He shifts again, aligning our bodies. The head of his cock notches at my entrance. I am wet from my orgasm, but I know it won’t be enough.
“Vel,” he grits out, the word a raw, possessive snarl. Mine.
He pushes forward.
It’s a slow, relentless pressure. A stretch that burns. My body resists, a panicked clench of muscle. He is too big.
“Shhh, narai,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Open for me. Your body was made for me.”
He doesn’t stop. The pressure increases, a steady, inexorable force. I feel myself giving way, inch by painful, pleasure-filled inch. He has to force it. Has to work himself into me. The sheer dominance of it, the possessive control, is overwhelming.
A cry is torn from my lips as the widest part of him breaches me. A sharp, stinging pain that melts into a deep, full ache.
He stills, letting me adjust. Letting my body stretch to accommodate him. The feeling of being so completely, utterly filled is intoxicating. Terrifying.
“You are tight,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. “So tight for your Kai.”
He leans down, and I feel the scrape of his fangs against the sensitive skin of my throat.
“You will take all of me,” he whispers. “And you will beg for more.”
Then he begins to move.
A slow, deep retreat, followed by another forceful thrust. Each one drives him deeper, claiming more of me, until he is seated to the hilt, fully sheathed inside me.
The sensation is staggering. A fullness so complete it steals my breath. He is everywhere. Inside me. Over me. Around me. His scent fills my lungs. His heat sears my skin. His strength pins me down.
He starts a rhythm then. A slow, powerful rocking of his hips that grinds him deep within me.
The furs are a soft bed beneath us, but the world outside the tent has faded to nothing. There is only this. Only him. Only the firelight and the raw, elemental connection between us.
He is watching me.
I can feel the weight of his gaze in the dark, a focused, predatory intensity that makes my skin tingle. He is studying every reaction, every flicker of pleasure and pain that crosses my face.
My hands clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. He is so big, so solid.
His rhythm changes. Becomes faster. Harder. The friction is delicious. A building storm of sensation that threatens to consume me.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a low growl.
I force my eyes open, trying to focus on his face in the dim light. I can’t see the details, but I can feel the power coiled in him. The barely leashed restraint.
“That’s it,” he says, his hips snapping forward, driving into me with a force that steals my breath. “Watch me take you.”
His words are a dark, potent magic. They unlock something deep inside me, a primal submission that I never knew I possessed.
I am no longer Keandra from Mars.
I am Narai. His mate.
And I am being claimed.
He shifts his angle, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes me cry out. A place so sensitive it borders on pain.
He finds it again. And again.
He is relentless. A precision strike of male power designed for one purpose: my pleasure. He is playing my body like an instrument, and I am completely at his mercy.
