Titus wrapped her long hair in his fist, bending her back. “Since when were you allowed to make demands?” he whispered against her ear. “You’ll get whatever I give you.”
She released a sound between a growl and moan, wiggling against him. She was ferocious, chest moving with shallow breaths. He was losing it, the demand to take her growing, his beast insistent about solidifying their union.
He was mated to her, the bond there, a connection that had snapped taut between his soul, and hers well before he’d accepted it. Except she couldn’t feel it, feel him. It was driving his beast to violence, fur pressing beneath his skin.
Releasing his erection, he hissed out a breath at the zipper’s teeth biting against his swollen flesh. He’d never been so hard, the entire length throbbing as he pressed it between her legs, rubbing his cock along her glistening slit. His head knocked against her clit, his piercings cold against her hot. She stilled at every touch, her body absorbed by the sensations.
“Mine,” he said, pinching her nipple tightly between his fingers. “Tell me, Rae.”
He slipped his hips back, teasing her entrance with just the tip. He knew the piercing felt good, especially when he angled his hips a certain way, making sure each stroke rubbed against her g-spot. It could bring a woman to orgasm within minutes, but his goal wasn’t to let her come. Not until she was a wet mess. Not until she begged.
She tried to thrust back, and he chuckled, dropping a kiss against her shoulder. She wouldn’t be Rae if she’d submitted so easily. But when she did, it was a fucking gift. One he intended to thank her for, over and over.
He sunk an inch deeper, listening to her whimper as she stretched around him. He tightened his grip on her hair, angling her head to better wrap his spare hand around her throat, feeling her pulse react to his rough touch.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he whispered against her, pulling his hips back, only to sink slightly deeper inside. “And it’s all mine.” His piercing scraped against her delicate spot, her breathing rapid as he did it again, and again. “Let anybody else touch you,” he said to her fevered flesh, her body quivering as it waited to take his entire cock. “And I’ll kill them.”
He sunk to the hilt, her scream of pleasure placating his beast, at least for that moment. He wasn’t gentle, not giving her another chance to get used to his size before he began moving, the zipper of his jeans cutting into her sensitive skin on every thrust, adding a little bit of pain. He’d never been held so tight, her body made to fit his.
“Say it,” he said, feeling the first ripple of her impending orgasm. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours!”
He waited until she teetered on the edge of bliss before pulling out, releasing her throat and hair at the same time. She fell forward with a cry, hands slapping down onto the mattress. “Titus!”
He loved her like this, hair a mess from where he’d pulled, her face flushed and lips parted. Her thighs were slick with her need, pussy swollen, and there was already a slight mark from his palm. He stroked against the blossoming bruise, knowing he wanted to do it again. Harder. But not then, not when he didn’t have the right aftercare.
He had to rip the rest of the denim off, wary of the bandage that still wrapped around his thigh. He palmed his cock, stroking down the length as she pressed her legs together, seeking the final touch for her release. She watched his hand move with a hungry expression, and he had to squeeze to stop himself from coming.
“When you come, it’s with your eyes on me.” He wanted to see how beautiful she was when she finally broke apart around his cock.
Pulling her back down the bed, he hooked her legs over his arms, opening her to him. She stretched her arms up over her head just like he’d pinned her before, a knowing smile curving her lips.
Bending her in half, his cock so close to where she needed it, he whispered against her lips. “Good girl.”
He gave her no warning before he thrusted, her pussy taking him whole. He watched her every expression, felt every twitch of muscle, and gentle ripple around his cock. His hips pistoned in a brutal rhythm, angled perfectly with every lunge. He knew exactly what she wanted, her moans and cries telling him what her body needed.
Her body seized beneath him, her scream cut off from how tight she clenched. She drenched his thighs, the stupid fucking pink bandage and the bed, and still he didn’t slow, drawing out her orgasm until she’d found her voice once more. There was no stopping, not until he’d forced at least one more out of her before giving into his.
“Please,” she managed to push out, her cries primal as she accepted every inch, and still her pussy begged for more.
“Fucking beautiful.” Dropping her legs, he moved to kiss her in a clash of lips and teeth. He pressed a thumb over her clit, chasing the second orgasm straight after the first. His own release coiled at the base of his spine, and only once she’d pulled back, screaming into his ear, did he finally allow himself to fill her.
* * *
The sight of Gerald bleeding, face a mess of swollen flesh and dark bruises would’ve usually pleased him. Except he’d left his naked mate upstairs in bed.
“Let’s try this again,” he said, holding the hammer between his hands. “Who hired you to kill Rae?”
Gerald coughed, the sound wet. Probably from the collapsed lung. “I’ve told you all I can, I can’t say anymore.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” Marshall asked, smoke from his cigarette billowing over. “Because the night’s young, and we haven’t even gotten to the fun equipment yet.”
The first thing Titus had discovered was that Marshall gave no shits. He’d happily tortured the witch without a second of hesitation. He’d also realised that after he’d pissed himself, that Gerald wasn’t likely to talk.
“Can’t!” Gerald cried, saliva and blood dripping from his cut lips. “Please, I can’t. If I go to say anything, it doesn’t come out!”
Marshall leaned over, pressing the heat of his cigarette to the end of his nose. Gerald screamed, wrists pulling at the metal cuffs attached to the chair. Surging forward he puked, emptying his stomach onto his own shoes. Puke and piss, just two of the reasons Titus never enjoyed interrogation.
