Page 12 of Ruthlessly Mated
Damon’s expression has shifted slightly. He doesn’t seem so amused anymore. He seems pensive.
“So you’re a mute?” I ask him.
He doesn’t reply.
Conroy grips my chin and turns my face back to him. “You can get to know us later,” he says. “Once you’ve submitted to us properly.”
“I’m not going to submit to you, asshole. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
Conroy picks me up, carries me into the den, and tosses me over the back of his armchair. There’s no preamble. No warning. No nothing besides the certainty that I am going to get fucked, and fucked hard.
“You’re gonna fucking regret this,” I curse as he slides inside me. I can barely form the words, but at least he won’t be able to pretend I didn’t warn him. Men like him think they’re in charge of everything and everyone.
His cock feels like it was made for me, thick enough to stretch me wide, deep enough to fill me. I know I’ve only had sex once before, and that was maybe fifteen minutes go, but I am almostcertain he was truly made for me, and me for him. I let out a moan that makes it very obvious how much I enjoy this.
“That’s right,” he purrs down at me. “Someone hasn’t been properly fucked before, has she?”
“She’s never been mated properly,” Tailor agrees.
They’re discussing me like a specimen while I am coming undone in every direction possible.
“You’re the only person who has ever fucked me,” I remind him. “So if it was done badly, that’s your fault.”
“Shut up,” Conroy growls, thrusting deep and hard inside me. His words make me tingle deep inside, like I love the fact he’s being rough and kind of rude to me. My attitude goes absolutely nowhere with him.
It hurts. But it feels good. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, but I know I need this. He is feeding an appetite I didn’t know I had. He’s making me confront myself in ways I never wanted to confront myself. I don’t have the time.
His cock is getting bigger, thicker. There’s another knot forming inside my ravaged pussy, a twisted natural function designed to increase the chances he gets to knock me up.
“Now you’re feeling it, aren’t you, little fucking brat,” he snarls, thrusting in, even though the extra girth makes it almost impossible. He fucks me until he can’t fuck me anymore, until he has to come inside me, filling me up for a second time.
I end up limp and weak over the chair, leaking semen and feeling far too dazed and confused to orient myself to the situation I am now in. What the fuck is happening to me. Why am I letting this happen? Why aren’t I fighting harder?
Stupid body. Stupid wolf nature. Stupid having the instincts I always try to repress.
I do not have time for this.
I really don’t have time for this.
“It’s our turn. My turn,” Tailor says. I hear his voice as if it is coming from a distance.
I push up from the chair. “I can’t. I have to go.”
Tailor steps forward, caresses my cheek, then gives my face a little tap. Not quite a slap, not quite not one.
“I know you’re a little rebel,” he says. “But we are much bigger rebels, and we know how to keep order. It’s going to hurt you to disobey us.”
There’s something about this one. He’s sort of elegant, and probably somewhat twisted. Conroy is straightforward rough and domineering. Tailor is going to have his way with me too. I am anticipating that right now. I can feel myself tingling again, and not just because I have been ravaged twice.
I am so hungry for him. For all of them. I am adrift on a sea of mating hormones that make me feel as though I am going absolutely mad. But the fact remains I am on a dangerous mission, and now is not the time for me to get sidetracked.
“I need a break,” I say. “Just a little time.”
“Okay. Just a little while,” Tailor says.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say.
“She should be accompanied.”
