Just like Rixen. He was coming apart for his Morgan, her sweet, sexy body wet and giving beneath him. With a roar kindling in his throat, Rixen ground down into her pussy, cinched back and did it again, his hips beginning to piston out of control. “If anyone besides me ever touches this pussy, I will rip out their fucking throat. Do you understand your daddy, little Morgan?”
“Yes,” she screamed, voice vibrating with his drives. “Oh my God, Rixen.”
He gripped her knees in his hands and pinned them open, unable to check the force he used to fuck, to claim. “Mine. Don’t ever make me remind you. Daddy doesn’t just tuck you in and ride your cunt. He can punish, too.” He snapped his teeth over the fluttering pulse in her neck. “Don’t ever test me.”
“I-I won’t,” she stammered, her eyes rolling back in her head. “I’m…I’m going to…”
Some of Rixen’s consciousness returned when Morgan’s pussy cinched up and began to spasm around him. His mate was having another orgasm, even as he took no care with her body. He would praise her for that later. Reward her. Marvel over her. But for now, the animal inside him wasn’t done. Knowing he only had seconds before his own climax hit, Rixen wrapped a hand around Morgan’s throat. “Your virgin pussy has been sated by your mate. Say it now.”
Still shaking violently, the words were pushed past stiff lips. “My virgin pussy has been sated by my mate,” she wheezed.
Rixen pumped deep and came, thorns of pleasure/pain sinking into his neck, the small of his back, his groin. Too much. A bellow broke from his mouth as come squirted from his cock into his mate’s tightness, her tiny muscles stroking him like a fist. He’d waited so long, locked up his desire in chains, keeping it confined to his mind. And now he’d been gifted perfection. It hurt. Hurt so bad, even as he relieved his balls of their incredible weight. Only when he was half spent did the relief roar in to save him. Rixen threw back his head and shouted Morgan’s name at the ceiling, his hips continuing to fuck, fuck, fuck through the utter bliss of breeding his mate.
Hours seemed to pass as the moisture left him, rolling down the insides of their thighs like cake batter, making a puddle on the bedclothes and spreading, spreading. His female would be pregnant come the morning light. There wasn’t a fucking doubt in his mind. His soul.
At the reminder of the organ in his chest—how fast she’d claimed it—Rixen’s attention flew to Morgan where her head lolled on the pillows. “My gift,” he choked out. “Oh, my sweet gift. I was so rough. I was…” He slid down her body, leaving kisses on her face, chest, belly, before climbing back up to claim her mouth. “You’ve seen the man and the beast now, Morgan. Tell me you aren’t afraid of either. Because mean or not…the beast means what he says. You’re mine. I’ll do anything to keep you. I need you so bad.”
Her blue eyes were drowsy as she smiled. “You’re right. I wasn’t alone. I liked watching you forget yourself.” A blush climbed her cheeks. “It makes me want to lose myself even more next time.”
Rixen fell on her with a groan, burying his face in her neck. “I’m not worthy of you.”
After a few seconds, her fingers slipped into his hair and their bodies turned toward one another, legs twining together in a sleep pose. “I think you are, Rixen,” she murmured into a lazy tongue kiss. “I think you are.”
He fell asleep with a thank you to his maker on his lips…no idea that tomorrow would bring yet another test.
Swear to God, she’d meant to escape last night. Her last thought upon falling asleep was, as soon as he falls asleep, I’m blowing this surprisingly tasteful joint. And then she’d snuggled closer into the warm, protective embrace of Rixen, the alligator-wrestling man beast and dropped into the most complete unconscious state of her life. A meteor could have torn off the ceiling of the one-bedroom house and she would have yawned into her new, favorite chest hair pillow and gone back to sleepy town.
Well wasn’t that just terrifying? Honestly, she’d believed herself to be a mentally tough individual, able to remain objective and maintain her eye on a goal. That was before all sorts of things had happened, though. Like sex. Not just sex, though. She didn’t even know how to begin describing what took place in Rixen’s massive four-poster bed.
Morgan had been picturing her first sexual encounter for years. She usually got about halfway through a fantasy before the guy turned into some awkward, gangly spit machine. Or a jackhammering frat asshole. Somewhere along the line, she’d just decided to forgo the whole experience. After all, her friends were always complaining about sex being less than fulfilling. And in the midst of all that unfulfilling sex, they—for some inexplicable reason—decided to devote all their time and attention to the dude providing it. Morgan did not get it.