Chapter 45 Not Just Instinct
Wynter‘s POV
"Not yet," he growled, releasing my nipple with a wet pop. "Turn around. I want to take you from behind."
He lifted me off his lap, turning me so I was kneeling on the couch, facing away from him. I braced my hands on the back of the sofa, arching my back, presenting myself to him.
"Fuck," he breathed, his hands gripping my ass, spreading me wide. "Look at you. So wet. So ready for me."
He positioned himself at my entrance, then thrust into me in one hard stroke. I screamed, the angle driving him impossibly deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
"Yes," I gasped. "God, yes—right there—"
He set a brutal pace, his hips slamming against my ass with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, obscene and erotic, mingling with our harsh breathing and my desperate moans.
"You take my cock so well," he growled, leaning over my back, his chest pressed against mine. One hand reached around to cup my breast, squeezing and kneading, while the other slid down to where we were joined, his fingers finding my clit.
"Chase!" I cried out, my body jerking at the dual stimulation.
"That's it," he urged, his fingers circling my clit in tight, relentless strokes. "Come for me, Wynter. I want to feel you squeeze my cock."
The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter in my core, until finally it snapped. I came with a scream, my body convulsing around him, my inner walls clenching and fluttering around his shaft.
"Fuck—yes—" He groaned, his rhythm faltering. He thrust into me three more times, deep and hard, then buried himself to the hilt as he came, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his release.
We collapsed onto the cushions, panting, slick with sweat. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as we both struggled to catch our breath.
But after only a moment, I felt him stir behind me, his cock already beginning to harden again inside me.
"Bedroom," he said, his voice rough. "I'm not done with you yet."
He pulled out of me—I whimpered at the loss—then lifted me into his arms, carrying me to the bedroom. He laid me down on the cool sheets, the moonlight filtering through the window and painting his naked body in silver and shadow.
He was magnificent—broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every muscle defined, and his cock standing proud and ready between his legs, still slick with our combined fluids.
He moved over me, settling between my thighs, and I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his shaft again. He was still hard, still hot, and I could feel him throb in my palm.
"You're insatiable," I murmured, stroking him slowly.
"Only with you," he said, his golden eyes burning into mine. He batted my hand away, positioning himself at my entrance. "Only ever with you."
He pushed inside me slowly this time, savoring the slide. I watched his face—the way his eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as he exhaled, the cords of his neck standing out with the effort of his restraint.
"Look," he said, his voice strained. "Look at where we're joined."
I glanced down, and the sight made my breath catch. His cock was thick and glistening, sliding in and out of me with a mesmerizing rhythm. I could see my arousal coating him, see the way my body stretched around him, accommodating his size.
"You're watching," he murmured, catching my gaze.
"I like seeing you inside me," I admitted breathlessly. "I like seeing how you fill me up."
He groaned, the sound guttural and raw. "You're going to kill me, Wynter."
He picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with more force. He grabbed my ankles, hooking them over his shoulders, folding me nearly in half. The new angle drove him impossibly deeper, and I cried out, my hands fisting in the sheets.
"Is this what you wanted?" he demanded, his voice rough. "You wanted me deep? You wanted me to fuck you hard?"
"Yes," I gasped. "God, yes—don't stop—"
He didn't. He drove into me with relentless power, every thrust a declaration of possession. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he took me, claimed me, marked me with every stroke.
I could feel the urge building again—the burning need to bite him, to complete the Bond, to seal us together forever. And I knew he felt it too. He lowered his head to my neck, his teeth grazing the skin, hovering over the pulse point.
But he didn't bite.
Instead, he kissed the spot tenderly, reverently, even as his hips continued their relentless rhythm.
"Not like this," he whispered against my skin. "When we complete the Bond... I want it to be a ceremony. A choice. Not just heat and instinct."
I nodded, tears pricking my eyes at his restraint. Even in the throes of passion, he was protecting me. Protecting us.
"I love you," I whispered.
He lifted his head, his golden eyes locking with mine. "I love you too. More than anything."
The second climax hit us simultaneously, a blinding wave of pleasure that left us clinging to each other as the world spun away. He buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, filling me again with his release. My body milked him, drawing out every last drop, until finally we both collapsed, spent and trembling.
---
The room was quiet now, save for our synchronized breathing.
We lay tangled in the sheets, limbs heavy and sated. The lamp on the bedside table cast a warm, golden glow over the room, softening the harsh edges of reality.
Chase lay on his side, holding me against him. We were both naked, skin cooling in the night air. His arm was draped over my waist, pulling me flush against his chest, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my back.
He shifted slightly, turning me to face him. His hand cupped my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple, and then he lowered his head, taking it into his mouth. He sucked gently, lazily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. It wasn't sexual anymore—it was comfort. Intimacy. A silent claim.
I ran my fingers through his dark hair, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against mine.
He pulled back, his lips wet and swollen, his eyes soft as they met mine.
"We're going to figure this out," he said quietly, his hand moving to rest over my heart. "Owen. Matthias. Whoever is behind them."
He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips—soft, tender kisses that made my chest ache.
"I will help you investigate," he promised, his voice steady and sure in the quiet dark. "We'll do it together."
And for the first time in a long time, lying there in his arms, I believed we actually could.