Page 81 of The Alpha Under My Bed

And then?—

He was inside me.

One brutal, unstoppable thrust.

My head snapped back, a broken cry ripping from my throat as every inch of him stretched me open, claimed me, ruined me—erasing every thought in my head exceptMal, Mal, Mal?—

He filled me completely, his knot pressing against my entrance with the first pulse of his hips. I gasped, my body stretching to accommodate his size, a whimper escaping my lips as he began to move. Each thrust was a claiming, a branding, staking his claim on a part of me I had foolishly thought I could keep hidden. I clawed at his back, my nails scraping against the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel skin.

“Mal,” I whispered, my voice trembling on his name—a desperate plea, a prayer that hung in the air between us.

He responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, reverberating against mine. It resonated within the bond that tethered us, a living force that pulsed with every sharp thrust, winding tighter around my heart with every ragged breath that tore from my lungs.

“You’re mine, Ellie.”

His words were a dark, possessive command, igniting a fire deep within me that consumed every thought, every shred of control. The world beyond him blurred into nothingness as my body arched into his, a silent, aching plea for more—more depth, more intensity—until the boundaries between us vanished, leaving only the heat of our connection.

He drove into me with an urgency that bordered on madness, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my veins, every retreat a cruel sweetness that left me aching, yearning for the next. His slickness, coating him, eased his passage, as he claimed me with relentless precision. The pressure of his knot against my entrance was maddening—an unspoken promise, a tease of what was to come, that left me trembling with anticipation.

“Please,” I begged, the word slipping from my lips like a secret—needy and raw.

He bent his head, capturing my plea with his lips, his kiss as demanding as his thrusts. His tongue swept into my mouth, tangling with my own in a desperate dance—a mimicry of the ancient rhythm we were both helpless to resist.

I could feel the tension coiling in my belly, a tightening spring that threatened to release at any moment. Mal’s hand slid between our bodies, his fingers finding the bundle of nerves at my core with unerring accuracy. He circled my clit with a practiced touch, the sensation enough to send me spiraling over the edge.

My climax hit me like a shockwave, radiating out from my core in pulsing waves of ecstasy. My inner walls clenched around his cock, milking him with a greed I had no control over. He groaned against my lips, the sound soaked in satisfaction as he continued to thrust, drawing out my pleasure until I was a trembling, gasping mess in his arms.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “Feel how perfectly you take me? You were made for this. Made for me.”

And then he was coming, his knot swelling and locking us together in the most intimate of ways. His release filled me, painting my insides with his essence—a primal part of me reveling in the sensation. He held me close, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered words of ownership and adoration, sealing our fates with every shuddering pulse of his knot.

“You’re my omega, Ellie. My heart. My soul. My everything,” he breathed against my skin.

I felt his claim down to the very marrow of my bones—a truth I could no longer deny, a truth that had been written in the stars since the dawn of time.

In that moment, I was his.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

Twenty-One

ELEANOR

I was still shaking.My body was wrecked, boneless, soaked in his scent, in his cum, in the fucking bond that pulsed hot and heavy inside me like a second heartbeat.

It was done.

The claiming. The bond. The betrayal.

And I had let it happen.

Mal’s arms were still wrapped around me, his chest pressed against my back, his breath slow, steady—sated. His fingers traced lazy circles down my spine, unhurried, possessive, like he had all the time in the world. Like he hadn’t just spent weeks lying to me.

I swallowed, my throat raw, my pulse thrumming in my ears. I needed to move. Needed to breathe. Needed to get the fuck away. But the second I tried to shift, his arms tightened.

A slow, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest—indulgent, knowing—like he could feel it. The exact moment I woke up and realized exactly what I had done.

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