Leila assured me that sex is fine, even vigorous shifter sex, and I pray to god that she’s right.
"You feel so fucking good," he growls against my ear, his free hand gripping my thigh, hitching my leg higher, allowing it to go deeper. The angle changes, and he hits a spot that makes my whole body clench, my breath catching. "Every time. Every fucking time."
My wrists strain against his grip, but he holds them firm, his mouth working down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. Every thrust drives the air out of me in sharp gasps. The headboard knocks against the wall but neither of us cares.
"Harder." The word leaves me before I can think about it, and he obeys, his pace brutal, his breathing ragged. I wrap my legs around his waist, my thighs shaking against his hips.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect for me. The one. The only one.”
He releases my wrists and flips me onto my stomach in one motion, pulling my hips up and pushing back inside me from behind. The change is devastating, deeper at this angle, and I bury my face in the pillow and moan.
Hand sliding up my spine, he grips the back of my neck and eases me upright until my shoulders rest against his chest, my body stretched, and my back arches dramatically with him still buried deep inside me.
In the mirror on the dresser opposite, my reflection stares back at me, flushed, looking thoroughly fucked, mouth open, with his huge frame behind me and his arm wrapped around my waist.
Looking like he owns me.
"Look at us," he murmurs against my ear, his eyes finding mine in the glass, amber and glowing. "See what you do to me."
He rolls his hips, and the slow, angled grind, his cock rubbing against the front of my channel, makes my head fall back against his shoulder. His hand slides from my waist to my breast, cupping, squeezing, his thumb circling my nipple while his other drops between my legs and finds my clit.
"That's it." His voice is gravel in my ear, forcing more shivers down my spine, my nipples tightening even more. "Watch."
My eyes lock onto the mirror. His slick fingers work between my thighs, his cock buried inside me, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each slow thrust. The build is devastating, pressure coiling tight and low.
"Beau, I'm going to come."
His eyes burn into mine. "Not yet."
He slows his hips, drawing it out, keeping me on the edge to torture me, showing me exactly how in control he is. His mouth finds the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, the bruise from the other night, and he presses his lips against it.
"Only when I tell you."
I whimper, and his arms tighten around me, reassuring me, letting me know he’s got this. Got me. In the mirror, his lips peel back from the mark, and his teeth are visible. They’re longer, sharper than before, canines extended.
“Don’t move,” he whispers, lips grazing my skin. He presses them against my neck, just enough pressure to dent the flesh, and the sting makes me gasp, more in anticipation than fear.
Beau doesn't bite. He waits, eyes locked on mine in the mirror, his hips still moving in that slow, torturous rhythm.
"Tell me you're sure."
I don’t even need to think about it. "I'm sure."
"Tell me you're mine, Lisa. Forever.”
There’s a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, and I feel his concern deep inside my chest. He needs to be certain.
"I'm yours. And I love you, Beau. Make us a family. Make us one." My voice is strong and steady as my hand reaches back and grips his hair. "Do it."
His hips drive up hard, his fingers pressing against my clit, and the orgasm slams through me so powerful, it leaves me breathless. At the peak of it, his teeth sink into the junction of my neck and shoulder, deep and deliberate, and the pain is bright and hot for only a single second before it's swallowed by a rush that has nothing to do with sex.
His heartbeat floods into my chest, a second pulse behind my own, now steady and strong. It has to be the bond. His bear is there, a warm, enormous presence pressing against the insides of my ribs, rumbling with a satisfaction so deep it shakes through me.
Not his words, not his thoughts. Just him.
Beau comes with his teeth still in me, his entire body shuddering, his arms crushing me against him, with a raw sound tearing out of his throat that rattles the mirror on the dresser and reverberates off the walls, sending another mini orgasm pulsing through me.
When his mouth releases the mark, his tongue traces the wound, soothing the sting, and his heavy breathing is ragged against my neck. His hand splays across my stomach, covering the place where our cub is growing, and his bear's pride deepens.
