Page 19 of The Hunt
My hand leaves her hip, slipping between her spread thighs. I trace my claws from her mound to where my cock is pistoning in and out, before sliding toward one of my favorite love bites. It’s on her inner thigh, and every time I touch it, she inhales sharply and her arousal blooms. Today, though, I want to play and tease and own every erogenous zone.
“What are you…oh sweet Goddess.” I don’t know if my mate is begging for relief or demanding I don’t stop, but she takes what I give her. With my cock buried to just above the bulge at the base, I push the knot against her opening, but don’t lock us together. Instead, I use her wetness to tease the crease of her inner thighs where she’s sensitive before tapping my mark there.
The bite mark is slightly raised, a little darker than her skin tone, and always makes her shiver. Sensitive, it makes her thrash as I rub across the patch of flesh and extend my clawed thumb to her clit. The stimulation of both—my cock buried deep and knot pulsing—pulls another orgasm from her.
“Such a good little witch for her mate.” Pleasure crests, and she squirts, her slick flooding my cock and knot, dripping beneath us to the pelts and sheets. Isa falls forward, but I yank her back to me. “Now give me one more.”
“Too sensitive,” she whines, legs trying to close, but that’s unacceptable. With my knees, I widen her legs to the point she’d be flat on the bed if my hand wasn’t splayed across her lower abdomen. I palm the area with my fingers soaked in her come, and pull out so just the tip sits at her entrance. Then I turn her face to mine, black eyes on hooded blue.
I don’t say anything while I let go of her hair, run my fingers from her neck to her mouth, and tap her lips. They part, and she immediately wraps her tongue around two digits. Sucking them in, she lets me push them to the back of her throat before I move them to her arsehole.
“I need your knot, my alpha. Give it to me,” the last word is a scream, ripped from her throat as I bury myself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. My knot is locked inside her, swollen and stretching her wide while the two spit-soaked fingers massage her arsehole. While I rock my hips, fighting back my orgasm—every nerve ending in my body is alight with pleasure—I slip the two digits to the first knuckle and back out again. While she tightens and mewls, body falling flat on the mattress, I feel the bulge of my cock straining her belly with each short thrust.
From the soles of my feet to my heavy balls, fire licks at my flesh. All I feel and see is her:
Her holes stretched around me.
My fingers are sliding in and out of her arse now.
The satiated grin on her face when she looks at me from over her shoulder.
However, it’s the way she says, “Come for me, love,” that makes me lose all control.
I’m unable to hold back, locked in with the head of my cock against her cervix. The tightness—the pride coming through our bond—feels like a pulse stroking my knot inside of her…
I come. Rope after rope of my spend fills her and overflows, and through each one, I never stop rocking into her. Never stop pumping my fingers in her arse, and she comes again a minute after me.
Worshipped. Claimed. Loved.
“I love you, Xadiel. You three mean the world to me.” Isabella’s soft voice is threaded with devotion, and in the haze of rut, I don’t question her. Instead, I shift us, settling her over me so her weight is on my chest, my hands holding her steady as I slide in and out of her lazily. My swollen knot keeps us locked, my cock occasionally pumping more come into her womb.
For now, I give her stillness, though. A moment to try and catch her breath.
Because it won’t last. Never does between us.
I could spend days like this—wrapped in her scent and magic—and still crave more. My little moon is wonder made flesh, the owner of my heart and soul.
My queen. My home.
8
ANAYA
My phone buzzes before dawn.
Just one vibration, the kind a seer uses when she doesn’t want my mate to know she’s contacting me. Isabella made me promise her tone stays silent with the single buzz as her marker. She’s a sneaky one. To me, at least.
While everyone thinks of her as the responsible one—the glue in the family—I see her true form. My sister-in-law is a spirited witch with a halo of gold and streaks of chaos. She does things her way. Unapologetically her.
Turning my head toward Leo’s pillow, I find it empty just as the shower starts in the bathroom. He’s up earlier than normal, heading toward the training fields today to run drills with his general. That leaves me with just a few hours to get everything for tonight set in motion, which means if Isabella is texting this early, she saw something.
As I finish that thought, I receive another short buzz.
Tonight is All Hallows’ Eve ~ Isa
The night when mates remember the hunger that bound them. ~Isa
I smile into my pillow. Of course, she knows I wasn’t planning anything innocent.
