Page 32 of Tangled in Red

The third spurt came stronger, and he felt Brett’s entrance relax further. He pressed forward slightly, the head of his cock breaching the tight ring. Motherfuck.

“Holy shit,” Brett hissed, fingers clutching the sheets, his face scrunching.

Diablo stilled, locking his muscles in place. “Breathe for me, mi elegido. You can’t tense up like that.”

Brett nodded, taking a deep breath. As he exhaled, Diablo pressed inside another inch. He was clenching his teeth so hard they were going to crack. His hips wanted to thrust, to claim, to mark, but he held back, waiting for Brett’s signal.

“Jesus,” his mate gasped. “You’re…inside me.”

“Me estoy muriendo, joder. Tienes que dejarme mover.” Diablo squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched. “Babe…”

“Fuck me already.” Brett dug his fingernails into Diablo’s back. “Quiero que me folles fuerte!”

The male had no idea what he was asking for. He wasn’t going to fuck Brett hard, but he wasn’t going to treat him like a delicate flower either.

Brett’s nails broke skin. Heat shot through Diablo at his mate marking him, claiming him in return. He drove the rest of the way inside, and the tight grip on his cock was like an iron fist, nearly making his eyes roll back. With each punch of his hips, slick heat built between them, hot, filthy, and real.

“There,” Brett gasped. “Right there.”

Diablo grinned, repeating the motion, hips swiveling in a way that made Brett cry out when he hit that spot deep inside.

“Fuck…Diablo,” Brett gasped, arching up like his spine couldn’t take it.

Diablo rocked back, slowing for a second. “Too much?” He caressed his mate’s sides, careful to avoid the bruised shoulder and wrist.

“Don’t you stop,” Brett warned with a feisty little growl that made Diablo want to brand every inch of this man. “Move back.”

“Bossy,” Diablo smirked. “What’re you up to, elegido?”

They locked gazes, and Diablo felt himself leaning toward him. Jesus Christ, those eyes. He was so beautiful.

“I want on my hands and knees.” When Brett shoved at his chest, Diablo obeyed, pulling his cock free of his mate’s body. He helped his mate turn over, sucking air between his teeth when Brett presented his ass.

“Qué belleza,” he breathed, brushing his palms over his mate’s perfect backside.

“Belleza me later.” Brett reached back, slapping Diablo’s thigh. “You gonna make me wait while you check out my ass?”

He shoved backward, thrusting himself toward Diablo’s hard-as-nails cock. His mate was challenging him, teasing Diablo in the sexy fucking way possible.

“Careful what you beg for.” The male was driving him insane. Diablo grabbed his cock, the head kissing Brett’s ring, then shoved forward with a thrust that nearly knocked Brett into the pillows. “This what you want, cariño? Wanna feel my dick so far inside of you that you’ll never want me out?”

“Diablo!” Brett was sucking in air so hard Diablo wondered if he should’ve dropped a bottle of water on the nightstand before they’d started. But he was pushing back, matching the rhythm, bouncing on Diablo’s cock as Diablo rolled his hips, aiming for that sweet spot.

“Voy a follarte hasta que solo recuerdes mi nombre.” He wrapped his fingers around his mate’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Brett’s back arched beautifully. “No idea what that means, but don’t stop.”

Something surged inside of Diablo. A feeling he didn’t recognize. Not just lust. He knew that feeling plenty all too well. Not just his wolf, who was clawing at him, trying to get out. It was something deeper. He stared down at Brett, his pale body giving as good as he was getting. That fucking bruise on his mate’s shoulder. Sweat glistened on his pale skin, his red hair disheveled.

Then, in one breath, it came to him.

Diablo had fallen deeply in love with his redhead. The kinda love a man would kill over. The kind he would drop to his knees to keep by his side. He wanted Brett on the back of his bike and in his bed permanently. His wolf had already chosen the human. Now Diablo was choosing him too. Not just in words, but with his fucking heart.

The admission hung in his mind, raw and honest. He felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with his nudity. His wolf howled, recognizing the moment for what it was. A claiming, yes, but also a surrender.

You own my soul, little bird.

He withdrew slowly before sliding back in, setting a languid pace. Each thrust was deliberate, angled to brush against the spot that would make Brett see stars. His hips swiveled, grinding deep rather than hammering away. Brett’s moans spilled into the pillow, muffled but unmistakable.

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