Chapter 91 Every Inch of You
[Nyx]
His grip on my hips tightened, and he thrust up hard, making me cry out. Set a punishing rhythm that had me gasping, clutching at his shoulders for balance as he drove into me again and again.
Through the bond, I felt everything—the tight, wet heat of my pussy clenching around him, the way my inner walls rippled with each thrust, the building pressure at the base of his spine as his orgasm approached.
And he felt me too. The exquisite friction of his cock stretching me. The way he hit that spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids. The coiling tension in my core winding tighter and tighter until—
We came together, his cum flooding into me as my pussy spasmed around him, milking every last drop.
---
We experimented.
Cold showers where he lifted me against the tile, my legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked me with water streaming between our bodies.
The kitchen counter at 3 AM, where I spread my legs and he knelt between them, his tongue working magic until I came so hard I saw white.
"You taste incredible," he murmured against my thigh, beard rough on sensitive skin. "Could do this for hours."
"Then do it," I gasped, threading my fingers through his hair.
He did. Made me come three more times with just his mouth before finally rising to slide his cock into my oversensitive pussy.
The floor of my study because we couldn't make it the extra ten feet to the couch. He took me hard and fast, my cheek pressed against the carpet, his hand fisted in my hair as he pounded into me from behind.
"Whose pussy is this?" he growled.
"Yours," I gasped. "All yours—fuck—don't stop—"
"Never," he promised, and I felt the truth of it through the bond.
The balcony again, this time with me bent over the railing in broad daylight. His fingers found my clit as he thrust deep, making me come so hard my legs gave out. He caught me, held me up, kept fucking me through the aftershocks.
"One more," he demanded. "Give me one more."
"I can't—" But my body was already responding, climbing toward another peak.
"You can." His voice was rough, commanding. "Come for me, Nyx."
I did, screaming his name into the mountain air.
---
By the time the heat finally receded— third morning, pale sunlight filtering through destroyed curtains—we were both wrecked.
I lay sprawled across his chest, too exhausted to move. My thighs were sticky with the evidence of two days of near-constant sex. My pussy ached in a way that was both satisfying and concerning. Every muscle in my body screamed protest.
His cock was finally, blessedly soft against my hip. His skin was covered in bite marks, scratch marks, bruises from my fingers digging in too hard.
"Jesus," I mumbled. "Did we actually survive that?"
His laugh was more of a wheeze. "Barely."
We were quiet for a long moment. Just breathing. Existing.
Then his hand moved to my stomach, palm pressing flat against my sweat-slick skin.
"You know we made a baby, right?"
My brain took several seconds to process the words. "...what?"
"Two days, Nyx. Every single time." His thumb traced circles on my belly. "I came inside you probably... what, thirty times? Forty? And you were in heat. Your body was designed to get pregnant."
I lifted my head to stare at him. "You—we—what?"
"Pretty sure that's how it works."
"Lysander." My voice came out strangled. "That's not funny."
"I'm not joking." But his eyes were soft, almost tender. "Feel it. Through the bond. You know I'm right."
And god help me, I did. Some instinctive part of me already knew. Could feel the tiny spark of life beginning in my womb, fed by two days of his cum flooding into me again and again.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "Oh my god, I'm—we're—"
"Yeah." He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We are."
Panic clawed up my throat.
"I need to get the pill," I blurted out.
His body went still. "What?"
"The morning-after pill. I need—Lysander, I'm nineteen." My voice came out higher than intended. "I can't—I'm not ready for a baby."
He sat up slowly, and I felt the shift in him through the bond. Hurt. Confusion.
"Nyx—"
"I know what you're thinking." I pulled the sheet tighter around myself. "But I don't know how to be a mother. I'm barely—" My breath caught. "God, I'm nineteen. Most she-wolves my age are still figuring out their lives, and I'm supposed to just... have a baby?"
"You won't be alone." His voice was rough.
"That's not the point!" The words burst out. "I'm not ready. I don't know how to take care of a baby. What if I'm terrible at it? What if I—" Tears pricked my eyes. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this."
Silence stretched between us. His jaw tightened.
"You should have told me." His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it.
"What?"
"Before." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "If you didn't want this, you should have told me before the heat. I would have been careful. I would have pulled out, or—fuck, Nyx, we could have used protection."
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't think to mention it?" His eyes flashed. "Two days, Nyx. I came inside you every single time because I thought—" He cut himself off, jaw clenched. "I thought we wanted the same thing."
Guilt twisted in my gut. "Lysander—"
"I would have been more careful." His voice cracked slightly. "If you'd just told me you weren't ready, I would have done things differently."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't think—during the heat, I wasn't thinking clearly—"
He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging.
"You're scared," he said finally, softer now.
"Of course I'm scared! I'm terrified." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I'm nineteen, Lysander. I'm still trying to figure out who I am, and now there's a whole other person depending on me?"
A long pause. Then he moved closer.
"Okay." His voice was gentler now. "Okay. If you need the pill, I'll get it for you."
"You will?"
"Yeah." His hand reached out, hesitated, then settled on my knee. "I'll go into town. Get whatever you need. And I'll be here after, if you get sick or—" He swallowed hard. "Whatever you need, Nyx."