Page 49

“I won’t be denying you tonight.” He was definitely smirking. She could feel the slight curve of his lips.

“But what about—” she pressed before he cut her off again.

“I won’t be denying you ever again.”

She slitted her eyes at him as he eased back just far enough to examine her face.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?” she asked suspiciously.

“Of course I’m lying.” His hand slipped to her neck, his hips pressing between her thighs, his cock pulsing as he ground it against her, drawing a strangled gasp from her lips.

“But …” He gently kissed her, so lightly she almost doubted it had happened.

“What I meant was I won’t be denying us anymore. You and me.”

“And them.”

“And them,” he agreed, warmth and happiness buzzing between them before he somehow managed to switch it off.

His grip tightened on her neck, his fingers flexing with restrained strength.

“But they don’t exist right now.” He dug his teeth into her lower lip, tugging slightly, but he eased it before she could react, his lips coaxing hers into a dizzying kiss.

He dug his tongue into her mouth as he ground himself between her legs, somehow managing to slide right against her sensitive nerves until she was reduced to a creature beneath him, writhing and arching and desperately trembling between his braced arms, pinned to the table by his weight and his cock, the slow press of friction driving her insane.

He pulled back just as she was building up to an orgasm, and her cry of betrayal was husky and full of shock. She slid up to her elbows as he stood between her bent legs, panting and wild-eyed.

His voice was low and rough as he spoke. “Show me what’s mine.”

Her body was on fire, aching for him, the air between them so charged, she couldn’t tell anymore if it was his power, full of electricity and force, or if it was their connection buzzing over her skin.

She could feel all of him, his breath, his weight, and the tension in his body wound so tightly that it almost seemed like his hands were trembling.

She eased back onto the desk, untying her robe and pulling it open. His eyes darkened with something deeper than just desire. There was a momentary pause as she shrugged her arms out of the robe and lay there, playing with the hem of her silken top. There was an unspoken understanding between them.

This was a claiming .

When he reached out and caught her wrist, gently pushing her fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts, his touch felt like a ragged plea.

The weight of his need hung in the air, pressing her against the table as she teased a finger between her folds, both of them groaning softly.

She could feel the vulnerability in him, the crack in his usual sternness, and something inside her shifted.

This was what she wanted. All of him. The Mikel he had tucked away so thoroughly, he didn’t even know how to show it to people anymore.

He pressed her thighs back to the table with a harsh exhale, the strain of her muscles somehow steadying her, grounding her as she tried not to lose herself in all the pleasure building up inside her.

“Fingers inside,” he demanded, his voice rough but with an undercurrent of something more fragile. “I need you messy because this isn’t going to be gentle. I can’t. Not right now.”

Her chest rose and fell quickly, his hands flexing on the soft skin of her inner thighs as she tunnelled her fingers into herself.

He didn’t shift his hands until she was right at the edge, hovering there for barely a breath before he yanked her fingers roughly from her shorts.

Something hot and untethered reared up inside her.

“I swear to—” She fought against his hold, her body flushed and desperate, but he cut her off with a harsh kiss, ripping at her pyjama shorts, the satin like tissue paper to his fingers. As soon as he lifted his mouth from hers, she swore at him colourfully. “You promised you wouldn’t?—”

“Deny us,” he reminded her. “I lied about the other thing.”

“The other thing wants to get off now,” she growled out weakly.

With a strong, controlled motion, he pulled her hips right to the edge of the table and swept her torn shorts and panties down her legs, tossing the articles onto his chair.

There was something deliberate about the way he moved now, a calculated tenderness that made her shiver and clench in anticipation.

He brushed his fingers beneath her top, gently pulling it up her body and over her head as his eyes burned, the soft brush of his fingers building a different kind of fire.

This one was slow, steady, and consuming.

His warning that he wouldn’t be gentle curved around her, prickling her skin with forewarning as he seemed to take a moment to hold himself back and savour her.

He ripped off his own shirt, reserving his gentleness only for her, and quickly removed the rest of his clothes until he was bare before her, looming and strong, cut with lean muscle and decorated with scars, his hair mussed and his eyes dark.

He pressed himself between her legs, circling his dick with rough fingers before sliding it against her, hitting that bundle of nerves that made her writhe and gasp as he lowered his heavy body over hers, his nose brushing up along her collarbone to her ear .

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered roughly. “This is it for me, Illy.”

She wrapped her legs around him, her heart melting, her hands pulling at his shoulders. “You better not,” she warned, though it sounded more like a whine. “I’m sick of this crush. I want everything.”

He scoffed lightly against her neck, likely at her pointed use of the word “crush,” but instead of teasing her again, he caught her lips in a searing kiss and gripped himself in his hand again, slowly sinking into her.

The stretch, the pressure, felt like coming home, even though they had never done this before.

Her body now knew the pain-pinched pleasure of being claimed by one of her large mates, and the sensation turned her blood to liquid and shortened her breaths.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, pulling back from their kiss, his jaw tense. He drew up to his full height, his hands pressing her thighs back, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he watched himself work into her until he was fully, painfully seated with her fluttering around him.

He dragged his eyes back to hers, breathing heavily, body held unnervingly still except for the pulse of his cock.

A muscle in his cheek flexed, his jaw tightening, eyes darkening further, and it was like watching him shed a second skin.

He suddenly became less human, more animal, his gaze raking over her in possessiveness, his fingers flexing before releasing her thighs, to grope her hips, her waist, her breasts, before one settled at her neck, pinning her to the table.

He pulled himself out of her, leaving the soaked head of his erection lodged at her entrance. “If you want it, beg for it,” he ordered, squeezing her neck tight enough to leave her gasping.

“P-Please,” she spluttered immediately, melting beneath him, all softness and yearning. “I need you, Mikki.”

His breath stuttered at the sound of his nickname. Usually, he smirked at her, but this time, he shoved back into her body almost like he couldn’t sheath himself quickly enough, and then he was bowing her with long, brutal thrusts, his rhythm almost hypnotic.

His teeth grazed her jaw, his grip never loosening from her neck, though he couldn’t thrust into her fully when he curved to reach her mouth.

A chess piece dug into her back, but he felt her discomfort through the bond and flicked it away before she could twist to reach it.

He seemed to tire of not being able to kiss her and enter her fully at the same time, releasing a growl of frustration before swiping her up from the table and falling to one of the armchairs, refusing to leave the cradle of her body as he positioned her on his lap and fisted his hand in her hair, dragging her mouth up to his as he anchored a strong hand to her hip and forced her to move.

He was so commanding, more deliberate than rough, though his movements began to grow a little more jagged as he panted into her mouth, swallowing her moans.

Her body arched toward him, her breasts rubbing against his chest, craving the release she still feared he would deny her.

“Touch yourself,” he growled, feeling how close she was. “Can you come before I stop you?”

Her fingers had never reached for her clit so fast, and panic over the threat that he would ruin another of her orgasms had her heart pounding fretfully. He seemed to enjoy her reaction, swearing against her temple as he flexed inside her, rifling his hips up at a punishing angle.

She gripped her release with all her strength, the pleasure cresting in a desperate, consuming wave, washing over her with so much violence that she trembled against him like a leaf as he blinked back into focus.

He moved her faster, capturing her lips and sipping at her petering gasps and whimpers as she clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, holding on as the world around them narrowed and shifted and tilted.