His rough hand rests on the swell, possessive and proud.
I sully the bed below me with my repeated orgasms.
Spent, exhausted, and utterly gone over this man, I lean against him until his knot finally lowers enough to release us. As his dick slips out, his cum leaks out of me, and I feel the acute loss of it. He pushes me face down on the bed again.
“Fuck, look at how open you are for me,” he says, filling me with four fingers, then his thumb. “Baby, you’re so full of my cum…I would love to fist you right now.”
“Yes,” I whine into the mattress. He hesitates, so I flip up to face him, nodding, thrusting against him. “Please.”
Who is this shameless hussy?
He rumbles in my ear as he slowly works past my rim, and I feel every fucking knuckle. Shit, so good. He then works those same sinful knuckles against my poor abused prostate, twisting his fist. “Good, baby. Good. You’re so beautiful.”
“I feel like a sock puppet. Like a really satisfied sock puppet.”
He laughs, flexing his fingers as my cock revives. Settling in, he thrusts gently as he takes my dick into his mouth. I run my fingers through his hair, looking down on him in wonder.
My orgasm arches my spine and takes over my body, an electrical storm of sensation and emotion as he works my insides through oblivion. He’s so careful as he withdraws that I shed a few tears, red stains on my cheek. He kisses me silly as he thrusts two fingers in and out, patient as I tighten up again.
Walking me to the shower, he cleans me until every inch of my body is known to him. He’s gentle as he returns me to the bed, holding me so protectively, I can’t remember ever not belonging so fully.
We settle in even closer, and I fall asleep against my beautiful wolf, sore and used and completely lucky to know that he’s my person.
* * *
Wakingup alone is not my favorite thing, but I know Lazare is not far from me. It’s the first we’ve been able to be in separate rooms for any length of time since this all began.
Based on the sounds, everyone is back home and getting ready in their own rooms, save for Lazare and Eloy in the kitchen. I go to the bathroom and find my clothes, tossing them on and enjoying the smell of my wolf.
Sitting on the bed as I zip up my boots, I finally focus on the conversation in the kitchen.
“Why the fuck are you fucking him?” Eloy whispers, sounding annoyed.
I get up from the bed and open the door, waiting for Lazare’s response.
“Because he’s a good lay,” Lazare replies under his breath, his tone far too casual for what we experienced last night.
A familiar dread pools in my stomach.
“If you break him, his parents are not going to give us the money.”
I tilt my head at that. Lazare never told me that he knew about the reward.
“Would you shut the fuck up? You’re not my father. What I do with Remy is my own business.”
Oh.
That’s not a denial.
“Itismy business if you’re fucking up our shot at the ransom money.”
“Can’t a guy just get laid around here?Jeez.”
If Eloy’s answer tells me of their priorities, Lazare’s response tells me that I’m not one of them. He denies our mating bond but doesn’t deny that they’re looking for a cash grab from my parents.
Goddess. My hand goes to my belly as I remember how good it felt to be so full of him.This has only ever been about money for him.
That ribbon of light inside me is still there, bright as ever, but maybe it’s just a con. A bit of shady magic from Lillian’s own hands. I wonder if the guy they brought in for me to drain was in on it. I shiver when I think about what might’ve been in the poppers he had me sniff and wish I could take a thousand more showers.
