CHAPTER 229
CHAPTER 229
AMARA
“Yes—yes—” I gasped, legs locking tighter around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper.
“Harder—Alaric—please—”
The sound that ripped from his throat was pure animal—actual snarl, wolf bleeding through every inch of him—and he gave me exactly what I begged for.
His pace turned punishing.
Hips snapping forward with brutal, relentless force, each thrust slamming into me hard enough to make my whole body jolt against the mattress.
The bed groaned under us, headboard thudding rhythmically against the wall like it was trying to keep time with the frantic beat of my heart.
The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin echoed through the room—obscene, perfect, intoxicating—mixing with my broken moans and his low, guttural growls until the entire space felt like it was vibrating with us.
His free hand slid between our bodies—rough palm dragging down my stomach—until his thumb found my clit again.
He rubbed tight, fast circles that matched the punishing rhythm of his thrusts, pressure perfect and merciless.
Every stroke sent lightning racing up my spine, coiling tighter and tighter in my belly until I was shaking, gasping, right on the razor’s edge.
Even as my body quaked around him—walls fluttering wildly, slick and hypersensitive—he kept going. Harder. Faster. Chasing his own release with single-minded ferocity, like the world outside this room had burned away and the only thing left was me beneath him, around him, his.
His teeth grazed my pulse point—sharp enough to sting, gentle enough not to break skin—then soothed the spot with slow, open-mouthed kisses that made me shiver all over again.
Every thrust rocked my body up the mattress, the headboard slamming rhythmically against the wall in time with his hips.
The wet, slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with our ragged breathing, my broken moans, his low, guttural groans.
I could feel every inch of him dragging out and slamming back in—thick, hot, relentless—hitting that spot inside me over and over until my vision blurred and my toes curled so hard they cramped.
My nails raked down his back—hard enough to leave marks, hard enough to make him snarl against my skin. My legs locked tighter, heels digging in, urging him deeper, faster, more.
Pleasure built like a tidal wave—fast, merciless, unstoppable—coiling so tight in my belly I thought I might shatter before he even let me fall.
“Alaric—” His name broke on a sob as he drove into me again, thumb never stopping its relentless circles on my clit.
“Come for me,” he growled against my throat.
“Let me feel you. Let me feel you come all over my cock—squeeze me—milk me—show me how much you need this.”
One more deep, punishing thrust—hitting that spot perfectly—and I shattered.
The orgasm hit like a tidal wave—body seizing, walls clenching hard around him, pleasure exploding behind my eyes in blinding white.
I screamed his name—raw, broken—nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood as wave after wave crashed through me.
Back bowing so sharply I nearly lifted off the mattress, every muscle locking and releasing in helpless rhythm as he fucked me through it, drawing out every tremor, every pulse, until I was shaking, sobbing, oversensitive and still begging for more.
He didn’t stop.
He kept going—harder, faster—chasing his own release now, face buried in my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point like he was fighting the urge to bite down and claim me forever.
“Fuck—Amara—” His voice was wrecked, broken, barely human.
“Gonna come—gonna fill you up—mark you inside and out—”
His hands gripped my hips like anchors, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, holding me exactly where he needed me as he drove forward one last time.
Deep.
Brutal.
All the way.
My body seized around him, milking every last drop as pleasure spiked through me once more, thighs trembling, toes curling, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave angry red lines.
He shuddered above me—whole body shaking—hips still pressed flush to mine as the last waves rolled through him.
His teeth sank into the curve of my shoulder—not breaking skin, just claiming—firm enough to sting, to mark, to remind me tomorrow exactly who I belonged to.
The sharp bite sent one final, trembling spark racing down my spine, making me clench around him again until we were both trembling, spent, utterly wrecked.
For a long, suspended moment he didn’t move—
I could feel the rapid thud of his heart against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of mine.
Sweat slicked our skin where we touched.
His hair was damp at the nape of his neck, strands sticking to my fingers where I still clung to him.
Slowly—carefully—he eased his weight off me
He braced himself on his forearms, caging me beneath him, and lifted his head just enough to look at me.
Sweat beaded along his brow, a single drop sliding down his temple. His lips were swollen, red from kissing, from biting, from everything.
“Fucking needed you so bad…” he whispered, voice hoarse and raw.
He kissed me then—slow, tender, nothing like the frantic, claiming heat from before. This kiss was gentle.
Like he was pouring every unspoken fear, every moment of terror from the day, into the soft press of his lips against mine.
I kissed him back just as slowly, fingers sliding into his hair, holding him close, letting him know I was here.
When he finally pulled back—just enough to let us both drag in a shaky breath—his lips hovered over mine, swollen and slick, breath hot against my skin.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled low against my ear.
“Huh?” I managed, dazed, half-laughing through the haze, my mind still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion.
“I want to fuck you again,” he said.
“Hard. Deep. Until you can’t walk tomorrow without feeling me in every step. Until every time you move, you remember exactly who you belong to.” His voice dropped lower, almost a snarl.
“Now get on top.”
Before I could even process the command, he rolled us in one smooth, powerful motion—muscles bunching under my palms as he flipped me over him.
