Chapter 151
Lirael
He didn't need to be told twice. With one powerful thrust, he seated himself fully inside me, and we both cried out at the sensation—him at the tight, wet heat gripping him, me at the overwhelming fullness, the way he touched places inside me I hadn't known existed.
"Lira," he groaned, withdrawing slightly before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that was both gentle and desperate. "You feel—fuck, you feel perfect. So tight, so wet, so mine."
Moonlight streamed through the windows as he moved inside me, each thrust sending pleasure spiraling through my body, building higher and higher, and through the haze I heard him whisper, "I love you, my moonlight. My Lira. My everything."
And as my pleasure crested, as my body clenched around him and tears began to slip down my cheeks—those precious tears that crystallized into moon dew—I realized they weren't tears of pain or fear, but of something far more dangerous: the recognition that I'd fallen in love with the man who'd caged me, and now I was willingly giving him everything.
He kissed away each tear with reverence, licking the moon dew from my skin as his thrusts became harder, deeper, more desperate, and I felt myself building toward another peak, my body responding to his with an eagerness that should have shamed me but instead felt like coming home.
"Come for me again," he commanded, one hand sliding between us to stroke where we were joined, and the dual sensation of him inside me and his fingers on my clit sent me over the edge, my body convulsing around him as more tears fell, more moon dew for him to collect.
He followed me over with a roar, his release flooding me with heat as he buried himself as deep as possible, his body shuddering with the force of it, and I held him through it, held him as he collapsed against me, both of us trembling and gasping and utterly spent.
---
When awareness returned, I was boneless and exhausted, feeling him still semi-hard inside me, and Sebastian was holding me like I might disappear, pressing gentle kisses to every inch of my face—my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, my mouth.
"Stop," I mumbled weakly. "Enough already."
"Never enough," he countered, and I felt him twitch inside me, already beginning to harden again. "I'm going to kiss you every day for the rest of our lives. And make love to you every night."
He pulled back to look at me properly, still buried inside me, and I could feel our combined wetness beginning to leak out around him. "Lira," he said, voice serious. "Be my mate. Officially. Let me claim you in front of my people, make it clear to everyone that you're mine and I'm yours."
I blinked at him, exhausted brain struggling. "Are you... proposing? Right now? While you're still inside me?"
"Yes," he said simply, and I felt him pulse, felt myself clench in response. "I know we don't have a ring, I know this isn't romantic, but I can't wait another second. I want the world to know you're mine."
Tears—normal ones this time—began to well in my eyes. "This is the worst proposal ever," I managed, voice thick with tears and laughter. "You're supposed to plan these things, make them romantic, not just blurt it out after fucking me senseless."
"After making love to you," he corrected, withdrawing slightly before thrusting back in, making us both gasp. "And I'm not waiting. So what do you say? If I do this properly later, with a ring and flowers, will you say yes?"
I looked at him—really looked at this complicated, dangerous man who'd somehow become my world, who'd fought his own nature for the chance to keep me by his side, and who was currently still hard inside me and looking at me like I was his entire universe.
"Maybe," I said, watching his face fall before continuing with a small smile. "Ask me again when you've done it properly, and we'll see."
Hope blazed in his eyes and he clutched me tighter, beginning to move inside me again with slow, deliberate strokes. "That's as good as a yes," he declared. "You can't take it back now."
I wanted to argue, but he chose that moment to hit a spot inside me that made me cry out, and all thoughts of protest fled as he began making love to me again, slower this time, more tender, proving with his body what his words had declared.
---
Morning arrived with an insistent alarm, and I groaned as I tried to move, only to discover every muscle screaming in protest, that I ached everywhere—especially between my thighs where I could still feel the phantom fullness of him, could feel the soreness that came from being thoroughly claimed multiple times through the night.
"Turn it off," I mumbled.
"Mm, five more minutes," he murmured, and I felt his morning erection pressing against my ass, hard and ready despite how many times he'd already had me.
I forced my eyes open to see the clock. "Sebastian, it's almost noon! Let go!"
"Don't wanna," he said, one hand sliding around to cup my breast, thumb stroking my nipple to hardness. "Want to stay in bed with you all day. Want to be inside you again."
I shoved at him and he finally loosened his grip enough that I could try to stand, but the moment I did, my legs gave out, trembling from overuse and the pleasant ache between my thighs.
Sebastian caught me before I hit the floor, concern genuine even as I could feel him hard against my hip. "Careful. You need to take it easy."
"This is your fault!" I snapped, embarrassment making my voice sharp as I smacked his hand away. "You did this to me! You fucked me so many times I can barely walk!"
"You told me not to stop," he pointed out, smirk tugging at his lips as his hand slid down to cup my ass, squeezing. "In fact, I distinctly remember you begging for more, saying 'harder, Sebastian, please harder'—"
"Shut up!" My face was burning and I refused to meet his eyes as I carefully made my way to the bathroom, every step a reminder of what had happened, of how thoroughly he'd claimed me, of the wetness still leaking down my thighs from all the times he'd filled me.