The sound she makes is half-shout, half-sob of pure relief. The bedframe creaks in protest. I set a brutal, driving pace from the first stroke, giving her exactly what she asked for. What we both need. There’s no gentle lovemaking here, not tonight. This is claiming. This is fire meeting fire.
Her nails rake down my back, leaving streaks of heat that only fuel my hunger. Her body clenching around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper still. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, raw and rhythmic, a symphony of our shared need. Her legs lock around my hips, her heels digging into my flesh, urging me on.
“Harder,” she gasps, her voice breaking on the word, and I oblige, slamming into her with a force that makes the bed groan and her cry out.
Her body arches beneath me, her tits pressed against my chest, her nipples hard and begging for attention. I lower my head, biting down on her shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough to mark her. To remind her who’s claiming her. She moans, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. The bond is alive with sensation—her pleasure, her desperation, her absolute surrender to me, and my own possessive greed for every inch of her.
“Look at me,” I growl, my voice rough with need. Her eyes fly open, and they’re dark, bottomless pools of fire. In them, I see the abyssal glow flickering in the depths, answering the heat on my own. The sigils on our chests blaze brighter, casting a pulsing light across our sweat-slicked skin. She’s flawless like this, wild and untamed, her hair fanned out around her, her lips parted as she gasps for air.
“You’re mine,” I snarl, the words torn from somewhere deep and primal inside me. “Say it.”
“Yours,” she gasps, her voice breaking as I thrust into her again, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her scream. “Only yours.” Her words send a rush of satisfaction through me, fierce and unrelenting.
“Feel how you take me,” I mutter, my voice dark and filthy. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Like you were made for me.”
“I was,” she pants, her nails still digging into my back. “All of me, yours to ruin, yours to fuck.”
Her words set me on fire. I pound into her harder, faster, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the room. She’s so close. I can feel it through the bond. I slide a hand between us, finding her clit, and rub rough circles against it.
“Come for me, princess,” I rasp. “Let me feel you fucking come.”
She screams, her body trembling violently as her climax hits. Her pussy clenches around me like a vise, and that is all it takes for me.
With a final, deep thrust, I bury myself as far as I can go and let go. My own release roars through me, hot and endless, and I pour myself into her with a groan that’s more demonic rumble than human sound. For long moments, there is nothing but the two of us, fused together, shaking through the aftershocks as the bond sings with a profound, satiated hum.
Slowly, the world filters back in. The rough blanket beneath her. The cool night air on my back. The frantic hammering of our hearts gradually slowing to a synchronized rhythm.
I collapse beside her, pulling her with me so she’s sprawled half on top of my chest. We’re a mess of sweat and spent and tangled limbs. She nuzzles into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin. My hand strokes slowly down the smooth, damp skin of her back.
I feel the exact second her breathing evens out, her body going soft and heavy against mine. Content. Sated.
My lips curve against the crown of her head.
“I’m not done with you,” I rumble, my voice still rough from use.
She lifts her head, her eyes drowsy and amused. “You’re not?”
“No.” I shift beneath her, rolling her onto her back again and rising up on one elbow to look down at her. She’s a fucking vision—flushed skin, lips swollen from my kisses, my bite marks darkening on her shoulder. The glow of her sigil paints her breasts in soft, pulsing light. “That was just the beginning, princess.”
Her brow arches. “The beginning? I feel like I’ve been thoroughly claimed.”
“You have.” I lean down, nipping at her lower lip. “But claiming isn’t a one-time event. It’s a constant reminder.” My hand slides down her stomach, through the slick mess we made between her thighs. She gasps, her hips twitching. “And you’re still dripping with me. I can smell it on you. I can feel it on my skin.”
Her breath hitches as my fingers circle her sensitive clit. “Threx…”
“We’re covered in sweat and come,” I say, my voice dropping to a dark, possessive growl. “I want you clean. I want to wash my scent off you just so I can put it back on again.”
A shiver runs through her. The bond sparks with fresh, eager heat. “How…”
I sit up, pulling her with me. “Come here.”
I stand, lifting her easily into my arms. She lets out a small, surprised sound, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. I carry her a few steps to the small washroom attached to the inn room. It’s little more than a closet with a stone drain and a copper pipe overhead with a pull-chain.
I set her on her feet, but keep one arm banded around her waist, holding her against me. With my free hand, I yank the chain.
Cold water sprays down, shocking a yelp from her. But within seconds, it runs warm, then hot, thanks to some simple enchantment in the pipes. Steam begins to fill the small space, curling around our naked bodies.
The water cascades over her shoulders, plastering her hair to her skin, running in rivulets down the valley between her breasts. She tips her head back, letting it sluice over her face. I watch, my cock already hard again and pressing insistently against her stomach.
