Page 22 of Wulver’s Flame (Knotty #2)

Liùsaidh

When my face hit the pillow, it jolted me from his spell, but then he lifted my hips and shoved a pillow beneath me, settling my body exactly where he wanted it. He straddled my legs, and the thick heat of his cock pressed between my cheeks.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’ve dreamt of your rear cheeks, Liùsaidh, relived every moment of my rut for weeks,” he rasped.

I felt it through the bond—his need, his ache, and beneath it all, the sharp burn to punish.

When I tried to spread my legs for him, he pressed his weight down, pinning me.

“No, Liùsaidh. You’ll keep those thighs closed and feel every part of me tear into your gaping bloom. And when my knot splits you open, you’ll remember who you are. Liùsaidh Flameheart. Mate. Husfreyja. Skaekja mín.”

Each title made my toes curl, and slick drip between my folds.

He leaned over my back until I felt his face against my hair.

“And móeur,” he whispered in my ear. Mother.

The reverence wasn’t only in his voice—it rippled through the bond, overwhelming and powerful like a sacred vow. It flooded my chest, curled around my ribs, and settled deep in my womb.

I clutched the pillows, biting my lip as I pressed my arse back against the thick, searing heat of his cock between us.

His breath caught. Mine faltered.

We were past want. Past reason.

I was his.

And he would remind me with every thrust, every stretch from his cock, who I belonged to.

“Did you miss having me inside you, Liùsaidh?” he asked softly, but the demon in him rubbed his stiff cock between my cheeks, teasing me.

He gripped my hair and twisted my head to the side, sniffing me before he dragged his tongue to the faded bite mark. His teeth grazed over his mark, and his hot breath fanned my neck, until I arched my back, pressing my breasts against the coarse linen.

He chuckled, low and dark, with a knowing tone. “Let’s see if your cunt remembers me.”

I closed my eyes as his weight lifted from my back, shifting to the backs of my thighs. The slick head of his cock dragged down through my folds, rubbing up and down until I was slicker still.

“Yes,” I whispered when he pressed against my opening, aching for the stretch.

He was slow, teasing and pushing a little in before snatching his staff away again. I kicked my legs up, trying to reach his back.

“Mmm, like the summer’s ripe fruit,” he said, gripping my cheeks so tight that I winced.

He released them before—

SLAP.

I gasped and clenched around him. He groaned in reply and pushed his cock deeper.

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

With each slap to my arse, he thrust and made me clench around him.

The slapping stopped.

“Leaking all over the place,” he muttered before his arms moved beside my body.

He slammed into me. Deep, hard, and stretching me out.

I cried out in relief. His staff gave me what I ached for on the tree through the twisted bond.

He slammed into me like a battering ram—again. My arms trembled as I gripped the pillows, my chest crushed into the bedding while my cunt was spread wide, claimed again. The stretch burned. The pressure made me dizzy. But Gods…the relief of having him there, splitting me apart?

I moaned, lost in the drunken pleasure.

“You’re not gaping enough,” he snarled, slamming in deeper. “Take more, Liùsaidh. Take every part of my cock.”

I choked on my breath as he drove into me harder, crueller, rutting like the beast he was. His pace sharpened, punishing. Each plunge dragged my swollen folds with him, pulled them back and forth with the weight of him, until my thighs were slick and soaked with my shame.

The bed creaked violently under us, the frame rocking with every slam of his hips. I sobbed into the pillow, overwhelmed, undone—but he didn’t slow. Not when he felt the knot thudding against my skin, teasing the inside of my thighs. Not when he felt me tremble.

“You hear that?” he growled. “That’s your greedy little slit drooling for my knot. Filthy little whore. Can’t even take a hard fuck without begging for more.”

My insides fluttered, clinging to him, proving him right.

He reached back, spreading my cheeks. My breath hitched.

“Look at this cunt. Sucking me in like it’s starving. And you think you’ll ever escape me? Never again. I’ll keep you stuffed and knotted until your belly swells.”

I cried out as he forced my thighs apart, just barely, just enough—and then he slammed back inside, knocking the breath from my lungs. I felt the knot again, slick and swollen, battering at my opening.

I lifted my hips in a daze, desperate, broken open by the need.

He growled behind me.

“Good girl.”

Then he drove forward—and it happened.

His knot breached me. Stretched me wide. Locked me. I screamed as the heat tore through me, blinding, glorious, unbearable and divine. My cunt clenched violently around the thick mass, my whole body pulsing as I shattered around him.

Somewhere in the haze, I heard him roar. Dull, distant. Irrelevant.

All I knew was fullness. Finally, full again.

Heat between our bodies. The bond dancing in my chest.

And the slow, glorious flood of him emptying inside me.

If this was his method of punishment, I might need to escape again.