I landed straddling his hips, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him, and the sudden shift forced a sharp gasp from my throat.
My hands flew to his chest for balance—palms flat against the hard, sweat-slick planes of his pecs—feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my fingers like it wanted to break free.
Alaric’s eyes locked on mine—dark, hungry, gold-flecked—and he pulled me forward by the hips until my knees settled more firmly on either side of his torso.
His hands slid up my thighs—slow, possessive—thumbs brushing the sensitive inner skin, guiding me exactly where he wanted while he watched my face like he was memorizing every flicker of pleasure and overwhelm.
I placed my shaking palms flat against his abs—feeling them flex and tighten under my touch, every ridge of muscle standing out in sharp relief—and slowly lowered myself further.
He gripped the base of himself with one hand, angling the thick head to rub through my slickness once, twice—coating himself in me, teasing my entrance—before nudging just inside.
I bit my lip hard as I sank down—inch by torturous inch—feeling every ridge, every vein, the stretch still intense even after everything we’d already done. My breath hitched.
My thighs quivered uncontrollably. It helped that I could control the pace, the depth—but god, he was thick, and I was already so swollen, so sensitive.
Halfway down I had to pause, breathing through the delicious burn, nails digging into his skin as I tried to adjust.
Alaric watched me the whole time—jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed, a low, continuous groan rumbling from his chest as I took more of him.
His hands flexed on my hips—not forcing, just holding—steady, possessive, thumbs stroking small circles that sent sparks racing up my spine.
I gritted my teeth and sank the rest of the way—taking him to the hilt in one final, determined drop.
A gasp tore from my throat—half pain, half blinding pleasure—and I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle it.
My whole body shuddered as I settled fully on his lap, feeling him throb deep inside me, filling me so completely I could barely breathe.
Alaric’s grip turned bruising—fingers digging into my hips as a throaty groan ripped out of him.
His abs contracted under my palms, hips jerking up once on instinct before he forced himself still.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked and reverent.
“So fucking tight—still so fucking perfect.”
I couldn’t stay still.
I needed more.
I braced my hands on his chest—feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms—and slowly lifted myself up, just enough to feel the drag of him sliding out, then sank back down in a careful, deliberate motion.
The friction was exquisite—slow burn, delicious stretch—and a soft moan slipped past my lips despite my best efforts to stay quiet.
Alaric’s eyes snapped open—dark, hungry, gold-flecked—and he watched me with an intensity that made my skin flush hotter.
“That’s it,” he rasped, voice rough.
“Ride me, baby. Show me how much you want it.”
I did.
I lifted again—higher this time—then dropped back down, setting a slow, rolling rhythm that made us both groan.
His hands stayed locked on my hips, not guiding, just holding—thumbs pressing into the soft skin above my hip bones, fingers splayed wide like he was anchoring himself to me.
Every time I sank down, he groaned low in his throat, hips twitching up to meet me like he couldn’t help himself.
The pace built gradually—my thighs burning, breath coming faster—as I found the angle that hit just right. I rolled my hips in small circles on the downstroke, grinding against him, feeling him press against every sensitive spot inside me.
Pleasure coiled tighter with each rise and fall, my clit rubbing against his pelvis on every descent, sending sparks racing up my spine.
“Fuck—Amara—” His voice cracked, hands flexing on my hips like he was fighting not to take over.
“You feel so good—so fucking good—”
I sped up—couldn’t help it—lifting and dropping faster now, the wet sound of our bodies meeting growing louder, more obscene.
My thighs trembled with the effort, but I didn’t care. I needed this—needed to feel him losing control beneath me, needed to feel him throb and twitch inside me with every downward stroke.
Alaric’s head fell back against the pillow for a second—throat working, Adam’s apple bobbing—before he snapped his gaze back to mine, eyes blazing.
“Harder,” he growled, voice wrecked.
“Ride me harder, baby. Take what you need.”
I obeyed.
I braced my hands on his chest—nails digging into his pecs—and started bouncing in earnest—fast, deep, relentless.
Each drop drove him all the way in, the head of him kissing my cervix with sharp, delicious pressure that made my toes curl and my breath hitch. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room again, louder now, mixing with my gasping moans and his low, guttural groans.
His hands slid up to grip my waist—helping me move, lifting me just enough on the upstroke before letting gravity slam me back down—until we found a brutal, perfect rhythm.
My thighs burned, my core ached, but the pleasure was overwhelming—building, building, spiraling higher with every punishing drop.
“Alaric—” His name broke on a sob as the coil inside me tightened unbearably.
“I’m—fuck—I’m close—”
“Come on my cock,” he snarled, hips snapping up to meet me on the next downstroke, driving even deeper.
“Let me feel you. Squeeze me—milk me—come for me, baby—”
One more hard drop—and I shattered.
His hands clamped down on my hips—bruising grip—and he thrust up one last time, burying himself deep as he came with a hoarse roar.
Hot pulses flooded me—endless, overwhelming—each one making my oversensitive walls flutter again, tipping me into a second, smaller orgasm that left me shaking, sobbing his name.
“Mine,” he whispered against my skin, voice wrecked and reverent.
“All fucking mine.”