Page 17 of The Hunt
Because that’s what I am.
At his mercy. Here to serve.
“More,” I whimper, leaning in to steal another kiss, when he tsks and pulls back. When his eyes meet mine, I find pride with a hint of amusement in his expression.
He’s reveling in my desire for him.
“Tell me, my luna. Tell your male what you need.”
Goddess, his voice alone…
“Please, Xadiel.” I try to lean in for another kiss, but he shakes his head.
“Tell me.” He licks his right fang, his muscles bulging from restraint. “Before I use you like nothing more than a hole for my pleasure. Beg me to please you, my love, instead of breeding you like a whore.”
7
XADIEL
“I’m your whore. Only yours.”
“Fucking hell, Isabella.” Her acceptance—the truth in those words—they cause my hips to snap forward. I’m pressed against her slick cunt, body forcing her thighs obscenely apart as I slide the thickest part of my cock through her labia. She’s bare and slick, body trembling, and I’ve barely touched her. But then again, she’s always been like this. “Always so fucking responsive.”
“Please.” Goosebumps rise across her skin, and she shivers while her hips tilt in a silent plea for more. That earns my female another rough kiss. It’s hard and fast, full of stinging nips between strokes of my tongue, and over too fast as I drag my sharp incisors down her chin.
Then her neck.
I’m leaning over her, forcing her back to arch and breasts to jut out. Motherfuck, she’s beautiful. All soft skin and lush curves, my mark on her neck while the tattoo of my wolf adorns her supple thigh. Isabella’s red hair tumbles over my closed fist in loose waves while those baby-blue eyes watch me from under long lashes. No man could resist her, and I’m a willing prisoner born to serve her.
And in return, I’m gifted her love. Rewarded by her cunt.
“Perfection.” It leaves me on a murmur before I pierce the skin above her collarbone, then her sternum, before my fangs embed deep into her left breast. I’m blessed to feel her emotions through our bond—a shock of pain that turns into the sweetest pleasure, and the proof of it bathes my cock. Through our bond, I feel the shock of pain, but that soon turns into pleasure.
Her slick drips as a small tremor rocks through her.
“Oh, fuck,” she hisses out, trembling as my length flexes against her. She’s pinned in place, while the hand gripping her hair moves to her other breast, claws tugging at the stiff peak. I pinch, pull…smack her tit, and my little moon can only moan out a low please I ignore.
Her whine and scent change a little then, both tinged with unsatiated need. That won’t do.
Extracting my teeth, I pull the tip into my mouth, alternating between flicks and broad strokes of my tongue—sharp nips that draw little cries from her. Her skin grows flushed, sensitive as I lick a path from one nipple to the other, drawing my fangs across soft flesh before suckling the sanguine drops that rise from the small cuts.
I’ve always enjoyed the taste of her blood as much as her pussy.
It’s her. Her essence.
Little Moon digs her fingers into my hair then, nails scraping over my scalp as she holds me against her. Silently asks that I take more of her breast, and I do. Sucking half her tit into my mouth, I lavish the flesh with licks and deep pulls, hollowing my cheeks as her tight nipple swells to a diamond point against my tongue.
And in this moment, I wish she were still producing milk. It’s been a few years, our pup is a toddler now, and I miss feeding from her. I miss seeing her round with my child, her body clinging to mine as she demands more.
Of my cock. Of my spend.
My hips jerk, and pre-come spreads across her mound and down to Isa’s entrance, marking her as mine. The need to tattoo myself into her every bloody cell is almost overwhelming, but I welcome the madness. This crazed desire to own every sinful fucking inch of her again and again.
A whine slips from her plump mouth, pulling me back to the present. I’m entrapped by the slow roll of her hips beneath me. “I want another pup, Alpha. Breed your female.”
Nothing could break an alpha like those words. The small amount of control I’d regained through her thoughtful gift evaporates, and I’m staring down at her, a snarl curling at my lips.
There are no words. There will be no fucking reprieve.
