Page 47 of Fat Sold Mate
The question barely leaves my lips before her hand tangles in my hair, yanking me forward with surprising strength. Her mouth crashes against mine, teeth nipping at my bottom lip almost painfully.
“Don't you dare,” she growls against my mouth. “Fuck me, James. Now.”
The raw desperation in her voice snaps the last thread of my control. I lift her away from the floor, carrying her to the nearby rickety table, sweeping everything off with one arm before setting her down. Her legs remain wrapped around me as I position myself between her thighs, the head of my cock teasing her entrance.
“Look at me,” I command, waiting until her eyes lock with mine.
When I thrust forward, burying myself to the hilt in one powerful stroke, her scream echoes through the cave. Her back arches off the table, hands scrambling for purchase as I withdraw almost completely before slamming back in. The table creaks beneath us, threatening to collapse with each brutal thrust.
“Is this what you wanted?” I growl, gripping her hips hard. I angle her pelvis upward, hitting deeper with each punishing stroke.
“Yes,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “God, yes.”
I hook her legs over my shoulders, the new angle allowing me to penetrate even deeper. The table beneath us groans in protest, wood splintering under the force of our coupling. Her ample breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, her body sliding across the surface until I grip her hips, anchoring her in place as I pound into her mercilessly.
“Mine,” I growl, the word tearing from my throat as primal and raw as the act itself.
My pace is punishing, each thrust harder than the last. The slap of flesh against flesh fills the room, punctuated by her breathless cries and my guttural groans. I can feel her inner walls clenching around me, her body struggling to accommodate my size as I claim her with savage intensity.
I pull her up, flush against my chest, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her ass as I thrust upward with brutal force. The table finally gives way beneath us, splintering with a deafening crack that neither of us acknowledges. We tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs, but I never lose my connection to her, protecting her from the impact of the fall and then spinning us so she's beneath me on the hard wooden planks and thrusting right back in.
“Fuck me,” she begs, her nails digging crescents into my shoulders.
I brace myself above her, driving into her with renewed vigor. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my lower back, urging me deeper. The walls echo around us, our bodies slick with sweat as I pound into her relentlessly. Each thrust draws a broken cry from her lips, her body jerking with the force of my possession.
I feel the pressure building at the base of my gut, my rhythm faltering as the edge approaches. Her walls flutter around me, tightening with each thrust as her breathing grows ragged. Our eyes lock, and I see the moment she begins to fall.
“James,” she gasps, her body going rigid beneath me. “I'm—”
The rest dissolves into a keening cry as she shatters completely, her inner muscles clenching around me in waves that trigger my own release. With a guttural roar, I drive into her one final time, burying myself to the hilt as pleasure explodes through me. My vision whites out, every muscle locking as I empty myself inside her, my entire body convulsing with the force of it.
For endless seconds, we remain frozen in ecstasy, our bodies pulsing in unison, the bond between us wide open and crackling with shared pleasure.
Slowly, reality seeps back in. The heat between us cools as abruptly as it ignited, leaving only the harsh sound of our breathing in the shattered room.
I roll away, suddenly aware of the destruction around us—the splintered table, scattered items, the evidence of our loss of control. Ruby winces as she sits up, avoiding my gaze. Something has shifted again; the moment of connection is already retreating like a tide from shore.
She stands unsteadily, gathering her discarded clothes with mechanical movements. Her shoulders hunch forward as if to make herself smaller. When she stumbles slightly, I reach out instinctively, but she flinches away from my touch.
“Don't,” she whispers, the single word carrying more weight than all our passionate cries combined.
Now, the silence returns, but transformed—heavy with implications neither of us is ready to face. We lie down side by side on the blanket. Ruby turns away first, creating distance that feels more significant than the mere inches between our bodies. Through the bond, I sense her confusion, her regret, her fear that what just happened was merely physical—the result of grief and proximity rather than genuine feeling.
She's wrong, but I don't know how to tell her. Don't know how to explain that my feelings for her existed long before the forced bond, before the lottery, before all of this. That watching her cry tore something open inside me that might never heal properly.
Instead, I stare at the cave ceiling, mapping the shadows while my mind races with all the things I should say but can'tfind words for. Beside me, Ruby's breathing gradually steadies, though I know she's no more asleep than I am.
The space between us now feels wider than ever, despite the intimacy we just shared. Or perhaps because of it. Some barriers, once crossed, reveal only deeper chasms on the other side.
Morning will come soon, bringing with it decisions that can't be delayed. But for now, in this stone shelter hidden from the world, we lie together yet apart, bound by blood and magic and something neither of us is brave enough to name.
Chapter 17 - Ruby
Sunlight streams through the vine curtain, dragging me unwillingly from sleep. For one blissful moment, I exist in the limbo between dreaming and waking, before memory crashes back—Sera's sacrifice, the desperate flight through the forest, and then...
Oh god. Then.
I squeeze my eyes shut, mortification burning through me as fragments from last night flash behind my eyelids. The way James shifted from wolf to man. The heat of his skin against mine. The desperate, almost violent way we came together, grief transforming into something else entirely.
