Chapter 34 Begging For The Knot
Vuk Kael Lasković
Yesterday had been perfection.
I woke before dawn just to watch her sleep—my little moon tangled in white linen, skin flushed from the sun and from me, hair wild across the pillows, lips swollen from hours of my mouth on hers. She’d laughed more in one day than in all the months since I’d claimed her. Run naked into the sea. Begged me to fuck her against the rocks until her voice gave out. Fallen asleep on my chest with my knot still locked inside her, slick and seed leaking slow and warm between us.
I’d carried her to bed after the fourth round on the terrace, licked her clean under the stars, then taken her again—slow and deep—until she sobbed my name into the pillows.
She’d been happy. Free. Completely mine.
This morning, I slipped from the bed before the sun fully crested the cliffs. She stirred, murmured my name in her sleep, thighs rubbing together unconsciously. I pressed a kiss to her mating bite—still fresh and glowing—and forced myself to leave the room before I pinned her down and started the day buried inside her again.
I had plans.
The palace kitchen opened straight to the sea breeze. I arranged everything on the low terrace table: plates of ripe mango and figs dripping juice, warm pastries still steaming, chilled wine, a bowl of whipped cream I fully intended to lick off her skin later.
I was setting down the last glass when her scent hit me.
Not her usual moonlight and slick—sweeter. Thicker. Overwhelming.
Heat.
Her first true heat since the bond locked into place.
It slammed into me like hellfire to dry tinder—lunar blood, ripe and heavy, slick so abundant it perfumed the entire palace. My cock thickened instantly, knot throbbing at the base, fangs slicing through my gums hard enough to draw blood.
I smiled—slow, feral, fangs fully bared.
Footsteps padded softly behind me.
“Vuk?” Her voice was husky, edged with shy need she hadn’t fully recognized yet.
I turned.
She stood in the arched doorway wearing nothing but one of my black shirts—unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal the heavy curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the glistening trail of slick already shining on her inner thighs. Her silver eyes were wide, cheeks flushed, nipples tight and begging against the fabric.
She shifted, thighs pressing together, and another wave of that intoxicating scent rolled over me.
My grin widened.
She blinked. “What?”
I stalked toward her—slow, deliberate—letting her see exactly what her heat was doing to me: cock straining against loose linen trousers, veins glowing faint gold under my skin, eyes burning molten.
“You’re in heat, little moon.”
Her breath hitched. She glanced down at herself, then back up—shy, stunned, beautiful. “You noticed…”
“Yeah,” I growled, reaching her in three strides. I cupped her face, thumb dragging over her lower lip. “I can smell it all over you, my love. Your pretty little cunt is weeping slick so thick it’s running down your thighs. I can taste it on the air. It’s driving me fucking insane.”
She whimpered, leaning into my touch, pupils blown wide.
I kissed her—hard, filthy, fangs nipping her lip until she opened for me. My tongue stroked deep, claiming every moan she fed me.
She pulled back just enough to gasp, “Breakfast first.”
I laughed—dark and rough—against her mouth. “Trying to play civilized while your pussy is begging to be bred? Fine. Eat. But don’t think for a second I won’t be hard as steel the whole time.”
I led her to the table, pulled out her chair, then sat beside her—close enough that our thighs pressed together under the linen cloth.
She picked up a slice of mango, juice dripping down her fingers. Instead of eating it, she leaned over and held it to my lips.
I took it slowly—tongue swirling around her fingertips, sucking the juice clean, fangs grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver.
Her scent thickened. Slick glistened visibly on her inner thighs now.
She shifted in her seat, then—shy but determined—straddled my lap, the shirt falling open completely.
“I want to lead this time,” she whispered, cheeks burning but eyes steady. “Just… let me.”
I went still, cock throbbing painfully against her bare, dripping pussy. My hands settled on her hips, claws pricking lightly.
“Then lead, little moon,” I rasped, voice already shredded. “But if you’re going to ride me, do it properly. Make me beg. Make me cry for that tight, wet cunt. I want to be fucking ruined by you.”
Her breath caught. Then she smiled—small, wicked, Luna in full bloom.
She reached between us, freed my cock with trembling fingers, and stroked once—slow, teasing—from base to leaking tip, thumb swirling over the head.
I groaned, head falling back, hips jerking into her hand.
She rose up on her knees, positioned me at her entrance, and sank down inch by torturous inch—taking me slow, letting me feel every slick, clenching inch of her heat-swollen walls.
“Fuck,” I snarled, claws digging into her hips. “So wet—so goddamn tight—”
She bottomed out, grinding down until I was buried to the root, and stilled.
Then she started to move.
Slow rolls of her hips at first—sheer torture—lifting almost off me before sinking back down, over and over, her slick coating my balls, dripping onto the chair.
I growled nonstop, fangs bared, fighting not to thrust up and take control.
She leaned forward, breasts brushing my chest, and whispered against my ear, “You feel so good inside me… so thick… stretching my pussy just right…”
I shuddered, hands sliding to grip her ass, spreading her wider.
She picked up speed—riding me harder, faster, breasts bouncing, head thrown back as she chased her pleasure.
I was losing it.
“Please,” I groaned, voice breaking. “Faster—fuck—ride me harder, little moon. I need—”
She slammed down once—twice—clenching around me deliberately.
I roared, knot swelling fast, catching at her entrance.
She slowed again—cruel, perfect—grinding in filthy circles that dragged my knot against her rim without letting it breach.
“Beg,” she whispered, echoing my earlier words, voice trembling with power and need.
I broke completely.
“Please,” I snarled, head thrown back, claws shredding the chair arms. “Please let me knot you—breed you—fill this perfect, dripping cunt until you’re swollen with my seed. I’ll do anything—fuck—Maureen—please—”
She slammed down one final time, taking my knot with a wet, obscene pop.
We both screamed.
Her orgasm crashed first—walls crushing down in brutal pulses, slick gushing around the knot, soaking us both.
I followed instantly—roaring her name, hips jerking helplessly as I pumped rope after thick rope deep inside her, breeding her exactly like her heat demanded.
She collapsed forward onto my chest, trembling, whispering my name like a prayer.
I wrapped my arms around her, knot throbbing in time with her aftershocks, fangs grazing her shoulder.
“Good girl,” I rasped, voice utterly wrecked. “You made your devil beg.”
She laughed—soft, breathless—against my throat.
“You want more?” she whispered, voice husky and trembling with power, her slick walls clenching around my knot in a deliberate, teasing squeeze.
I nodded instantly, a desperate, wrecked smile splitting my face, fangs fully bared.
“Fuck yes,” I growled, hips jerking helplessly upward even though the knot locked us tight. “Give me everything, little moon. Ruin me.”
She laughed—low, filthy, triumphant—and rolled her hips in a slow, grinding circle that dragged my swollen knot against her rim from the inside. The sensation was pure torture; pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.
The Devil Alpha—three-hundred-and-fifty-year-old firstborn of Lucifer himself—was getting thoroughly, shamelessly fucked by his Luna.