Page 94 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
I take a second. Just to look at her.
Because this is a gift. She’s letting me have her again. She wants me.
She claimed me.
I press my forehead to her spine and whisper, “You’re everything, Peach. Everything.”
And then I slide in—slow, deep, all the way.
She gasps, her body clenching around me, and I groan as I fill her, knot and all. Her body takes me like it’s built for it—like I belong here, buried inside her.
And I do.
Because this—this—is what they can’t take from us.
Not her love.
Not mine.
Not this.
Slick coats my cock and drips down her folds as I roll my hips with a groan. Peaches whimpers, over and over, each sound like it’s being torn out of her. Her breaths come fast and shallow, her body trembling beneath mine as she pushes back against me. She’s trying to be quiet—trying to stay good, stay small, not draw attention—but I can feel everything through the bond. She’s not scared. She’s overwhelmed. She’s desperate. She’s mine.
Our nerves fire as one. Our hearts pound in sync. Every instinct I’ve got tells me to claim her, protect her, ruin her for anyone else.
I shift forward, wrapping my arms tight around her middle as I yank her flush against me. My knot tugs at her entrance, thick and insistent. Her cunt is soaked, squeezing so tight around me it makes my vision blur.
“My mate,” she breathes. “I want…”
I lean close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “What do you want, Peach?” I murmur, voice rough with need.
She turns her face toward mine, eyes blazing with something almost feral—gold threading through all that sweet brown.
“I want you to breed me,” she whispers. “I want you to fuck me, fill me. I want to feel your come dripping down my thighs and know there’s no one else in the world but you and me.”
Something inside me breaks. Or maybe it heals. I’m not sure.
All I know is that I need her.
I snap my hips forward, deeper than I thought possible, until her body shakes with the force of it. My hands slide up, splaying over her breasts, cupping their weight. I thumb her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. The hem’s bunched around her waist now, offering no protection, no barrier. Just skin and sweat and the heady, endless scent of her arousal.
We should be more careful while we’re prisoners in a house of horrors.
But when she moans my name like that, when her cunt flutters around me like she’s begging for my come—I lose the will to care.
I can’t say no to her.
She wants my seed? Then she’s getting every last drop.
My orgasm tears through me and I bury my face in her neck as I spill into her with a growl, knot swelling to keep it locked deep. She gasps, her body convulsing in pleasure, and I slide my fingers between her thighs to circle her clit.
“You’re mine,” I whisper. “You’re mine, Peach.”
She sobs out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cry, her body trembling through another orgasm as I keep touching her, keep coaxing every last bit of pleasure from her spent body.
I don’t stop until she’s limp in my arms, until her pussy is soaked and swollen and filled with me.
And still I don’t leave her.
