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I flip my mate onto her back and drag her ankles to her ears, driving so deep, my molars groan.
Her hair snakes across the sheets like threads of gold. Blood stains her lips, dark and beautiful.
My fierce mate.
Love, trust, and ball-clenching excitement sing through our bond.
I press her mound until I feel my cock, buried deep inside. “I’ll fuck you until you can take all four.”
Jin ruts like a centaur. His bed-shaking thrusts rattle the ball at the back of my throat.
Pah, pah, pah!
I come mewling.
Then shaking.
Wordlessly moaning.
Stretched and deeply, deeply filled.
He pumps and grinds, not just hammering, but working his hips, biting my nipples and stroking my clit, finding every spot that bows my spine.
But the kiss of death?
The mate bond.
I wasn’t ready.
I’ll never be ready.
My orgasms pulse with the joy of Jin’s pleasure.
So freaking pleased with himself.
Every time he fills me, easing the rabid heat, he purrs to stretch my release, melting me into a puddle of lemon cream.
I buck and writhe and scream, savaging his skin and loving how Jin loves when I leave my marks in blood.
I can’t stop glowing.
Su-Jin Meadows is mine.
And the world is ours as he pumps me to my hundredth keening orgasm. My thighs shake and my pussy tremors, clamping his knot and sucking him to a deep, velvety moan. Dick twitching inside me, Jin falls on my body, purring and licking my sluggish-bleeding throat.
When he’s finally spent, Jin curls around me so possessively my heart throbs. He’s so strong and lean, I want to scoop him out and wear him like a shell, but I’m on a heat timer.
As soon as Jin’s knot starts to ease, my belly clenches, hyperaware of the unclaimed alphas with pheromones screaming to meet my need.
Reese strokes his cock at the edge of the bed. Bish reclines, arms behind his head, while Dutch has both hands full, double-fisting their cocks.
My pussy quivers.
Next!
Gently, gratefully, my body releases Jin. I’m so full, it’s like popping a cork. But before a drop of slick or seed escapes, Jin palms between my legs.
“Mine.” His iron grip curls my toes as hard as the shredded softness of his voice. “Marisol.”
