Belstram
The second he released her onto the bed, she scrambled for the door, bare feet sliding on soft, luxurious pelts of animals he had hunted down himself; a gift for his future Queen.
Her eyes were widened, her nose flaring in fury; a stunning mix of defiant warrior and seductive siren.
The door had closed the moment They stepped inside the chamber, the ancient spells inscript on the walls invoking. And it wouldn't open until they consummate their bond.
"Let me out!" She yelled banging on the door.
Slowly, deliberately, he stripped out of his pants and stood before her n*de. His c*ck at full mast,dripping silky cr**m in drops as it had been since he laid eyes on her.
Her gaze fell upon him and she drew in a sharp, audible breath. Eyes wide as she ran her eyes from his hair, chest and down to his c*ck. And to the ribbed skin at the base of the h*ad.
And licked her lips.
"This is r*pe," she said, her voice silky with heat, a weak assertion that had no sway in his realm. "This is as**ult. This means prison time, and bigger as*holes digging you a new h*le in…
"
"In your world," he finished, voice low as he stalked, prowling towards her. Grabbing her around the waist and depositing her on the bed.
Caging her with his body. He bent his bent and lost himself in her scent; she smelt like wild flowers that only bloomed in moonlight, and wild honey, he groaned in want, his cursed wolf side ripping at his already shredded control. Not yet, he soothed.
"In mine, you were given to me by magic, by the right of bond. And God," he said, burying his nose in her hair."
"By the very curse that binds this land and its throne. You are mine."
She glared up at him, eyes full of heat and defiance, even as her body trembled with both fury and want. But no fear.
She was a Queen crowned in fire and defiance. He would not extinguish it, would temper it, forge it into something stronger.
Something, only for him.
He couldn't help but savor the inevitable, primal surrender, not born of cruelty, but of fate finally sliding into place.
"I don't co**ent," she stated, imperiously, lifting her chin in challenge.
"You will."
And then, he descended.
Layla
The first touch….stunned her.
Not rough or violent as she'd braced for, instead; hands, hot, callused, branding her wherever he touched.
Sliding over her arms, her waist, hips.
Caressing her as if imprinting the sensory information into his mind. Open mouthed kisses exploding on her navel.
She bucked, shoving against his chest with desperate strength, but he never relented, as he delved between her l*gs, sn*ffling between her th*ghs. L*cking, biting and soothing the bites with a velvety t*ngue
A growl of heat rumbled low in his throat, a deep sound that vibrated right to her pantyless cr*tch, and right into her cl*t.
He S**ked and l*tched on the nub, driving her to the edge, then slowing and starting all over.
He was a violinist playing his masterpiece.
"You belong to me," his voice was fierce and dark, surprisingly raw, like the truth of it clawed at him even as he spoke it.
Every fiber of her being quivered in want.
He kissed her.
Crushed her mouth under his, stealing the breath she managed to gasp back into her lungs. Binding her into his sensual war.
That ripped into the last of her control, she let the heat coursed through her, letting out sounds that would have put a p*rn star to shame.
Sudden and wickedly, she bit into his surprisingly soft lip, tasting blood. He rumbled his approval against her mouth, the bastard.
Then he ripp*d her shift in two, the sound snapping her from his lips.
"You arrogant, knuckle-headed piece of barbarian sh*t!" She choked out, fury momentarily eclipsing desire.
His lips curved at that, head bent down, lips covering a n*pple, hands massaging the mounds of sensitive flesh. Silencing her, stealing her next furious breath with heat and friction.
She arched despite myself, ragged gasp tearing from her throat. Heat. Teeth. Tongue. A dizzying prolonged attack on her senses.
Nothing in her careful, responsible life had ever prepared her for the raw, terrifying intensity of this. Not the carefully selected lovers, boyfriends or the one time Fiance had ever unravelled her like he did.
Belstram devastated her utterly, devouring her like a man starved for centuries. His hands were rough and impossibly reverent all at once. Like he was taking his fill, but also worshipping at some forbidden altar.
When he slid his hand between her th*ghs, fingers thick and seeking, she instinctively clamped her legs shut, the fire hr invoked consuming her from the inside out.
He snarled, low, a possessive challenge, eyes molten gold, as something less than human looked through his them, fangs descended onto his lower lip, sharp enough to make two beads of blood bloom on them.
It should have terrified her, but it only made her burned hotter. Dark thrills racing through her veins, from the combination of danger and heat.
"You will take me, little queen," he promised against her ear.
"Even if you fight yourself, every breath, every step of the way," with that he separated her th*ghs, thr*sting into her, in one long move, br*tally thick, a force of heat filling every inch of her and more, the ribbed skin of his c*ck setting her already w*t p***y into spasms.
She cried out from the sheer ecstasy of him, wild, feral pleasure tearing through her. It was right and dark and electric, a truth her body recognized even as her mind reeled.
He claimed what was his.
Irrevocably.
Ruthlessly.
And deep down, in some shattered, traitorous part of her that had just met its equal... She wanted it.
Wanted him
When she shattered into fragments of herself, screaming, shaking, lost to the tides he commanded.
He followed down, his breath ragged against her ear, growling her name like a prayer, like he had been branded and had lost parts of himself, parts he would never get back.
He pulled her over him, final assertion of victory, his breath ragged against her ear, his arms caging her in a way that felt terrifyingly close to... protection.
A dark, possessive shield.
Ownership.
Mine, his touch conveyed against her skin, even in the heavy, broken silence.
His.
She lay there in the ruins of herself, panting, aching, still burning with want .
Not broken.
Not tamed.
But claimed all the same.