by V T Bonds
My control snaps, and I flip her under me before either of us realizes it. The blankets no longer cover us, and she closes her eyes as the overhead light glares into her face. I notice only because I can’t meet her eyes since they're closed.
My roar doesn’t belong to me, but it comes from my throat nonetheless, and instincts stronger than I’ve ever encountered wrench my control even further from my grasp.
With one hand kneading her delectable breast, the other grips her hip as I line my cock up to her pussy. When she feels my girth press into her, her startled eyes pop open and panic infuses her expression.
I surge farther than I’ve gone before, plunging into her wet heat, uncaring about her comfort. Her squeal echoes through my skull, but I need more from her.
I need all of her. I pull back until only my tip remains in her, then plummet again, even deeper.
Her squeal stops on a silent scream, but I’m too far gone.
My mind continues to catalogue everything, but I cannot stop my movements, nor can I soften my needs to meet her fragileness.
When I hit something deep inside her, tears flow down her temples and her nails dig into my biceps. Her channel spasms in reaction, and I pull back to ram in harder, enjoying the painful pleasure her pussy gives me.
Still, slick flows from her, and the lewd noises inspire me to move faster, plunge deeper, and consume her. Her watery eyes meet mine, and my heart cries out to her, hoping she sees how trapped I am in instincts.
How I’d never hurt her if given the chance.
How much I tried to stop this from happening.
How sorry I am for losing control.
I hit the spot deep inside her again, and her scream makes my ears ring, but my cock pushes further still, pressure on my tip alerting me to something I’ve never felt before.
Her nails rip chunks from my arms and chest, and I let her hurt me as I push against the back end of her vagina. I pull my hips back only to ram forward again, hitting her cervix with my cock. She keeps screaming and crying as I stimulate her insides, and I curse my Alpha tendencies as I enjoy pushing her beyond comfort. Each thrust digs my tip in further, and I feel her tight organ slowly giving way to my insistent prodding.
She bucks and fights, trying to get away from my relentless pounding, but she’s no match for my strength.
Or my stamina.
Before my knot inflates, she’s stopped struggling, but her pussy's resistance grips me as I surge in and out of her. She’s still unbelievably tight, but I no longer fear my girth will tear her to shreds.
No, it’s my length and my knot that may ruin her.
Something changes in her, and the tears in her eyes dry up. She grabs my face and snarls until I meet her fierce gaze.
My hips keep pistoning back and forth, and I love the weight of her breast in my palm, but the best sensation is the assurance flowing into my heart.
With blown pupils and a hoarse cry, my Omega surprises me yet again.
She pulls my face down and buries her teeth into my neck, higher than I’ve ever seen a mating mark, closer to my ear than my shoulder, and my world explodes.
My knot expands, locking behind her pubic bone, and as my release pours from me, the added sensation of her cervix clinging around the lip of my head sends me into override. My orgasm refuses to recede, and my muscles lock in extended pleasure.
I almost miss her reaction, but her spasms cause her teeth to jerk and tear at my flesh, and blood flows from me. Her body seizes a few times before she releases her bite, and her tongue strokes along my wound, lapping up the mess she made.
Still, seed shoots from me, and I worry death may be the only way to end the overwhelming sensation. Her tiny insides struggle to accept my offering, my cock already taking up too much space for her to be comfortable.
Through gritted teeth, I manage to slur, “Be. Still.”
She stops licking me and drops her legs to the bed, uneven breathing her only movement. Every now and then, an involuntary quiver from her pulls me back into ecstasy, and the cycle begins anew.
By the time my knot deflates, she’s deep asleep, but instincts drive me to rouse her. I scoop up the fluids leaking out of her and bring it to her mouth. She’s too exhausted to wake all the way, but with some gentle coaxing, she opens her mouth and accepts it from my hand. Her groan of pleasure moves me to do it again and again, until very little remains. Ignoring the destroyed nest, I move down the bed, spreading her thighs wide, and feast on what trickles out of her.
