Page 11 of Claimed By the Forest Reaper

And god, I want him to.

He reaches out, tracing a path from my collarbone to my navel. I shiver under his touch, goosebumps rising in its wake. His hand cups my breast, testing its weight. His thumb flicks over my nipple, and I gasp, arching into his palm.

A low sound escapes him—half groan, half growl. He dips his head, capturing the stiff peak between his lips. His tongue swirls, his teeth graze, and I cry out, clutching at his hair. He sucks harder, pulling a moan from deep within me.

His free hand trails down my stomach, circles my navel, then dips lower. He cups my mound, one finger sliding through my folds. I'm wet, embarrassingly so, but he seems pleased. His finger circles my clit, spreading moisture, drawing out a whimper.

He lifts his head, releasing my nipple with a pop. His eyes are wild, feral. "Mine," he rasps again, voice barely human.

"Yours," I agree, breathless.

His finger slides inside me, and I gasp. It's cool, invasive, and not nearly enough. I rock against his hand, seeking more friction. He adds a second finger, stretching me. It's almost too much, but not quite. Not yet.

"More," I demand.

He growls, a sound of frustration and desire. He wants to give me more, but he's afraid. Afraid of hurting me. Afraid of losing control.

"You won't hurt me," I say, looking into his eyes. "I trust you."

Something shifts in his gaze. A decision made. He withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty, aching. But only for a moment. Then he's there, filling the void, his cock pressing against my entrance.

I freeze, eyes widening. He's… big. Too big. There's no way this is going to work.

He pauses, concern etched on his face. He's felt my hesitation, and he won't go further unless I'm sure.

"It's too much," I whisper, half apology, half fear.

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle despite the tension thrumming through him. He leans down, resting his forehead against mine. His breath mingles with mine, our heartbeats syncing.

"We go slow," he murmurs. His voice is rough, strained, but there's a tenderness there too. A promise.

I nod, trusting him. Trusting this.

He pushes forward, just an inch. I gasp at the intrusion, my body struggling to accommodate him. He pauses, giving me time to adjust. His hands stroke my back, soothing, calming.

Another inch. Another gasp. Another pause. It's a dance, a negotiation. He advances, I yield. He pushes, I stretch. Until finally, impossibly, he's fully sheathed inside me.

I look up at him, panting, eyes watering. He looks back, jaw clenched, muscles trembling. We're both on the edge, both holding on by a thread.

"Move," I whisper.

He does. A slow withdrawal, then a smooth thrust. In and out, each movement deliberate, controlled. Pleasure builds, a steady simmer. It's not enough, not yet, but it's a start.

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He growls, picking up speed. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he drives into me. The simmer becomes a boil, the boil an inferno. I'm close, so close…

He pauses, breathing ragged. His cock pulses inside me, swelling. I feel it—the knot, a thickening at the base of his shaft. It presses against my opening, seeking entry.

"Don't stop," I beg, desperate.

He shakes his head, eyes wild. He's afraid. Afraid of the knot, afraid of hurting me.

"Please, Kaelith," I plead. "I need this. I need you."

A shudder runs through him. His grip tightens, and he thrusts forward, forcing the knot inside me. I scream as it pops in, filling me completely. Pleasure mixes with pain, the line between them blurring. I can feel him, every inch, every pulse. We're locked together, bound.

He looks down at me, awe in his eyes. His hand strokes my cheek, gentle, reverent. Then he starts to move again, slow and careful. Each thrust nudges the knot, sending jolts of pleasure through me. It's intense, overwhelming. Almost too much.

Almost.