Page 50 of Wulver's Flame

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The way a mate should.

Chapter 22

Liùsaidh

When my face hit the pillow, it jolted me from his spell, but then he lifted my hips and shoved a pillow beneath me, settling my body exactly where he wanted it. He straddled my legs, and the thick heat of his cock pressed between my cheeks.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’ve dreamt of your rear cheeks, Liùsaidh, relived every moment of my rut for weeks,” he rasped.

I felt it through the bond—his need, his ache, and beneath it all, the sharp burn to punish.

When I tried to spread my legs for him, he pressed his weight down, pinning me.

“No, Liùsaidh. You’ll keep those thighs closed and feel every part of me tear into your gaping bloom. And when my knot splits you open, you’ll remember who you are. Liùsaidh Flameheart. Mate.Husfreyja.Skækja mín.”

Each title made my toes curl, and slick drip between my folds.

He leaned over my back until I felt his face against my hair.

“Andmóður,” he whispered in my ear.Mother.

The reverence wasn’t only in his voice—it rippled through the bond, overwhelming and powerful like a sacred vow. It flooded my chest, curled around my ribs, and settled deep in my womb.

I clutched the pillows, biting my lip as I pressed my arse back against the thick, searing heat of his cock between us.

His breath caught. Mine faltered.

We were past want. Past reason.

I was his.

And he would remind me with every thrust, every stretch from his cock, who I belonged to.

“Did you miss having me inside you, Liùsaidh?” he asked softly, but the demon in him rubbed his stiff cock between my cheeks, teasing me.

He gripped my hair and twisted my head to the side, sniffing me before he dragged his tongue to the faded bite mark. His teeth grazed over his mark, and his hot breath fanned my neck, until I arched my back, pressing my breasts against the coarse linen.

He chuckled, low and dark, with a knowing tone. “Let’s see if your cunt remembers me.”

I closed my eyes as his weight lifted from my back, shifting to the backs of my thighs. The slick head of his cock dragged down through my folds, rubbing up and down until I was slicker still.

“Yes,” I whispered when he pressed against my opening, aching for the stretch.

He was slow, teasing and pushing a little in before snatching his staff away again. I kicked my legs up, trying to reach his back.

“Mmm, like the summer’s ripe fruit,” he said, gripping my cheeks so tight that I winced.

He released them before—

SLAP.

I gasped and clenched around him. He groaned in reply and pushed his cock deeper.

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

With each slap to my arse, he thrust and made me clench around him.