Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
No.
This is my mark. My brand. The mark of my canines on his flesh. It will leave a scar, and no one—not even the woman who’s above us somewhere en route to her mate—can take that away.
I seal my lips around his flesh as I continue to partake, and though I don’t want to let go, I eventually do, sealing the wound with my saliva. I look at the mark—my mark—and while I’m not at all happy, I find myself smiling.
Rogan will always bear the mark of my teeth here. Right here, where any new lover he takes will see it.
I meet his gaze, his irises swirling with passion. “Take me,” I demand, my voice a low growl, as I roam his body with my fingers and revel in the hard planes of muscle.
He responds eagerly, matching my aggression, gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him. The heat radiates from our bodies, filling the room, making it difficult to breathe.
Still, I manage to inhale—inhale his spicy masculinity, his animal musk.
His hard cock grazes my tummy, and its warmth against me invigorates me further.
“I’m going to fuck you, princess,” he snarls into my ear. “I’m going to drill my cock into you so hard that you’ll never believe I could ever love another.”
I close my eyes, let his words infuse me as if they’re part of the rain above, nurturing the fallen. Nurturing me.
He’s wrong, of course, but he believes what he says. I have no doubt.
While his love for me may be real, the overpowering need to mate with me is not. It was manufactured.
The heat between us is real, though. At this moment it pulses through me as if it’s alive.
“Touch me first,” I command, guiding his hand between my legs, where my need is most urgent. “Feel how ready I am. How wet I am for you.”
And though I don’t say it, I know I’ll never get wet for any other man the way I respond for Rogan.
Perhaps I’ll have future lovers, maybe even a husband.
But never will anyone stoke the fire inside me like the man who’s doing so now.
He obliges, teasing me with his fingers, sliding them over my clit and then shoving two, and then three, inside me.
“Fuck,” he growls.
“That’s how much I want you, Rogan. Remember that. Remember that all your days.”
“Fuck,” he growls again, this time deeper and raspier.
He lifts me and carries me to the wall of the cave. The dirt walls are surprisingly soft, but I moan anyway as they scratch my back, dig into my shoulders.
In one swift move, he shoves his cock into me, the angle so perfect that it hits my G-spot and sends me catapulting into a climax already.
“That’s it, princess. You come for me. Never for anyone else. Only for me.”
His command seeps into my soul, and for a moment I wonder if his words are hypnotic. If I’ll ever come for another.
But the thought is fleeting as I escape into the pleasure of the orgasm, the rapture of his hard and fast thrusts as I clench around him.
“Never like this,” he pants against my neck. “Never like this with anyone else, Hannah.”
God, he used my name.
He believes what he says.
He makes me want to believe it too.
But I know better.
Still, I let myself go.
She’s out there, searching, and she will find him. Or he’ll find her. They’ll find each other, and the mating process will begin.
I close my eyes against the images in my mind as the orgasm closes in.
Thrust, thrust, thrust…
“Harder,” I demand, my own voice barely recognizable to my ears.
He complies until I feel like I’m being bulldozed, but I’m loving every minute.
Closer and closer I come again to the edge. I claw at his back, leaving more marks on him and drawing blood.
Inhaling the intoxicating scent of him, of his red elixir.
The second orgasm takes me even higher, and from above I look down at our bodies, at Rogan fucking me so fast, as if he’s a damned machine. His grunts and groans resonate throughout the bunker, ricocheting up to me where still I gaze down.
Until…
I plummet back into my body as he releases.
Releases into me.
“Only you,” he whispers harshly into my ear. “Never another. Only you, Hannah.”
Gently, he kisses my neck. Our heartbeats are in sync, and they slow together as we lose ourselves in the sound of the rain outside.
Only you, Hannah. Only you.
34
The rain patters down, and though Rogan and I are entwined together, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, I know our love is short-lived.
His love for me, that is.
I, myself, will never love another.
But even I’m surprised at how soon our nirvana ceases.
Rogan jerks, lifts his head. He inhales, long and slow and sure. Then he dislodges himself from me.
It’s her.
She’s here.
I could say my heart is breaking, but it already broke.