Teeth sank into the curve of her breast, and Makenna made a strangled moan as waves of pleasure shook her body. Her * clenched as Ryan withdrew his fingers, leaving her feeling painfully empty.
With a growl, Ryan cupped her ass and hoisted her up. “Wrap your legs around me,” he rumbled. “That’s it.” He angled her hips just right, holding her gaze. “You’re mine, Makenna. You can fight it all you want, but you belong to me.” He slammed into her. Fuck. Ryan groaned against her neck as her slick * tightened and rippled around him, so tight and hot it was almost too much, almost hurt. He was finally balls deep in his mate, exactly where he needed to be. He resisted the urge to pound into her. For all of two seconds.
Makenna held on tight as he savagely powered into her, feeling the bunch and flex of his muscles beneath her hands. Every thrust was hard, rough, possessive, and deep enough to hurt. That pain only heightened the pleasure. She’d known it would be like this. Known all his natural intensity would make him this ruthless and demanding. And she absolutely loved it.
Feeling his mouth clamp around her pulse, teeth grazing the skin, Makenna probably should have been nervous. But Ryan had said he wouldn’t claim her, and she trusted him to keep his word. Still, the way he possessed her body felt like he was claiming her in his own way—it was primitive, aggressive, and left her in no doubt of exactly what he considered her to be: his.
Ryan knew he was hurting her, and he would have dug for the strength to slow down if he hadn’t been sure that she liked the bite of pain. It was clear in her hoarse moans, the demanding prick of her claws, and the way her hot * pulsed and contracted around his cock. She was his match. Made purely for him. No one would make him think otherwise.
He sucked on her pounding pulse, making her * tighten around him and bathe his cock in a rush of cream. His wolf was urging him to bite her hard, to draw blood and claim her. It was tempting, so fucking tempting, but Ryan would never do it without her consent—even though the drive to claim was like a drumbeat in his chest. No, he wouldn’t claim her. But he’d sure as hell fucking mark her so she knew whom she belonged to.
Feeling her release start to creep up on her, Makenna clawed at his nape. “Ryan, I need—” She cut off as he shifted her hips slightly, so that he was now hitting her G-spot with every brutal, territorial thrust. “Fuck.”
Meeting her glazed eyes, Ryan reached between them and found her clit with his thumb. “Come for me.”
The power and authority in his voice hit her deep in her core, sending her tumbling into a climax so vicious it tore a scream from her throat.
Ryan snarled as her claws sliced into his back, branding him, just as her * clamped down on his cock, rippling and spasming. It was too much. Sinking his teeth into her throat, he rammed himself deep and exploded, shooting jet after jet of come inside her. Soul-deep satisfaction settled deep in his gut. He might not have claimed her officially, but he’d claimed her in his own way with his body, his teeth, and his come. For him, at least, it was binding.
Makenna Wray would never be free of him.
CHAPTER TEN
Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror the next morning, Makenna sighed. Hell. She was covered in brands that pretty much broadcasted “Ryan has been here.” There were little bites on her neck, shoulders, and breasts. There were claw marks on her hips, stomach, and upper arms. And there were fingerprint bruises on her hips, ass, and thighs.
She wished she could say they pissed her off. They didn’t. Nor did the fact that she was sore and tired. She felt taken, sated, and very well fucked.
She had been well fucked. Ryan had taken her in the shower, on the floor of the bathroom, and from behind as she braced herself against the wall. Then—while she’d been limp as a noodle—he’d bathed her, ate her out, and put her to bed. In the middle of the night, she’d woken to feel him fucking her slow and hard.
Their first time had been so wild and frantic that she’d missed what the next few rounds with Ryan had shown her—the guy had a big thing for control. Not to the extent that he expected her to be submissive. No, he liked that she was defiant. He even liked that she made her own demands . . . he just ignored them.
Hell, the night itself had branded her.
Her wolf liked wearing his marks, liked that he’d felt the need to display such possessiveness. What she hadn’t liked was the amount of scars on his body.