Page 77 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
“Give me everything,” I demand, my words garbled. My pussy pulls him in, works him, squeezes him so hard it must hurt. “I want it all, mate.”
“Fuck, I will, Peach,” he growls. “Ride me. Take what you want.”
I move forward and back, my pelvic bone grinding against his, our bodies sliding and slapping together. I’ve come toomany times to count now, my mind in pieces, my body on fire. Our wolves howl together, entwined as we admit what we are.
Fated.
Javi’s brow furrows as he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands clenching my hips. I bounce on top of him, his knot tugging at my entrance, the friction unstoppable. Our breaths come in sharp gasps, our moans melding into something like music.
“I’m…fuck?—”
Those are the only words he gets out before he spills his seed deep inside me, slamming his hips into me with a snarl. I drink him in, my inner walls pulsing and pulling him deeper, making sure I keep any trace of him with me.
He said it himself.
This is forever.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest, the two of us stuck together until his knot subsides. I press my cheek against his muscular chest, listening to the pounding of his heart, the mingling of our breath in the night.
“I love you, Peaches,” he says quietly. “And that scares the hell out of me.”
I put my hand over his heart, finding a trace of blood and remembering that I bit him. And it’s strange…
…because now that the bond is reciprocal, I feel that fear.
It has a different flavor to it than mine—not a fear of someone bigger and stronger overpowering you, but of not being able to protect someone.
It’s totally alien.
It helps me understand.
“We’re getting out of here,” I whisper. “Together or not at all.”
He doesn’t say anything in response.
And that scares me most of all—because I’m not sure if he agrees.
17
JAVI
Iwake up with my knot still nestled inside Peaches, her cunt warm and wet around me, her head tucked against my chest, red curls spilling like fire across my throat. One of her arms is thrown across my ribs, her fingers curled lightly in the center of my chest like she never meant to let go.
I don’t know what time it is. It’s still dark outside, the only sound the waves crashing against the support beams of the Rig, a deep-throated rhythm like the earth breathing around us.
She’s breathing slow. Peaceful.
It should be enough to keep me grounded. But I can’t stop the low pulse of anxiety rising in my chest—because morning’s coming, and when the sun rises, I’ll have to leave her. I’ll have to pretend this never happened.
I’ll have to act like I didn’t fall in love with her last night.
She stirs. Just the softest twitch of her fingers against my chest—but her brow furrows, and I know she feels it. The bond is real now. Her bite still burns on my neck, and my blood is in her veins just like hers is in mine.
She can feel it all. My panic. My shame. My fear.
And maybe that’s why she tightens around me—instinct or comfort or some silent signal that she’s still here, that she’s mine. Her cunt clenches and my hips jerk forward without thought, desire licking up my spine like wildfire.
Her lips part, a sleepy little gasp slipping out, and I press my mouth to her temple.
