Page 18 of Stolen By the Submarine

“Please?”

Without an ounce of artifice in her entire body, she steals chunks of my soul with her white hair, pale flesh, blown pupils, pert breasts, and wide hips.

“Try again, angel,” I challenge.

“More, please, alpha,” she says. Her fingers absently knead the nearest fabric. Slick drenches the half-formed nest underneath her.

“Almost, but not quite what I want,” I rumble.

My foot inches closer without my permission, but I dare not call it back.

“Please, Port? More?”

I groan and catch the fresh spurt of seed on the cushion before tossing the toys into the center of the nest. She rushes to claim her prizes. Her gorgeous ass tempts me to drop to my knees and take her from behind, but I finish marking the rug and add it to her collection.

Needing a moment to center myself, but unwilling to put much distance between us, I stalk to the metal box attached to the wall beside the ladder, open the lid, and yank several random food pouches from the selection before stomping back to her.

The toys and cushion add lumps to the edges of the nest, but she stares down in disgust at the rug draped over the corner.

I reach down to take it, but she snatches it away with a hiss and tucks it under the mound near the makeshift footboard, ensuring we’ll never touch it, but including it in her creation.

Longing fills her gaze when she glances at the nearby stacks.

I can’t deny her, not with her sweet voice echoing my name in my head. After dropping the food packets beside the bed, I drench countless items in my pheromones. Curtains, quilts, rugs, toys, everything I hoarded throughout the years becomes hers. She builds us the most luxurious nest in the entire universe. I watch in awe as she works.

When she disappears between the layers and ceases her purr, I stiffen.

The silence proves daunting.

This tiny, resilient little angel already owns my heart. I have yet to knot and claim her, but there’s no doubt I’m already smitten.

I’ll do anything for her.

Anything.

Without prompting, she sticks her fingers out from between the layers of the nest, wiggles them, and begs.

“Please, Port? I need you.”

As I climb into her cocoon, careful not to destroy it with my wide shoulders, the full bouquet of her perfume hits me in the face.

I don’t know how she waited this long. On her hands and knees, slick pours down her thighs and soaks the material underneath her. She wriggles her hips and fists the pillow in desperation.

I add a note of comfort to my growl and guide her onto her back. She resists until I settle my weight over her. Her groan signals the end of my restraint.

In a flurry of dark sensuality, I explore every inch of her, my hands too rough and my mouth too hungry, but she writhes underneath me, demanding more. I cannot resist. Cannot deny her. Cannot stand to see her suffer.

I wedge my shoulders between her legs and feast on her slick, licking her clit and stroking her insides with my fingers. She flies apart under my tongue. I consume her release.

It isn’t enough. Her estrous rallies and demands fulfillment.

I crawl up her body, fit my tip to her entrance, and frame her head with my hands. She writhes, testing my predatory drive, until I snarl, sink half an inch into her pussy, and nip her bottom lip. The moment she offers me her blown pupils, I surge into her with one brutal thrust until my partially inflated knot catches on her pussy lips.

Her open mouth calls to me. Neither of us needs to breathe anyway, so I join our mouths and rule her from top to bottom with my tongue and cock, syncing my invasion and retreat. Slick squelches every time I seat myself within her, and after a few strokes, her cream coats my knot and drips down my legs.

I yank my mouth away from hers and nip her earlobe.

“Are you ready for my knot, little angel?”

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