Chapter 25 Traces of Last Night
Sienna
It wasn’t like the toy. Not even close. The toy was just cold, stiff silicone, but this was living heat and iron-hard muscle. This was him.
He filled that aching emptiness inside me perfectly, but the feeling was different—a deep, burning stretch that felt like it was finally right. It was painfully full and so intense it made my head spin, but it wasn't that sharp, tearing pain I’d been scared of.
My body completely betrayed me, welcoming him in and squeezing around him with a pulse that made us both groan out loud.
I bit down on my lower lip to stifle another cry, tasting the coppery tang of my own blood. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He was impatient, a caged beast finally unleashed.
He pulled back almost completely, then plunged back in, setting a fast, punishing rhythm from the very start.
The friction was incredible, a brutal massage against my skin that was already so sensitive from everything else he'd done. He hit a spot deep inside me that the toy couldn’t reach, a place that sent jolts of pure pleasure straight to my core.
“Sev, please… no more…” I pleaded, the words a sobbing contradiction. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to break me.
He didn’t kiss me. Instead, he dropped his head to my chest, his mouth closing over one of my throbbing nipples. He licked it, soothing the sting from the metal clamp, but then he bit down—hard.
A sharp, bright sting shot through me, blending right into the deep, pounding pleasure between my legs. I cursed, loud and filthy, my head thrashing against the pillows.
One of his hands left my waist, sliding through the wet mess between us. His thumb found my clit, swollen and exposed, and began to circle it in time with his thrusts.
It was too much. The dual assault—the deep, relentless penetration, the expert torture of my nipple, the precise stimulation on my clit—built a pressure in me that made me want to explode.
My pleas dissolved into messy, sobbing cries as I felt my body tightened, coiled, and then splintered apart in a second, more violent climax.
My scream echoed in the room as I convulsed around him, my inner muscles milking his length in rhythmic spasms.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow. He rode out my orgasm, his thrusts becoming even harder, more frantic, as if my climax was fuel to his fire.
With a grunt, he pulled out of me completely. Before I could process the loss, his hands were at my wrists, unbuckling the cuffs. My arms fell, numb and heavy, to my sides.
“Turn over,” he growled, his voice thick with strain.
He didn’t wait for me to move; he basically manhandled me.
Pushing my spent body onto my stomach, he hooked his hands under my hips and hauled them up, leaving me on my knees, my ass in the air, my face pressed into the sheets.
He positioned himself behind me again, one hand holding my waist in a strong grip, the other guiding himself back into my soaked, thoroughly stretched entrance.
This angle was deeper, more invasive. He sank into me with a groan that was almost pained, reaching a depth that stole my breath. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, raising my hips higher to take him even deeper.
The slapping sound of his skin against mine filled the room, a wet, primal beat.
His hand on my waist tightened, his nails digging into my skin. I felt a sharp, stinging impact—a slap on the curve of my ass. The shock of it, the bite of pain mixed with the overwhelming penetration, made me gasp and clench around him tightly.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his control fraying.
His rhythm became erratic, brutal. I felt him swell even thicker inside me. With a final, deep thrust that pinned me to the bed, he buried himself to the root and stayed there.
A groan tore from his throat as he came, his release pumping into me in hot, pulsing jets.
But he wasn’t finished. As the last pulses faded, he pulled out, his hand stroking himself quickly. I felt the hot, wet splatter across the small of my back as he spent the last of his release onto my skin.
Then, there was only silence and the sound of our heavy breathing.
Every bit of strength left my body. My hips collapsed, and I slumped face-down into the bed, the wetness between my thighs and on my back cooling down fast.
Exhaustion, total and complete, pulled me under into a deep, dreamless sleep before I could even form another thought.
I woke up feeling sore in places I didn’t even know could ache, especially down there. I sat up fast, looking around the room. It was bright now, the sunlight showing off everything—including two other doors I hadn’t even noticed in the dark last night.
The room was spotless. There wasn't a single trace of what had happened, no evidence of the mess or the toys. It was like it had all been a dream, until I let my hands slide over my face and felt the heat in my cheeks.
I’d passed out. Again.
For a second, I felt a stab of disappointment, thinking we could’ve done more if I’d stayed awake, but that feeling was quickly replaced by a rush of excitement. My heart started thumping against my ribs.
We actually did it. And it was fucking incredible.
A smile crept onto my face as I kicked the blanket aside. I traced the bruises he’d left behind—on my wrists, my breasts, and my waist. His marks were everywhere, like he’d branded me. I didn't regret a single second of it.
I bit my lip and hopped out of bed, but my legs wobbled the second my feet hit the floor.
“Shit,” I hissed at the sharp throb in my core.
He definitely wasn’t gentle, but it wasn't like I hated it. Honestly? I loved it.
The door swung open suddenly, and I scrambled to pull the blanket back over myself.
“Glad you’re awake, Miss.”
Heat crawled up my neck the second I saw Jordan standing there. “Wh-why are you here?” I stammered, clutching the blanket like my life depended on it. This felt way too much like getting caught by a parent.
Jordan just sighed. "It's my responsibility to see that the Alpha’s women are comfortable and provided for once they’ve woken up." He sounded bored, and that’s when I noticed the fresh clothes in his hands.
I froze for a heartbeat, the words the Alpha’s women stinging more than the bruises. But I shook it off. I’d promised myself I wouldn't care about the other girls anymore, and I meant it.
“Thank you,” I said, forced myself to walk over and take the clothes from him.
“Don’t worry, Miss," he added. “Whatever happens behind the Alpha’s doors stays there. I’m not in the habit of gossiping about his private affairs—or yours.”