Carnage Island (Reject Island)

I fucking love her.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say, thrusting up into her. She almost falls forward from the power of my hips, but her torso flexes, keeping her upright. “So good, gorgeous. You feel so fucking good.”

She groans, frustration evident in her movements when I don’t immediately knot her.

I sit up and pull her legs around me, ensuring our snug and tight fit. Then I wrap her in my arms, pressing my chest to hers.

Her ankles cross behind my back, her hips moving with a frenzy driven by her need to mate.

“You want my knot, beauty?” I ask against her mouth, my palm curling around her nape while my opposite arm forms a band around her lower back. “You’re going to have to work harder for it.”

She growls, her teeth sinking into my lower lip.

“Squeeze me,” I say, pumping up into her. “Squeeze me with that sweet pussy of yours, Clove. Demand my knot.”

Her thighs clench, the little deviant hearing me through her haze of lust.

She’s in there, semi-aware of what I’m doing to her. But she’s in this blissful state of sensation that overtakes all else.

I absolutely envy her.

It’s similar to the rut, the need I feel to fuck her to oblivion over and over again, only I maintain my senses.

Because it’s my job to take care of her.

To make sure she’s not hurt.

To ensure she feels pleasure during this time of need, not pain.

To keep her fed, warm, clean.

It’s a dynamic that I’ve craved all my life.

And I finally have it.

With Clove.

“You’re everything I’ve always desired,” I say, kissing her as I force her movements to slow. “Everything I’ve always wanted.”

Her hips flex against mine, her need a palpable presence that pulls at my groin.

And then she starts to squeeze, just like I said, those slick inner walls clamping down around my shaft and driving me wild.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” I whisper. “Just like that.” It’s slow. It’s intense. It’s exactly what we both need.

I rock up into her, slower now, thoroughly claiming her as she massages me beautifully with her sensual muscles.

“You’re so damn perfect,” I tell her on a groan. “Don’t stop, beauty. Don’t fucking stop.”

If anything, she clamps down on me more.

“Fuck, Clove,” I breathe, my lips against hers. “You’re killing me, love. And I fucking love it.”

She thrusts her fingers through my hair, some of the brown of her irises bleeding back into the black.

I smile. “I knew you were in there.” I just had to do a little bit of lovemaking to draw her out.

“Knot me,” she demands.

“Mmm, I intend to,” I promise, using my palm against her ass to help guide more of the motion and sinking impossibly deeper into her.

She seizes around me, her walls strangling my cock.

“Yes, Clove,” I hiss, grinding against her and ensuring every part of her feels the movement, including her clit. “Fuck, you feel amazing. Make me knot you. Command me with your cunt.”

Her entire body spasms as she cries out in frustration.

Then she grounds down onto my knot and squeezes me so hard, I explode up into her.

It’s so goddamn intense that it fucking hurts.

I’ve never experienced anything like it, my knot never having left the base before.

She screams in response, her orgasm a cataclysmic wave of energy that wraps around us both and sends us spiraling into a sea of dark ecstasy.

I can’t see.

And I don’t even fucking care.

Not with the sensations exploding from below.

It’s a new meaning of heaven.

It’s rapture.

It’s fucking flawless.

I kiss her, thanking her with my mouth as I guide us both back to the bed, panting as I pull her beneath me.

Then I begin to move again, my knot still inside her.

Because fuck, I need to come again.

And again.

And again.

She doesn’t stop me, she begs me to do it.

And I do.

Taking her into rapturous oblivion with me on repeat as my knot just continues to pulse deep in her cunt.

It’s amazing. It’s life-changing. It’s my new favorite existence.

Delaying our gratification was worth it.

But I doubt I’ll ever be able to do it again.

Denying her is an impossibility. And denying us will never feel right.

My sweet little Omega just redefined my purpose in life. She gave me a heart. And she breathed renewed sensation into my soul.

“I love you,” I whisper, aware that she’s so lost to her heat that she won’t remember me saying the words. However, I’ll repeat them however many times she needs me to.

For eternity.





36





VOLT





Tieran is a better wolf than I am.

He’s somehow holding himself together for this speech and embracing the pack as though he has all the time in the world.

While all I want to do is return to the den and fuck our mate into oblivion.

However, it’s Caius’s turn. I’m just pissed I couldn’t be there to watch him finally let himself fuck her.

“It’s a new era for the Black Mountain Pack,” Tieran is saying. “Because we’re finally ready to go home.”

Howls echo into the night, the wolves thrilled that we’ve handled the Nantahala Pack once and for all. The Santeetlah Pack is all that’s left. But we’ll save them for after Tieran ascends.

Alpha Bryson became our primary challenge seven years ago.

And now he’s dead.

A bit anticlimactic for my taste, but that’s Tieran’s way. He’s not the type to prolong torture or make someone suffer. When he has the upper hand, he uses it without remorse.

I’m just sad I didn’t have a chance to take the bastard’s head.

It would have made for a nice trophy in the den.

But I don’t want it bad enough to go back there to take it. Not when Clove is in our bed right now, likely mewling and writhing in pleasure.

Fuck. I’m so damn hard.

I know Tieran is, too.

However, he’s still speaking, voicing a tribute to the lives lost now.

It’s really only Alpha Duncan, but he mentions the misguided enforcers from Nantahala Pack as well, saying they were not of sound mind with Alpha Bryson being their leader.

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