Page 75 of Doomed
I feel her clench around me as her own orgasm tears through her. She cries out, her limbs shaking violently as pleasure overwhelms her.
“Fall apart while I fill you,” I rasp, surrendering everything I have to her depths.
As the last aftershocks of my release fade, Bianca’s strength gives out. She collapses forward, and I adjust to catch her, pulling her against my chest as we both sink to the floor.
She curls into me as I shift us to lie together on the floor, completely spent, her breath coming in short gasps against my neck. Her body feels boneless in my arms, utterly exhausted from our activities.
I cradle Bianca against my chest, stroking her sweat-dampened hair away from her face. Pride swells in my chest as I look down at her—flushed, exhausted, and thoroughly claimed.
“You were fucking incredible,” I murmur against her temple, pressing a kiss there. “Taking all of us like that. So perfect for me.”
I run my fingers along her spine, feeling the fine tremors coursing through her. The other men have backed away, giving us space, though their appreciative gazes linger on her.
“My beautiful, filthy girl,” I continue. “You shocked them all. Nobody expected you to be so fucking perfect, so willing to please.”
Bianca shifts against me, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. Despite her exhaustion, a slow smile spreads across her lips—not embarrassed or ashamed, but pleased—proud even.
“Really?” she whispers.
“God, yes,” I assure her, tightening my arms around her. “You have no idea how sexy you were. How perfect.”
Her smile widens, and she curls into me more completely, nuzzling against my chest like a contented cat. Her fingers trace lazy patterns across my skin as she presses closer, seeking my warmth and approval.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits softly, molding against me.
I press another kiss to the top of her head. “That’s because you’re mine now. Only I know what you need. What you crave.”
She hums in agreement, her smile evident against my skin as she curls even tighter against me, fitting herself against me like she was made for me.
25
BIANCA
Adeafening crash jolts me awake. My eyes snap open, disoriented in the dim light. Several women lie sleeping nearby on plush cushions and blankets, our exhausted bodies arranged like discarded dolls after the Hunt’s festivities.
Another sound—a grunt of pain—draws my attention to the left. My heart leaps into my throat.
Xavier has Knox pinned to the floor, his forearm pressed against my hunter’s throat. Knox’s face is turning an alarming shade of red as he struggles beneath his brother’s weight. Xavier’s expression is terrifying—pure rage contorts his features as he presses down harder.
“Xavier.” Mira’s voice cuts through the tension, surprisingly calm and commanding.
Xavier freezes, his head turning slightly toward her voice. An unspoken communication passes between them, which I can’t decipher in my exhausted state. Whatever she conveys with that single word makes Xavier’s grip loosen. He releases Knox, breathing heavily.
My muscles feel like lead, screaming from hours of exertion. Despite my concern for Knox, I can’t summon the strength to stand. All I can do is watch.
Knox sits up, rubbing his throat. His gaze finds mine across the room, and when he sees my expression, his face softens. He smiles at me—a reassuring gesture that makes warmth unfurl in my chest.
He pushes himself to his feet and makes his way over to me, leaving Xavier and Mira to their silent standoff. Without a word, Knox bends down and scoops me into his arms. I feel weightless against his chest.
“I’m fine,” he whispers against my hair. “You should sleep.”
I curl into his warmth, my head finding the perfect spot between his shoulder and neck. “Hold me?” The request slips out before I can stop it, my voice small and needy.
“Always,” Knox replies without hesitation. He carries me to a nearby sofa, settling into the cushions with me cradled in his lap.
I melt against him, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat beneath my ear. Sleep eludes me even as I settle against his chest. My mind races with images from the night—the Hunt, Knox’s possessive touches, the things I did that I never thought I would. Things I enjoyed far more than I should have.
“Can’t sleep?” Knox’s voice rumbles through his chest against my ear.
