"Less talking." I drag my new claws down his chest, leaving red lines on skin already marked with battle wounds. "More fucking."
His mouth finds my throat, the swell of my breasts, traces the curve where our children grow before his hands turn demanding. When his fingers push inside me I keen—a sound that's not entirely human anymore, echoing off broken walls. Pleasure spikes through me sharp enough to steal my breath.
"So wet." He pumps deeper, curling against the spot that makes stars explode. "So ready. Fuck, Kess, you're dripping."
"Need your cock." I'm writhing against his hand, chasing the pleasure coiling tight at the base of my spine. "Need your knot. Please?—"
He withdraws his fingers and I sob at the loss.
Then he's positioning himself between my thighs, careful of my belly even now, the blunt head pressing against my entrance. He feels enormous. Impossible. It's been weeks and my body has changed and?—
"Now."
He drives into me in one brutal thrust.
The stretch is catastrophic. Even slick-wet and desperate, the fullness borders on pain. He's so deep I feel him in my throat. So thick I don't know where I end and he begins. My claws sink into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood.
But god, it feels good. The stretch, the fullness, the way he fills every empty aching part of me. My cunt clenches around him and pleasure ripples outward, making my toes curl.
"Move." I gasp it against his shoulder. "Rhystan,move."
He moves.
Not gentle. Not careful. He fucks me like he's been starving for it—because he has, we both have. Each thrust drives the air from my lungs. The stone floor is cold beneath my back and he's burning hot above me, braced on his arms to protect my belly, but his hips are merciless.
I'm moaning with every stroke. Can't help it. Can't stop the sounds spilling out as pleasure builds and builds. My pregnancy has made everything more sensitive—nipples aching, clit throbbing, inner walls swollen and desperate. Every time he bottoms out I see stars.
"Fuck—yes—right there—" The words tumble out broken. "Don't stop?—"
I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him deeper. Bite his shoulder the way I did during our first claiming, fangs that are sharper now sinking in until blood floods my mouth. He shudders and his rhythm falters.
The knot.
I feel it swelling at the base of his cock—subtle at first, then more pronounced with every thrust. Catching on my entrance. Getting bigger.
"Yes." I clench around him, dragging a groan from deep in his chest. "Knot me. Fill me up."
"Kess—" My name breaks apart in his mouth.
He drives forward and the knot catches. Too big. Getting bigger. Each thrust pops it in and out, the stretch bordering on unbearable, the pleasure so intense it circles back to pain.
Then he slams home and the knot locks into place.
I scream.
The stretch is impossible—I'm being split apart, filled past capacity. My inner walls clamp around the knot so tight I feel my own pulse pounding against it. Too much. I can't take it.
The orgasm detonates without warning.
White-hot. All-consuming. My back arches off the stone, my claws tear bloody furrows down his back, my transformed throat produces sounds that aren't human anymore. My cunt convulses around his knot—clenching, milking—and I feel him break.
He roars. Dragon, not human. The sound reverberates through the ruined throne room as he spills inside me. I feel every pulse. Every hot flood pumping deep while the knot keeps everything sealed. My belly distends with how much there is.
We collapse together.
Both gasping. Both trembling. The knot locked solid inside me, his cock still twitching, my walls still rippling in diminishing waves.
His forehead presses against mine.
