Page 37 of Primal Snow

Urgency takes over, his feral noises growing louder and more savage as he pushes deeper with a single, brutal thrust. The pressure and the fullness are almost too much to bear, but my body reacts against my will to the sheer force of his invasion.

The wet slide of his slick cock is driving me crazy, every inch of his length pressing deeper and deeper until I feel like I’m being split in two. His hands move higher to grasp my tits as his claws dig into the firm flesh, anchoring me. With a powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his enormous shaft seated fully inside me. I let out a broken cry as my body burns with the effort of accommodating his knots pulsing with barely contained frenzy.

He gives me no time to adjust.

With another savage growl, he pulls back slightly, the thick ridges catching against my constricted walls, before he thrusts forward again, even harder this time. Again and again. He begins to move inside me steadily, fucking my ass, claiming what’s his.

I plead for him to stop, but my voice is immediately swallowed by his thunderous roars as he establishes a brutal, relentless rhythm. His mammoth cock stretches and fill me with every punishing stroke, the slickness ofthe melted ice easing his potent movements but doing nothing to lessen the sheer intensity of his size.

And then his fingers find my dripping pussy.

A hysterical cry escapes me as he plunges two thick digits inside. His claws are retracted, but I can still feel the thrilling sharp curve of them dragging against my hypersensitive walls. And I’ve never been this full. My body trembles violently, torn between the unbearable pressure mixed with the delightful friction of his cock pounding into me and the fierce invasion of his fingers. His rough thumb circles my throbbing clit, applying just enough pressure to send lightning bolts of sensation shooting through my core.

I’m unraveling.

Sensations collide. The brutal stretch, the relentless thrusts, the precise, unyielding attention to my clit. My body surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure that builds and builds until it feels as though I might shatter under the weight of it. The pressure coiled in my core snaps violently, and I scream as another blinding orgasm rips through me. Wetness gushes from me, dripping down his hand and soaking the fur of his forearm.

Desperation drives him now, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful, as he chases his own release. His savage cock fills me up to the point of delirium, while his thumb continues to torment my clit. The overstimulation is unbearable, too much, yet I can’t stop the waves of pleasure that crash over me again and again, leaving me lightheaded and trembling in his grasp.

At last, with a final barbaric plunge, he stills.

His massive hands grip me tightly as his cock throbs and pulses inside me. The heat of his release floods me, and I gasp as the first powerful wave hits, seeping out around his length and dripping down my thighs in thick, sticky streaks.

His snarl vibrates through his massive frame as he holds me firmly in place, ensuring every drop of his seed is buried deep inside me. My body is limp now, trembling and exhausted, the aftershocks of my orgasm still pulsing through me as his warmth continues to fill me.

My vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges of my sight as my body succumbs to the overwhelming sensations, and the world tilts and fades as darkness overtakes me.

Chapter 18

An unspecified amount of time later, my consciousness returns. Not all at once, but in sluggish, disjointed pieces, like my brain has to reboot before I can process reality again. It amazes me that I’m even still alive after everything my body has taken over the past days.

I hear his slow, wet chewing, like he’s taking his sweet time gnawing through something tough and sinewy, and it makes my skin crawl. My eyes blink open at him, where he sits by the fire just outside of the cage, and—yep. The bearis almost gone.

Its fur has been ripped away, skinned, and haphazardly tossed over the iron bars, hanging on display to dry by the flames.

How I wish I could do that to Yeti himself.

Or do I?

The violent thought should bring me satisfaction, but instead, it sits strangely in my chest, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit anymore.

I sink into the furs below me, massaging my numb arms after being restrained for so long. I may be back in the cage, but at least the rope and shackles are gone.

Noticing that I’m awake, he tears off a hefty chunk of meat and roasts it over the flames, then—like he’s a fucking Michelin star chef—serves it to me with a smug expression on his alien face.

I eat without complaining, and as I chew, I catch the slight curl of his lips and the twisted gleam in his dark eyes. Oh, he’sproudof himself. As if I should be grateful that he killed an apex predator with his bare hands for me, not realizing he, himself, is the predator I fear the most. A round of applause for him.

Typical alpha male shit. They really are all the same, no matter what species. If Yeti were a modern-day man, I guarantee he’d have a podcast about howfemalesdon’t respect“real men”andtraditional valuesanymore.

The dude is a walking red flag. I could blame his behavior on the whole “beast of the wild” shtick, but honestly? He seems pretty fucking comprehend when he wants to be. I think he just likes me weak. Dependent. Easy to control.

And yet, as my gaze flickers lower, I notice something else.

The deep slash I left on his chest, the jagged wound torn into his fur, his skin still slick with drying blood. And tell me why the hell I feel bad?

Before I can slap some sense into me, my hand moves on its own, slipping past the bars of the cage. My fingers barely brush against the torn flesh, but the moment my skin makes contact, he hisses and jerks back.

I hate that I even give a fuck. Why do I care when I hate him so much? Why do I feel guilty for hurting him when he’s done so much worse to me?

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