn.” His voice was like velvet, soft music that soothed me as I nestled closer. Where I was held in his arms, the male now gentle and at peace.
20
I awoke ravenous to a man who had already prepared food for me. While I slept, he cooked, tidied the space of his small apartment, and somehow changed the bedding of my nest.
Shy as I ate his delicious food, sore yet satiated, enjoying warm silence in his attentive presence. Happy to let him fuss over my healing marks.
To enjoy the way he bathed each negligible wound, with a gentle touch and scented, steaming water.
