Slave Mate of the Cursed Lycan King

"So hot… I need release…" The rough, guttural moans coming from the King’s chamber vibrated through the floorboards, dripping with a raw, carnal need that made my thighs clench involuntarily. I was just a servant, but the scent pouring from that room—musk, sweat, and overwhelming dominance—pulled me in like a moth to a flame. I pushed the door open. The Lycan King lay sprawled on the bed, his sheets tangled around his waist, barely hiding the massive tent of his arousal. He was writhing, his hips bucking unconsciously against the mattress, sweat slicking his magnificent, scarred chest. "AAAAHHHHHHH! I NEED HER!" He roared, his voice thick with lust and agony. I reached out, my trembling fingers brushing his burning skin. The shockwave was electric. His eyes snapped open—glowing a demonic red—and locked onto my heaving chest. "Mine," he growled. He yanked me down, crushing my soft body against his rock-hard erection. I gasped as I felt the thick, throbbing length of him pressing against my belly through our clothes. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent like a starving beast, his tongue dragging a wet, hot stripe up to my ear. "You smell like dessert," he rasped, his hand gripping my ass, grinding me harder against him. "Open for me." The sheer size of him terrified me, but my own body betrayed me, my core gushing wet heat in response to hisAlpha command. "MATE," he roared, his hips snapping up to dry-hump me with bruising force, promising that once he got inside, he would never pull out.