Page 37 of Claimed By the Damned

Ethan groans, his own hips stuttering against mine at the sensation. "Fuck, Angel," he murmurs, voice rough and thick against my skin. "You like that, don't you? I can feel how you grip me, squeezing my cock so tight just thinking about being ours." The raw possessiveness in his tone, the explicit claim, sends another wave of pure heat curling through my belly, eclipsing any lingering fear.

My body arches beneath him, the words continuing to reverberate in my mind, sending a new kind of shiver down my spine. Made forthem. The thought should scare me—maybea small, terrified part of me still whispers warnings—but the conviction in Ethan’s eyes, the protective fire, tells me he means it.

He isn’t just claiming me for himself; he’s opening a door I hadn’t dared imagine. My heart pounds, torn between the wildness of this desire and the echoes of past uncertainty, but his hands grip my hips, grounding me. I consciously let the questions fade, choosing this moment, this sensation. My arms curl around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair, anchoring myself in him. "Move," I whisper. "I need you to move." Right now, that feeling, his claim, is everything. I just want tofeelit, feelhim.

Ethan groans low, brushing his lips against my cheek, jaw, lips. "I’ve got you, Angel," he murmurs, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a shudder through me. "I’ll always have you."

He moves again, deeper, pressing flush against me, his heat a cocoon. This is more than sex—it’s closeness, him holding me together, piece by precious piece.

His hands explore as if memorizing my body, tracing every curve, every hollow. Each touch ripples warmth through me, melting tension. Fingers graze the dip of my waist, making my breath hitch, before moving lower, and lower. Every brush of skin is a silent promise, reassurance that he seesme. He kisses along my collarbone, shoulder, waist, savoring me, worshiping me.

"Lila… you’re everything to me, to us," he breathes, voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea."

My breath catches, heart thundering. Part of me wants to resist, push back against belonging to anyone after Kolya. But this is different. This isn't a chain; it feels like a lifeline. He isn't just claiming my body; he’s acknowledging something I’m not ready to name, something I’m choosing to explore.

I clench around him, testing the depth, and his jaw tightens, restraint palpable. He isn’t rushing. Every movement is deliberate, savoring, grounding me. He pulls out slightly before pressing back in, a slow thrust sending pleasure rippling through me. I moan, arching, urging him on. His restraint finally crumbles.

His movements grow deeper, faster, more urgent, every stroke sending waves of fire through me. He’s not just taking—he’s worshiping me with every thrust, every kiss, every whispered praise.

Pleasure coils tight in my core, building. I cling to him, breath coming in short, needy gasps. "Ethan—"

"I’ve got you, Angel," he murmurs, his hand slipping between us to find the bundle of nerves making me see stars. He strokes me in time with his thrusts, pushing me closer to unraveling. He groans, thrusts growing erratic, grip tightening. His mouth finds my breast, latching on, sucking my nipple deep into the wet heat of his mouth, he rasps against my skin, "Let go, Angel. Come for me."

Pleasure winds impossibly tight. I teeter on the edge, every thrust closer. He shifts, angling deeper, hitting a place that sends me spiraling. I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as my body tenses. My release tears through me in waves so intense they steal my breath. I cling to him, tethered to reality only by his presence.

My body convulses beneath him. Ethan follows with a deep, broken moan, burying himself to the hilt as he lets go. A rush of warmth fills me, the intimate sensation sending another shudder through my spent body. His grip tightens as if he’ll never let go, body shaking against mine as he gives everything.

For a long moment, neither of us moves, tangled, breaths mingling.

Silence settles, broken only by our breathing. Ethan brushes damp hair from my forehead, fingers tracing lazy circles on my side. He presses a soft kiss to my temple before slipping out of bed. I hear water running in the ensuite. He returns moments later with a warm, damp towel.

Gently, he parts my legs, his touch tender as he cleans me, movements unhurried. There's no shame in his touch, only care, reinforcing the safety I felt, the choice I made. "Just relax, Angel," he murmurs soothingly. Finished, he presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to my sensitive core, tasting himself on me without hesitation—a final act of care that sends a fresh shiver through me. He disposes of the towel and returns, slipping under the covers to pull me close against his chest, his warmth a protective cocoon.

He presses a lingering kiss to my temple. "Are you okay, Angel?"

I nod, exhaling shakily, body still tingling from what we shared. "I just... that was..."Incredible,doesn't cover it. Words fail to capture the monumental shift, the reclaiming of my own desire.

He smiles, eyes soft, full of warmth and something unspoken. "You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you."

I curl into him, feeling safe, whole, for the first time in so long. He kisses my forehead, fingers tracing lazy patterns along my side.

I am his.

But more than that—Iwantto be theirs.

The thought hits with the force of a physical blow, sharp and shocking after the storm. My stomach twists, old nausea threatening. Is this just another echo of Kolya’s control, him deciding who touched me, passing me around?No.My mind screams the denial, a fierce, immediate rejection rising against the comparison. This blinding pleasure, this profound connection, ismine. Born of my choice, Ethan's care, theircollective protection. It has no place in the same universe as Kolya's cold violations.

This feelsnothinglike that. This overwhelming craving feels rooted in the safety they’ve built around me. Ethan’s gentle warmth and patience. Bastian’s grounding presence and quiet intensity. Ryker’s chaotic protection and unexpected humor. Each offers a different refuge, a vital piece of the whole I desperately need to feel secure,seen, after being so broken.

It isn't about dividing myself; it’s about wanting theentireshield, the complete sanctuary their combined presence represents. A deep, aching yearning to belongfullysomewhere safe after belonging nowhere. A desperate need for every broken piece of me to be accepted, protected.

Am I setting myself up for more heartbreak, slipping into this beautiful but dangerous thing, something that could shatter me again if it isn’t real? The fear is a cold knot, but the desire, the developing hope, is a stubborn flame.

I exhale slowly, chest tightening as doubt wars with desire. A deep inhale steadies me, but the tension lingers. I push the thought away. Not now. Not tonight. I don’t have the answers, maybe I don’t need them yet. Tonight was aboutmychoice,mybody,mypleasure. And I will hold onto that.

Ethan’s arms tighten, his body solid against mine. His breath brushes my hair as he sighs contentedly, unaware of the storm inside me. "Get some sleep, Angel," he murmurs, soft and reassuring. "I’m not going anywhere."

For now, that’s enough.

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