She moans but doesn’t move.
I can’t blame her. I rode her too hard, was too rough.
Guilt burrows into my mind as my adrenaline wears off, my instincts returning to their normal level.
She marked me. The half-formed link in my chest aches to be completed, but I won’t take more from her. Not when she’s so vulnerable, so at my mercy she can’t say no.
She marked me, and happiness flows through me. Even though I lost control and hurt her, she chose to claim me. I don’t deserve to be forgiven so quickly, but I feel through the link she already has.
As soon as we both rest, I’ll mark her. Whatever it takes to earn the forgiveness she’s already given me, I’ll do it.
Chapter Twenty
Britani
Memories that aren’t my own plague my dreams, but I don’t try to escape. These are Kwame’s experiences, and I need every part of him, especially these horrific memories. I’ve accepted his seed and his knot but need to understand the depths of his mind—including his most intimate moments.
I’ve claimed him. I will take all of him, no matter the cost.
Even if they make me want to weep.
His first memory is of a swift backhand, a cold floor, and an empty belly.
Not from a man. Not from a stranger.
From his own mother.
His Omega mother, broken from anger and contempt long before his conception. His sire was not her mate, but not a stranger either. Seedy things happen in the underbelly of Sector Two’s most prominent city, Gotawe. An Alpha-run society, little governs the citizens beyond one rule—Alphas are strongest.
There are pockets of responsible Alphas, those that treat the weaker dynamics with care, but those people are not near Gotawe's slums.
Kwame spent every day in misery, accepting his mother’s abuse, understanding her actions even before he could speak. He saw the rotation of her door, how helpless she was to stop the parade of men her bonded mate sent, and how fragmented her psyche was. She’d give up her tiny food rations for him, her lone surviving son, only to fly into an impotent rage when her belly grumbled. The only person around to take her anger was her beloved child, and after she’d lash out, she’d fall into despair. She’d cry and hold him, only to slap him and cram him in the closet when the apartment door opened.
As the malnourished little boy grew, he learned to move through the streets without being seen. Many times, he considered never going back to his mother, but a sense of loyalty held him even then. He stole food for himself so she could keep her rations and snuck her tidbits when she wasn’t occupied.
He only got caught once and learned his lesson then.
Even as a child, he was an accelerated learner, almost as though he could see two steps into the future.
His instincts lead him right in so many ways, keeping him alive and giving him warning when bad things headed his way. A black cloud in his chest woke him one morning, and he’d risen to find his mother’s bonded mate visiting.
Still a preteen, he’d understood the violence forced on his mother wasn’t sustainable. He saw the intent in the man’s eyes and realized his mother had finally snapped the male’s patience.
Kwame had used the Alpha’s own knife against him, pushing the blade between the man’s ribs, and Kwame felt no remorse for stabbing him in the back.
His mother had died a slow, tortured death, whispering words of apology and love.
Somehow, through it all, Kwame never lost
his moral compass. Even with a tormented mother and a slew of terrible male models, he couldn’t turn away from the compassion in his heart. Even when he murdered, he’d held no contempt.
Only a deep-seated knowledge he would never be such a horrible person, no matter his dynamic.
He’d left the decrepit apartment and never went back. He’d roamed the streets for about a year, then made his way to the outskirts of Gotawe. A band of nomads accepted his presence, and he’d learned many songs around campfires, moving among villages and enjoying the company of others.
He’d presented as Alpha and joined the military. It was a decision made over time, a seed planted in his skull when he’d slid the knife into another man’s flesh. The instincts guiding him through countless disasters had fostered its growth, and he had zero regrets.
He’d found his true family. His teammates were the only important people in his life.
Until I came along. Fate may have demanded we be together, but now he’s found me, he’ll never let me go.
I sigh as sleep slips away, my body sending complaints as I shift to get more comfortable. An ache deep inside pulses with my heartbeat, and a whimper sneaks out of my chest.
