She sagged in relief when he finally lowered his zipper and freed his cock. The feel of the head rubbing at her entrance was so good that she almost cried. Panting with the need to come, she wrapped her other leg around his hip—an invitation. But instead of plunging inside her, he lowered her legs and began fondling her breasts again.
She screamed in frustration and struggled against her bonds, but it was useless. As if she wasn’t writhing, screaming, and insulting him, Dante continued to alternate from teasing her breasts to finger-fucking her to sinuously rubbing his cock between her folds. She moaned. She groaned. She whimpered. She sobbed. She cried. She threatened his livelihood. She even tried kicking the shit out of him again. After what felt like hours of sensual torture, she was practically delirious with the need to come. So delirious that she did what she’d never done before.
“Please!” Nothing. He simply continued to nibble on her shoulder while teasing her clit with the tip of his finger. She curled her legs around his hips again and groaned as she felt the head of his cock against her entrance. “Please fuck me!” Still no reaction. What made the whole thing so much worse was that he wouldn’t meet her eyes, wouldn’t even look at her face, wouldn’t talk to or respond to her. Like she was just any woman, like she was no one at all to him.
A mixture of enraged, hurt, horny, and restless, she completely snapped. “You don’t get to treat me like this! Like I’m just some faceless fuck! I’m not one of your one-night stands! I’m not one of your little sluts! I’m your mate!” He rammed every inch of his cock into her and, that easily, she fragmented. A throaty scream tore from her as flames of ecstasy lanced through her, making violent orgasmic convulsions rack her entire body.
When she opened her eyes, she gasped at the feverish hunger glowing on his face. How he hadn’t come was beyond her understanding. He really was the embodiment of self-control. Although he was meeting her gaze— finally— he still didn’t speak to her. She realized then what he’d been doing. Realized what he wanted. She didn’t want to give it to him, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t fight him, or this, either. She needed him so much in every way someone could need another person.
She had even before she knew he was her mate.
Suddenly feeling drained mentally and physically, Jaime sagged and her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. She cried and cried, hating how weak and helpless she was. When she felt him kiss her hair, she returned her gaze to his. His expression was patient, expectant, and resolute. He wasn’t going to budge on this.
“I’m your mate.” She cried out as he rewardingly thrust once inside her. “Your mate,” she again admitted, and again he drove into her just once. She knew what he was waiting for. “And you’re mine.”
Triumph, relief, and satisfaction filled Dante. “Goddamn right. And don’t ever forget it.” Then he was gripping her ass and hammering his cock inside her. Taking her. Claiming her. Branding her.
Jaime thought she might black out; his pace was merciless and wild, and it felt so amazing and right that tears stung her eyes. Although the bark of the tree was biting into her skin, it only complemented the other sensations spiraling through her as every bit of the ravenous longing that had been riding her was now, finally, indulged.
“Tell me what you want, Jaime,” he ordered hoarsely. “Tell me.” The urge to claim her as his mate was pushing Dante so hard it was actually painful, but he wouldn’t do it without her consent.
Not just because it wouldn’t be fair to her, but because he needed to hear her say that she wanted it.
His stubborn mate didn’t. Abruptly he stilled, staring deep into her glazed smoky-blue eyes. Ignoring her sounds of irritation, he held her immobile and flexed his cock inside her, making her whimper.
“Do you want me to claim you?” he demanded.
A huge part of her was saying no, but it was drowned out by her need to have every part of him, to lay the ultimate, irrevocable claim on him. “Do it.” He withdrew until only the head of his cock was inside her. “Not good enough. I need to hear you say that you want it.”
A short pause. “I want it.”
Dante thrust up into her tight pussy, wrenching a loud cry from her. Then he was again ramming into her relentlessly, determined to leave no doubt in her mind of who she belonged to and would always belong to. Growling, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. He thrust his tongue inside, meeting hers, exploring every crevice of her mouth. The kiss was greedy, deep, and urgent, and she met every demanding stroke of his tongue with equal intensity.
As he’d expected, she jumped in surprise as he let one of his fingers gently circle the bud of her ass. “Shh. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. You know that. But I am going to fuck this ass soon.
Fuck you where no one else ever has. Because it’s mine to fuck, to protect, and to blister with my hand if you ever deny I’m your mate again.”
Startling a cry from Jaime, he pushed his finger into her ass. The sting didn’t distract her from the hurt in his voice. She hadn’t meant or wanted to do that by denying him. On the contrary, she’d been trying to protect him from a very uncertain future. But still, she’d caused him pain, and she hated herself for that. “I’m sorry.”
The apology startled Dante so much that he actually stopped. “Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’ll never deny me again.”
His pain was still in his voice. Determined to take it away, Jaime did something that she, as a dominant female, would never have envisioned herself doing. She gave him her throat.
As her head fell back in invitation and submission, Dante groaned and almost came right then.
His mate was submitting to him in the ultimate way. “Such.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Good.” Thrust.
“Girl.” With what could only be described as a territorial growl, he resumed pounding into her so hard he was pretty sure it was hurting her, but there was no way he could hold back even one ounce of himself.
Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he licked and scraped his teeth over the spot where he’d visualized his mark would be. “My good girl. My mate.” To punctuate that, he sank his teeth hard and deep into her skin, tasting blood, and plunged a second finger into her ass.
White-hot fire lanced through Jaime, and she screamed his name as the most intense and most moving orgasm she had ever experienced slammed into her. She succumbed to the primal urge to bite down on his neck, sucking hard and branding him as hers.
As her pussy clamped around his cock and her teeth marked him, Dante half growled, half groaned. He punched into her one last time and erupted inside her, fully claiming her as his mate.
“Mine.”
What happened next was as exactly as Jaime’s mother had described; her whole body tightened and a painful pressure thumped her brain, but the pain quickly disappeared and feelings of
“warmth” and “rightness” flowed over and through her. She felt comforted, secure, and safe. Although she could easily feel her connection to Dante, it was only partly developed and not yet solid. Still, she could sense him and what he was feeling. Could feel him on a preternatural level, feel him completely, as though he was blanketed around her. She knew that even when they were apart, she would feel him, would feel joined to him. In that way, the bond was a little like a shadow—something she wouldn’t be able to touch, but a presence that was always right there.