Page 118 of Claim of Blood
Lander exhaled shakily, willing himself to soften, to stop bracing for a war he’d already lost. His thighs trembled with effort, his forehead pressed to the sheets, sweat cooling against the cotton.
“That’s it.” Adam’s voice curved around him. A second finger slipped inside, slow and unrelenting. The stretch stung, but Lander didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. His body was no longer listening to the part of his mind that still clung to defiance.
“Gods,” Lander breathed, burying his face in the mattress. He wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a prayer.
The stretch burned, pleasure and pain twining together. Lander buried his face deeper in the sheets, ashamed of the sounds escaping his throat—needy, desperate sounds he couldn’t control. The fingers moved with devastating precision—scissoring, stretching, curling. When they brushed that spot inside him, Lander’s hips jerked, a helpless sound tearing from his throat.
“Why fight what feels good?” Adam’s tone was maddeningly calm. “Why deny yourself?”
“Because—” Lander gasped, his voice breaking apart under the weight of his own honesty. “I’m supposed to be in control.”
Adam chuckled, low and knowing. “Not here. Not with me.”
A third finger slid in, pushing the burn to the edge of the unbearable. Lander whimpered, every muscle in his body tensing, then giving. His hips pressed back on instinct, desperate for more, for fullness, for the pressure that drove out thought and left only sensation.
“You see?” Adam said, brushing a kiss against Lander’s shoulder. “Your body knows.”
And it did. Lander’s cock throbbed, heavy between his thighs, leaking. His pulse roared in his ears, every nerve ending on fire. He no longer had the strength to pretend otherwise.
When Adam finally withdrew his fingers, Lander let out a sound that was almost a sob. The absence ached.
“Look at me,” Adam ordered.
Lander turned his head, meeting Adam’s gaze over his shoulder. Something in those ancient eyes made his breathcatch. Power. Possession. And beneath it, something terrifyingly gentle. Something like tenderness.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” Adam said, voice rough with need. “And you’re going to let me.”
It wasn’t a question. It was gravity. Inevitable. Irrefutable.
Adam pushed forward, breaching him in one slow, relentless thrust. Lander cried out as his body stretched to take the intrusion. It was too much. Not enough. Too slow. Too perfect.
His fingers clawed at the sheets, the burn and fullness making his thoughts scatter like birds.
When Adam bottomed out, they both stilled. Lander could feel every inch of him, could feel Adam’s heartbeat pulsing in sync with his own. It rooted him. Undid him.
“Mine,” Adam growled, hands gripping Lander’s hips tight enough to bruise.
Then he began to move.
Each thrust drove the air from Lander’s lungs, punched stars into his vision, made his whole body rock forward with the force. The stretch, the pressure, the relentless rhythm, it was maddening. Liberating. Blissful.
“Yes,” Lander gasped, the word torn from somewhere deep and terrified and true. “Yes.”
Adam’s hand fisted in his hair, hauling him up onto his knees. The new position made Lander arch, made Adam drive deeper. The angle hit something; he cried out, breath stuttering.
“Stay right there,” Adam commanded, his voice thick with control and reverence. His grip tightened on Lander’s hip, anchoring him, owning him.
Lander’s head fell back against Adam’s shoulder, his throat bare and vulnerable. Adam leaned in, lips brushing the skin of his neck like a lover and a predator both.
Then Adam stilled. His rhythm faltered.
A gentle finger traced the faint marks on Lander’s throat. The touch made him freeze, shame and fear cutting cold through the molten heat.
“These are...” Adam’s voice dropped, uncertain.
Lander tried to pull away, but Adam’s arm locked around him, dragging him back. The movement buried Adam even deeper, made Lander gasp as his body jolted.
“Are they mine?” Adam asked softly against his ear.