He mastered my body but didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to. I grimace as I amend my thoughts—I hadn’t wanted his cock that deep in me, but he hadn’t manipulated me with Alpha commands.
I feel refreshed in my soul, even if my body hurts from our coupling.
Realizing I’m in the bed alone, my heart gallops into my throat. The fear that I’ve been left locked in a little white room, waiting for my tormentors to return and violate me further, pounds through my skull until I move my arms.
Kwame’s ropes still cover me, and relief floods my mind, the snug hold on my skin easing my fears. I fill my lungs and our scents mingle in my nostrils, the bedding soaked in glorious smells. Sitting up, I groan at the soreness between my legs. My bladder complains, so I make my way to the edge of the bed. Our mating nest is ruined, even the pillows by our heads are out of place. I recall my skull striking the edge of the step as my Alpha gave me his all.
Bracing my elbows on the step, I survey the room. Four full water bottles sit by the lip of the bed, and even though I’m thirsty, I don’t reach for them. My bladder protests, so my main focus is the relief port—which is currently in use.
Kwame’s broad back and muscular ass is on display, and my fingers itch to touch. I didn’t get to explore him as well as I’d like, but I will as soon as possible.
He looks over his shoulder as he presses the bottom button, turning off the relief port. His eyes narrow and a growl-laced hum fills the air. Snapping the port into place, he turns and strides toward me in all his naked glory.
I almost forget my need to relieve myself with how gorgeous his sinewy muscles are, and his graceful prowl makes desire rise in me.
When he drops down in front of me, he has to tilt my chin up to peel my gaze off his massive cock. It juts out from his body, curved upward the smallest bit, and as thick as my wrist.
I understand why it hurt to have him seated inside me, because his length is breathtaking, and even though it isn’t inflated, the knot at the base is longer than I expected.
I’ve never seen an Alpha's dick, so I don’t know if he’s abnormal, or if it’s because I’ve never taken something so massive.
Despite his obvious arousal, his rich brown irises pierce my soul. Between his searching orbs and his occupation within my heart, his concern wraps around me, and I feel cherished.
He leans forward, kisses my forehead, and scoops me up. Without a word, he carries me to the hygiene bay. Another kiss on the forehead, then he sets me down and leaves me to take care of business. Even as I focus on my task, my senses tune to him, tracking his heartbeat and gauging his mood.
He smells of desire, and I finish my business and wash my hands, finding that my pain lessens with movement. As I turn on the dryer, I watch him wrap himself around me through the mirror. He nuzzles my neck with his soft lips, and my core clenches in need.
A beautiful mix of apprehension and lust blooms within my body, and his roaming hands awaken everywhere he touches. When I turn off the dryer, he picks me up again and carries me to the table. His hard cock tempts me as he sits, arranging me in his lap so I’m sitting sideways, cradled like a child.
I wiggle, his heat seeping into me and increasing my arousal, and my slick smears between us.
“Britani, you must eat and drink. Be still, nourish your body, and then you can remake our nest.” His melodious voice causes more slick to puddle between us, and I shiver in delight. The pain from our last joining is almost nonexistent, and the half-formed bond between us pulses in eagerness.
I sigh, then reach toward the table where the waters and two food trays sit. He must have moved them while I was occupied. His strong fingers engulf my wrist before I touch it, and my heart skips a beat.
Without a word, he picks up a rope from the table I didn’t notice, pulls my wrists behind my back, and laces my fingers together. The rope dances between my digits, connecting my palms together, and a web of security covers my hands. More of my heart unfurls, and my soul relaxes, eager for him to lay claim to me in all ways possible.
He feeds me new morsels, and again my senses lock down at the robust flavors, and by the time my belly is full, the smell of our arousal thickens the air. After the first new taste hit my tongue, I returned to find his ethereal song filling the air, and now it’s laced with his purr. My slick covers his lap, and I no longer want his length along my side—I want it in me, filling me beyond comprehension, sending me skyrocketing into the abyss of completion.
