Chapter 98 ROGUE'S CLAIM 2

Chapter 98 ROGUE'S CLAIM 2
ROGUE'S CLAIM 2

LILA’S POV

The next day breaks gray and drizzly, rain pattering on the leaves outside the cave mouth. I wake up, wrapped in furs, Draven’s heavy arm draped over my waist, his chest pressed to my back. His scent is everywhere—deep in my lungs, soaked into my skin. I shift slightly, feeling the sticky remnants of last night between my thighs, the memory of his cum coating me making heat pool low again.

He stirs immediately, his arm tightening possessively. His cock is hard against my ass—morning wood, thick and hot even through the fur. He growls low in his throat, his nose burying in my hair, inhaling deep.

“Morning, little one,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

I turn in his arms, facing him. His gold eyes are half-lidded, dark hair tousled, beard scruffy. He looks dangerous and delicious.

“Morning,” I whisper, my hand tracing the scar on his chest.

His hand slides down my side, cupping my bare hip. “Sleep okay?”

I nod, biting my lip. The ache is back, worse after tasting him last night. My body craves more.

He feels it. His nostrils flare, his eyes darkening. “Your scent… it's stronger today.”

I press closer, my breasts brushing his chest. “Because I want you.”

He groans, rolling me onto my back, hovering over me. His mouth finds my neck, sucking the spot he marked yesterday. His hand slides between my thighs, finding me wet again.

“So ready,” he mutters, his fingers stroking my folds slowly. “But we can’t stay here. That pack will come looking.”

Reality crashes in. I nod, even as his touch makes me arch.

He withdraws reluctantly, standing to dress, pulling on dark pants and a worn shirt from a hidden stash in the cave. He tosses me clean clothes—his, too big, but soft.

We eat quickly, dried meat and berries he has stored, then pack light. He shoulders a bag, leading me out into the drizzle.

We move fast through the forest, his long strides eating distance. I struggle to keep up, but he slows when I lag, his hand on my lower back guiding me.

By midday, the rain stops. We reach a small clearing with a stream. He kneels to refill a canteen, his muscles flexing under his wet shirt.

I watch, heat building again. I strip off the oversized shirt, standing in just his pants rolled at the waist, my breasts bare.

He looks up, his eyes flashing. “What are you doing?”

“Cooling off,” I say innocently, walking to the stream. The water is cold, shocking my heated skin as I wade in to my thighs.

He stands, his shirt clinging, his cock already tenting his pants.

I cup water, letting it trickle down my chest, over my nipples. They harden instantly.

He growls, stalking to the bank. “You’re asking for trouble.”

I smile, backing deeper. “Come get me.”

He strips fast. His shirt off, his pants shoved down, and he wades in. The water reaches his waist, his cock hard and jutting.

He catches me easily, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me against him. Cold water, hot skin. Perfect contrast.

His mouth claims mine, deep, and possessive. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. His cock presses against my core, sliding through my folds.

He walks us to shallower water, sitting on a smooth rock so I straddle him. Water laps at our waists.

His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples slowly. I rock against him, feeling his hardness tease my clit.

He sucks one nipple into his mouth, a hot, wet suction that makes me moan loud in the empty forest. His teeth graze, his tongue soothing.

I grind harder, chasing friction. His hand slides between us, his fingers stroking my clit in tight circles.

My pleasure builds, slow, and steady. My belly tightens, my thighs clenching around him.

He switches breasts, sucking harder, his fingers speeding.

I come hard, waves crashing over me, my pussy fluttering, juices mixing with the stream.

He holds me through it, his mouth on my neck.

But he doesn’t enter me.

We dry on the bank, sun breaking through clouds. He dresses me gently, but his eyes promise more.

By dusk, we reach another hideout, a small cabin deep in the woods, abandoned but stocked.

He builds a fire in the hearth, the flames dancing. We eat the rabbit he caught and cooked, sitting close on the fur rug.

The heat between us is unbearable now.

I straddle him by the fire, my dress riding up. His hands grip my thighs, his cock hard beneath me.

I rock slowly, grinding. “Touch me.”

He groans, his hands sliding under the dress, cupping my bare ass. His fingers trace my crack, teasing my entrance.

I kiss him deep, and slow. His tongue strokes mine as his fingers circle my clit again.

He lays me on the rug, his mouth descending, kissing down my body, spreading my thighs wide.

His tongue licks me slow and long, flat strokes from entrance to clit. He savors, humming at my taste.

I grip his hair, his hips rocking.

He teased me hard, light flicks, then deep thrusts of his tongue. He added his fingers, two, then three, stretching me.

He teaches me, showing me how to ride his face. I straddle his mouth reverse, grinding down as he licks and sucks.

The angle is so damn perfect, his nose against my clit, his tongue fucking me deep.

I ride him harder, chasing another orgasm.

He grips my ass, guiding, his fingers teasing my back entrance lightly.

Pleasure coils tight in my belly, clenching, my thighs shaking.

I come hard, squirting on his tongue, my juices flooding his mouth.

He drinks me down, licking me until I collapse.

He flips me, his cock rubbing my thigh, but still doesn’t enter.

“Soon,” he promises, his voice hoarse.

We sleep tangled by the fire, my cum from eating me out sticky between us, my body aching for full claim.

God, I couldn't explain it. I need him so bad, I need him to touch me. To fuck me.