Page 27 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

JAVI

S eeing those awful things today made me feel like nothing could ever be right in the world—that I would have to treat her badly when I came back, just to keep her safe.

But being with Peaches again…I melt.

I can’t pretend I don’t love her…because God, how could I not love her? How could these men expect me to mate with this beautiful, bright woman and treat her like anything but a goddess?

I lose myself in her as she sucks my finger into her mouth, her big brown eyes hooded, her eyelashes fluttering. Peaches works her tongue around me with the enthusiasm of someone who’s never done a lot of this before, tasting my skin like it’s her first time—because it is.

I can’t believe I’m lucky enough that she chose me, of all people, to be her one and only.

I don’t deserve this…I don’t deserve her.

I take my hand away and start to move down her body, already aching to taste her again—but her fingers slide into my hair, gentle and firm. She stops me. Holds me there.

I blink up at her.

She looks…awestruck. Like she’s still trying to wrap her head around this— us . That we’ve survived. That we found something sweet in all this rot. That I’m hers and she’s mine and we still get to have this, even in a place that wants to take everything.

“I want to make you feel good,” she whispers.

My heart stutters.

I lean down and kiss her—slow, deep, reverent. “You do make me feel good,” I growl against her lips.

She huffs a quiet laugh. “Not like that,” she murmurs, eyes gleaming. “Like…roll over.”

And I do. No hesitation. I roll onto my back and stretch out on the bed, my cock already hard, already aching for her.

She moves to straddle my thighs, still in that little white dress—thin and clingy and indecent, her curves outlined like a prayer.

She keeps her eyes on mine as her fingers move to the button of my jeans.

It’s the softest undressing—gentle, unhurried. Her hands are warm, sure. She unzips me and slides the fabric down just enough, freeing me from the denim. My cock springs up, flushed and ready, and I expect her to climb into my lap.

But she doesn’t.

She wraps her hand around me instead, light and tentative. Testing. Exploring. Learning.

I suck in a breath, watching her as she strokes me—slow at first, then gradually faster. Her touch is delicate but focused, and I feel every inch of it like fire lapping at my skin.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” I murmur. “Don’t be so careful.”

She bites her lip—and then I see the decision in her eyes. That flash of determination. That hunger.

Her hand tightens. Her pace quickens.

A groan tears out of my throat, and I buck into her touch, half-dazed already—and then she leans forward and lowers her mouth to me.

Wet heat wraps around the head of my cock and I nearly lose it.

“Fuck,” I hiss, eyes flying open to watch her.

Her mouth is soft and eager, her lips slick as she kisses the tip, then lowers again, taking me in inch by inch.

Her hand works in tandem, stroking what her mouth can’t reach, her eyes flicking up to watch me as she learns what I like.

As she gives me something no one ever has.

Worship. Willingly. With power in her hands.

I fist her hair and guide her gently, my other hand braced behind me. “Deeper, mate,” I breathe, my voice trembling.

She moans around me—and the sound reverberates down my cock. It’s all I can do not to come right there, with her mouth stretched around me and her tongue so eager, so fucking good.

She’s in control, and I love it. I love the way she watches me fall apart for her. I love the raw, honest pleasure in her eyes like she wants this—like she wants to know me this way too.

But I’m close. Too close.

I jerk back suddenly, gasping, my cock slipping free of her mouth with a soft pop. She blinks up at me, flushed and breathless, her lips wet, her chest rising and falling fast.

“What—” she starts.

I answer by pulling her into my arms and kissing her like a drowning man.

My hands find her hips, her thighs, and I guide her over me—turning her, placing her on her hands and knees with reverence.

I push Peaches’ dress up over her hips and hold her there, her cunt glistening with arousal, swollen with need and still pink and pretty from getting fucked all night.

I take a second. Just to look at her.

Because this is a gift. She’s letting me have her again. She wants me.

She claimed me.

I press my forehead to her spine and whisper, “You’re everything, Peach. Everything.”

And then I slide in—slow, deep, all the way.

She gasps, her body clenching around me, and I groan as I fill her, knot and all. Her body takes me like it’s built for it—like I belong here, buried inside her.

And I do.

Because this—this—is what they can’t take from us.

Not her love.

Not mine.

Not this.

Slick coats my cock and drips down her folds as I roll my hips with a groan.

Peaches whimpers, over and over, each sound like it’s being torn out of her.

Her breaths come fast and shallow, her body trembling beneath mine as she pushes back against me.

She’s trying to be quiet—trying to stay good, stay small, not draw attention—but I can feel everything through the bond.

She’s not scared. She’s overwhelmed. She’s desperate. She’s mine.

Our nerves fire as one. Our hearts pound in sync. Every instinct I’ve got tells me to claim her, protect her, ruin her for anyone else.

I shift forward, wrapping my arms tight around her middle as I yank her flush against me. My knot tugs at her entrance, thick and insistent. Her cunt is soaked, squeezing so tight around me it makes my vision blur.

“My mate,” she breathes. “I want…”

I lean close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “What do you want, Peach?” I murmur, voice rough with need.

She turns her face toward mine, eyes blazing with something almost feral—gold threading through all that sweet brown.

“I want you to breed me,” she whispers. “I want you to fuck me, fill me. I want to feel your come dripping down my thighs and know there’s no one else in the world but you and me.”

Something inside me breaks. Or maybe it heals. I’m not sure.

All I know is that I need her.

I snap my hips forward, deeper than I thought possible, until her body shakes with the force of it.

My hands slide up, splaying over her breasts, cupping their weight.

I thumb her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.

The hem’s bunched around her waist now, offering no protection, no barrier.

Just skin and sweat and the heady, endless scent of her arousal.

We should be more careful while we’re prisoners in a house of horrors.

But when she moans my name like that, when her cunt flutters around me like she’s begging for my come—I lose the will to care.

I can’t say no to her.

She wants my seed? Then she’s getting every last drop.

My orgasm tears through me and I bury my face in her neck as I spill into her with a growl, knot swelling to keep it locked deep. She gasps, her body convulsing in pleasure, and I slide my fingers between her thighs to circle her clit.

“You’re mine,” I whisper. “You’re mine, Peach.”

She sobs out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cry, her body trembling through another orgasm as I keep touching her, keep coaxing every last bit of pleasure from her spent body.

I don’t stop until she’s limp in my arms, until her pussy is soaked and swollen and filled with me.

And still I don’t leave her.

I stay inside, tangled with her as we fall to our sides, my knot still snug and swollen, keeping everything where it belongs. Her legs hook around mine, her breathing slow and steady now.

I bury my face in her hair, peppering kisses along her shoulder, down her spine, my hand resting over the soft swell of her belly. Not because I think it’ll happen. Not because I believe it’s possible.

But because maybe, just maybe, it is.

Maybe this is what survival looks like.

Not just escape.

Not just defiance.

But love.

“I never thought I’d want this,” I whisper against her skin. “A mate. A life. A future.”

She doesn’t speak…just lets out this low purr of pleasure, snuggling closer. I stroke my hand down to her cunt again—gentle now, reverent—drawing slow circles that make her shiver.

“We’ll be careful,” I murmur. “We’ll wait. But if you still want this when we’re free…”

Her hand covers mine.

“I’ll always want it,” she says softly. “I’ll always want you.”

And just like that, the whole world fades away.

There’s only us now.

Only here.

Only this.

And for the first time since we landed on the Rig, I let myself believe we’ll survive it.

Because hope is dangerous…but it’s what’s going to get us through this.