Page 78 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
Her scent is everywhere. On my skin, in my sheets, soaked into my cock and buried in my chest.
My mate.
I rock my hips again, just enough to move inside her, and the barest friction makes her whimper, lashes fluttering open.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my voice like gravel. My eyes trail over the constellation of bite marks dotting her shoulder, her breast, the inside of her thigh. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
She shifts, presses her nose against my throat like she’s hiding—and then breathes out the words that make my wolf snarl in satisfaction.
“Fuck me again.”
It’s not a question. It’s a promise.
I slide my hand over her lower back, down to her thigh, and lift it across my hip to cradle her close, spooning her from behind. Her breath catches as I roll into her, my knot still swollen, my cock twitching with how good she feels around me.
“Javi,” she breathes.
“I know, Peach,” I murmur against her shoulder. “Come for me, mate.”
Her body obeys. Of course it does. Her cunt grips me tight, her hips jerking as slick gushes down my length, coating my shaft in the evidence of her pleasure. My hand splays across her belly as she arches back into me, her pulse thrumming under my lips.
And still—she keeps coming.
She gasps again, and I feel the second orgasm hit before she even realizes it. Her pussy flutters around me, desperate and wet and so fucking perfect, and I kiss her cheek as she writhes in my arms.
I don't move—not yet.
I want to stay inside her for as long as I can.
But when her body finally softens, when her breathing slows and her heartbeat calms, I ease myself out of her with care. She makes a soft, sleepy sound at the loss, and my hand instinctively moves to soothe her, to pet her curls, to trace the bite I left above her heart.
My knot slips free and I feel the warm trickle of my seed leaking down her thighs.
I’ve marked her. Claimed her. Filled her so full there will be no mistaking it—she’s mine, inside and out.
She always will be.
I let my hand rest over her belly, my nose in her hair, and let myself pretend for one long, quiet moment.
Pretend this is our home, that I’ll get to kiss her every morning like this, that we’re safe…but we’re not.
This isn’t our bed.
It’s a prison cell with clean sheets.
And in just a few hours, I’ll be forced to leave her behind—to fish, to obey, to act like I’m one of them.
Peaches rolls over and looks me in the eye as she cuddles against me, unable to extract herself from me—not that I would want to. She looks concerned, her lips tilting down and her brows raising.
“Don’t worry,” she says, her fingers grazing over the bite she left on my neck. “We’re connected through the bond.”
“I know.”
“And I know how to hide,” she says. “Your scent is all over me, no one will touch me.”
“I don’t trust this,” I say. “He’s separating us for a reason.”
“He just wants your ear,” she says. “He’s going to try to turn you against me.”
