Chapter 11 — He’s Ours

~ LYRA ~

Ronan thrusts his hips against me, burying his hardness into the vee of my thighs as he sucks my nipple, and I nearly come apart when I feel the hard ridge of his cock through his denim. I’ve stroked the thick, stretched length in my dreams. I’ve even put the broad, mushroomed head into my mouth and sucked it like a lollipop. But in person, he feels larger, hotter, and more formidable.

The ache inside me returns, an emptiness that craves more. I frown, freezing beneath the large man above me, trying not to focus on the delicious motion of his tongue and the hot wetness of his mouth. I’ve just come three times, taken to a heavenly place that sent me soaring.

Wanting more—needing more—doesn't make sense. I know something is changing within me because to God, I’m not a wanton creature.

Ronan releases my nipple and lifts his head. He meets my gaze, and suddenly, my confusion vanishes, and a foreign instinct slams into place. His nostrils flare, and his bright amber-hued eyes are intense. His fingers caress my side, winding along my breast as he cups my face in his palm.

"Do you want me?"

"Yes," I whisper, unable to look away, lie, or resist. It’s as if my body is working against my mind because I can't seem to control the words that come out of my mouth.

"Tell me. I need to hear it."

I’m playing with fire, but I can’t help it. My body knows what it wants and craves, and it’s going to take it. If he leaves me now, I’ll go mad. The intensity of my need claws at me, a primal nature I didn’t know existed tearing its way to the surface.

"I want you."

He lifts away so quickly I don’t have the chance to cling to his muscular form. I come onto my knees, prepared to pounce on him, when he bends at the waist and removes his boots, peeling off his socks. His jeans cling to his body, his hard cock visible. My heart sputters for a moment, then starts to race. The damp heat between my legs increases. Popping the button fly, he moves toward the bed. A thin trail of dark hair runs from his navel down.

"Get me ready, baby. I want to feel that ripe mouth of yours."

Licking my lips, I inch closer, watching as he tugs at the jeans and his cock springs free. I hesitate, stunned at how much larger he is in reality—long and outsized, veins visible beneath the skin. The head is darker in color and broader than the base. That sexual part of me arises again, suffocating my fear, urging me forward.

My fingers barely meet when I wrap them around the silken flesh at the base, a steady pulse beating against my palm. I start slow, darting my tongue along the crown, collecting the shimmering bead that appears at the thin slit in the head. His taste bursts on my tongue—salty, masculine, and all Ronan. I open my lips and take him into my mouth, sucking at the tip, rubbing my tongue along the underside of his cock.

He hisses and wraps his fingers in my hair. "That's it. Oh fuck, honey."

I nearly panic when he hits the back of my throat, but he holds me in place and speaks in a low growl. "Swallow."

Tears burn behind my eyes, but I manage to do as he says. He groans and pulls away, returning for more of the same.

"You can do this, honey. Relax your throat and breathe through your nose. Show me how much you need me. Take me, Lyra. Take me deep."

I bob my head, taking him as far as I can. I force myself to constrict my throat, swallowing although it takes effort each time he thrusts into my mouth. He settles into a rhythm—slow and steady, rocking his hips.

"Yes. Just like that. Just. Like. That."

Bolstered by his reaction, I keep up the pace, worshiping his cock with my mouth and hands. I time it so my fingers glide along his swollen shaft with each retreat. I squeeze my fingers, tasting a hint of his semen, the flavor salty and tart. I moan when I imagine him coming like this, forcing me to swallow him down. Instead of being repulsed, the idea appeals to a side of me that has just breathed new life.

Taste him. Claim him. Make him ours!

My mark flares at the thought, burning white-hot behind my ear. I start to pull away, raising my hand to rub at the stinging spot. Ronan tugs at my hair and his erection slides from my lips. There’s no preamble, no soft petting as he thrusts me onto the bed, my head landing on the softness of the pillows. Then he’s there, coming over me, all muscle, tanned skin, and dangerous.

His hand trembles as he fists his cock and slides it along my wet cleft. "Do you accept me, Lyra?"

It’s not just sex he’s asking for. This is more profound. The part of me that craves Ronan in all ways roars the answer in my head, repeating it over and over. Pure sexual desire pulses within me, making my nipples harden and my pussy weep. Confused and shaken, I acknowledge the chorus in my mind, knowing I have to be making the right choice.

"Yes."

The broad head brushes past the folds of my sex and dips inside. I arch my back, wanting more of him. The burn behind my ear continues, as though the skin has been recently branded, the small area of flesh tingling painfully.

"Look at me," he growls.

Our gazes meet. I don’t turn away, looking him in the eye as he plunges deeper into my body. My pussy stretches, unaccustomed to his size and length, making way for his entry. There’s no pain, only an incredible fullness as he slides deeper. Dimly, I realize he isn’t using protection, and that he needs to put on a condom. Before I can bring the matter to his attention, his hips surge forward as he buries himself to the hilt, the head of his cock bumping against my cervix.

"I knew you'd be like this," he rasps, staying still, his length pulsing inside me. "So hot, wet, and tight as hell. You are squeezing me like a fist, honey. You're definitely going to scorch me alive."

Bringing my hands up, I bury my fingers in his biceps. Like this, I can't tell where I start and he ends. We’re one, connected most intimately. Our skin collides, and the smoothness of his chest teases my nipples. I rub against him, aching in ways I can't describe.

I can’t prevent a panicked gasp when he pulls away, the thickness against my vaginal walls retreating. I lower my fingers, running them down his back to his buttocks. Before I can force him back, he thrusts into me again, the weight of his testicles slapping my ass. White speckles dot my vision, the pleasure so intense I can’t stand it. Nothing exists at that moment—no worries about what I’m doing, no concern about the mark behind my ear or the fact I’m having sex with a virtual stranger.

Don't say that! something suddenly roars inside me, and I freeze.

He's not a stranger, the voice corrects. He's ours.