More than that, I want his teeth in my skin, marking and claiming me for eternity. I want to feel his soul intertwined with mine, our futures forever mingled.
When I refuse more water, he finishes what’s in the bottle, sets it down, and puts me on my feet. I mourn the loss of his warmth, but his song and ropes keep me grounded.
It chafes, this not-finished claiming, and I want him to fix it.
He stands behind me, caressing my shoulders and nuzzling my neck, the heat of his cock scorching my bound arms. Slick drips down my leg, and my nipples pebble in the cool air. He hums the tune that almost broke me before, when I was too guarded to admit this male is mine, and I join in. Words of breathtaking balance and a happy union bounce around my skull as my raspy, unused voice joins his decadent timbre.
With my hands immobilized, he takes advantage of my vulnerable flesh, tracing the edges of my breasts before cupping the mounds in his palms. His skillful fingers dance over my nipples, and I squirm with desire.
An unexpected, sharp pinch on both tips makes my back arch as my yip breaks my hum. My tiptoes take all my weight as I lean back on him, his fingertips pulling their captives upward. When white hot pain spears from my nipples, he lets go and spins me around. Without my arms to balance, I rely on him to keep me upright. As his lips and tongue caress the pain away, adrenaline and need send me soaring through clouds.
The ground disappears from under my feet, and Kwame's smooth, muscular hips part my thighs. I wrap my legs around him, crossing my ankles behind his back and writhing against his turgid length. My slick allows me to rub up and down him, but his cock is pinned between us, so I can’t fit him to my entrance. With my hands tied behind my back, I can’t control anything, and the situation is an adequate representation of my emotional situation.
I’m helpless, at his complete mercy.
It is heaven.
He knows what I need, and I know I can trust him—I’ve seen his past, felt his compassion, and willingly give myself to him.
Whether it’s the partial bond between us, fate, or honest emotions, I don’t care why, I just know I need him. He sits in the chair he vacated moments ago and growls, causing my core to tighten. I groan and rub harder, desperate for relief.
“I lied, Britani. No nest. Here, now, like this.”
Hi
s large hands unhook my ankles and pull my legs to the floor before he grabs the base of my skull with his left and enjoys my breasts with his other. Pleasure soars through me, and I strain my legs in search of his cockhead.
Pressure on the base of my skull pulls me higher as his hand leaves my breasts, and his massive member presses against my entrance.
I stare into his eyes, noting his pupils have taken over his irises, and wait for him to tear into me. Instead, the pressure on my head lessens as he lowers his arm, and he slides deeper in tiny increments.
Fuck, he’s big. My legs shake with the effort of taking him, but his purr encourages me to keep trying.
“Your pace, Britani, at least for now. Open for me, love, so my mark feels good,” his rocky voice displays his restraint, and I know his arousal matches mine. I smell it in the air around me, feel it in his flesh, sense it in our connection.
I’m too impatient. Knowing it will hurt, I slam myself down, forcing at least half his length inside me. His shocked sound ricochets through me, and slick drips around him. His fingers tighten on my skull, but I push myself up just far enough for leverage, then drop lower, gasping at how he fills me.
A firm fingertip swipes across the sensitive bundle above my opening, and the world falls away.
I ride him. I ride him until my legs feel like rubber and my core screams in delicious agony. I ride him until we’re covered in sweat and his knot thickens at my entrance.
I ride him until his control breaks.
His fingers bruise my hips as his teeth sink into my shoulder.
Bliss.
No pain, no love, nothing compares to this.
This is rebirth.
This is life.
This is paradise.
This is home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kwame
All the fables and songs written to describe the lifemating bond don’t do it justice.
The pain of my past remains, but now I have her to balance me. Her heart beats in my chest and her soul merges with mine. She accepts my reality, and her graciousness at my upbringing makes me want to fall to my knees and weep.