Page 76 of Claimed By Stone
"Well, let's get to it then," she said with a wicked smile.
Gods, she was perfect.
Of course, she was. She was mine.
Chapter 32
Seraphina
After setting me on the bed, Thavros got in and pulled me to his chest.
I turned in his arms, nudging my nose against his jaw until his deep brown eyes opened and watched.
“Thavros,” I whispered. “Claim me. I want to be yours in every way.”
His gaze sharpened, that lazy affection replaced by a slow, wicked smile. “Say it again,” he growled, his hand skimming down my hip to my thigh.
“Claim me,” I repeated, louder this time. “Make me yours.”
He kissed me then—hungry, like he’d been waiting for me to ask for this since the moment I awoke in his war room.
He positioned himself over me, eyes locked with mine as he pressed inside slowly. Inch by thick, aching inch. I gasped as he filled me, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, the burn of the stretch igniting something primal in my chest.
“Oh gods,” I breathed. “You feel… so big.”
His brow furrowed, but his smile deepened, something feral flashing in his expression. “And you love it,” he growled in my ear as he kissed my throat.
“I just—” I moaned as he rocked his hips gently, pressing even deeper. “What if I’m not… big enough to take your knot?”
He growled low, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. One large hand cupped my cheek as he leaned in. “You were made for me, little flame. You and only you are meant to take my knot.”
Then he kissed me, and I stopped doubting entirely.
Thavros kept his pace steady, dragging pleasure from me in slow, decadent waves. His kisses were deep, possessive, like he was trying to brand the taste of me into his soul. Every stroke sent heat curling tighter in my belly, until I was arching up into him, gasping against his mouth.
“Thavros—” I broke apart, shattering around him, my release hitting like a crashing tide. I clutched at his back, nails raking over his skin as stars burst behind my eyes.
He didn’t stop.
His hand slid under my thigh, lifting me slightly, and in one swift, fluid motion, he flipped me onto my stomach. I barely had time to gasp before he was behind me, pulling my hips up onto his thick thighs, positioning me exactly where he wanted me.
“Now I’ll show you,” he said, voice rough with need, “what it means to be claimed.”
The first thrust knocked the breath from my lungs. The second made me cry out. By the third, I had no words left, only sound—raw, ragged, desperate.
He pounded into me like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t bury himself deep enough, his body slamming into mine with relentless need. The sound of skin meeting skin, the rasp of his breath, the low groan he gave when I came again—everything blurred into pure sensation.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. I could only feel.
“Please,” I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for.
And then—with one final, brutal thrust—he pushed his knot into me. The stretch was impossibly intense, nearly too much. I screamed, my body clenched around him, and the orgasm that ripped through me was blinding.
I was full. So full. Locked to him. And I never wanted to let go.
Before I could catch my breath, Thavros leaned over me, his chest flush against my back, one massive arm curled around my waist. His teeth scraped over the curve of my shoulder—warning, promise, devotion all in one—and then he bit down, hard.
The sharp pain sang through my nerves, twisting with the lingering pleasure until it became something deeper, something elemental.
