Page 35

The first hot spurt of his cum triggered my fourth orgasm.

My cunny locked around him, my inner muscles squeezing him as he pulsed inside me, his seed filling me in thick, scalding bursts. I came with a muffled cry against his huge palm, my body arching as the climax wrecked me, my vision swimming.

Maardok groaned, the sound long and low, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself inside me. His hand on my clit didn’t stop, drawing out every last tremor until I was boneless beneath him, my breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

His cock was still buried deep, still twitching faintly as the last of his release dripped from me. His arm was a heavy, possessive weight across my stomach, his breath warm against my neck. I could feel the steady, pounding thud of his heartbeat against my back, the way his muscles trembled with the aftermath of his own pleasure.

I should have been embarrassed to have lost control so thoroughly.

But all I felt was sated.

Claimed.

His.

With a soft, contented sigh, I let my eyes drift shut, my body still humming with the echoes of my release, my cunny still stretched by him. The last thing I remembered was the press of his lips against my neck, the murmur of his voice in my ear.

“Sleep, dkaar. I’ve got ye. I’ll always have ye.”

His.

CHAPTER NINE

Maardok

Something was wrong.

Well, gods below, everything was right, after that claiming. My Kteer thrummed in satisfaction to have finally spilled inside Cataline, but now? Now, despite my chest’s hum, I knew something else was wrong.

Desperately wrong.

After Cataline fell asleep in my arms, my cock slowly softened and I was able to pull from her, using my kilt to clean the remains of my seed as well I could with the awkward one-handed position in which I rested. I was already afraid we’d moved too much or made too much noise, and I’d have some awkward explaining to do with Ewan. But he never woke, nor did his mother, and I snugged her back into my arms after I pulled her skirts back into place as well as I could. My hand rested protectively over her distended stomach, and I fell asleep, content.

‘Twas near midnight, I reasoned, when that sense of wrongness woke me.

I lay in the darkness, senses tuned for marauders or wild animals or whatever had woken me, but I heard naught. It took me a moment to realize ‘twas Cataline’s breathing that was wrong.

The steady, peaceful pattern had been replaced by harsh gasps, and beneath my palm, I felt her muscles more tense than anything I’d felt before.

Experimentally, I tried to rub them, the way I had a few days before, but all that resulted in was Cataline’s breath wrenching out of her with a pained moan that had me thrusting myself up on one elbow.

“Love? What is it?” I whispered, heart suddenly thundering against my ribcage.

In response, she curled around her stomach, and I felt the muscles in her back lock up as she moaned again, low and gut-wrenching.

Oh, fook.

“Cataline?” I forced myself to take steady breaths as I rolled her over gently, alarmed to feel that her skirts were soaked. “Talk to me.”

“I think…”

In the darkness, only my keen sight could tell her eyes were squeezed tightly closed and sweat beaded her forehead despite the cold air.

“I think the babe is coming.”

Oh, fook!