Chapter 12 — This Night Belongs to Us

~ LYRA ~

I want to argue with the strange, insistent voice within me, but Ronan’s cock is grinding into my stretched pussy and I’m in too much pleasure to think. The truth is, although I don't fully understand who that voice belongs to or what's happening to me, a part of me knows there’s no need to resist or deny what the voice said. For some reason, this moment feels right—as though it was meant to be. And I'm done beating myself up about it, not when it feels so damn good.

Ronan’s scent slams into my nose, effectively pulling my focus back to him and my throbbing pussy.

“Damn, Lyra, honey, you feel so good. Too good to be true.” His voice is hoarse, the words thick with lust as he clasps my hips, holding me in place. “Hold on, baby. I’m about to make you scream.”

Then he moves, pulling out and slamming back in, forceful yet steady. Each pound into my pussy hits a sweet spot, and blazing heat begins to build in my belly. My nails scrape along his ass, urging him on as I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. Just when I think I’m about to fall over the edge, he brings his hand between our bodies and finds my clit, his clever fingers pinching and massaging the bundle of nerves.

"Oh my god!" I gasp when he pulls out and returns with a particular thrust that hits some nub inside me I can’t explain. I cry out, rotating my pelvis to see if I can get him to hit it again. And boy, he so does. Three more thrusts, coupled with the expert glide of his fingers on my clit, and my soaking pussy is clamping around his cock for dear life, squeezing and milking as I soar to unmeasurable heights.

I fight for breath as he moves faster, trying not to be consumed by the fire that's spreading through my body. Electric prickles go from my pussy to my stomach, working their way up my torso. My nipples are more sensitive now, making the pressure of his chest against mine almost unbearable.

When the last spasms fade, I sag against the pillows. But to my shock, this monster of a man pulls me up and rolls me over, situating me on my hands and knees.

“Not yet,” he whispers, and lining up his cock to my wet pussy, slams right back in. I moan as his hard thrust forces me toward the head of the bed.

Oh god! I am a whore for his cock.

Embarrassment and lust wash over me as I grasp the rails on the headboard, using them for balance. Ronan moves over me, trapping me beneath him. I feel him move my hair aside, his lips whispering over my shoulder. Then shiver when I feel his tongue bathe the marked area behind my ears, the flicks soft but insistent, smoothing the agonizing fire the mark had begun to produce while we came together.

His teeth sink deeply into the mark, and I cry out at the sharp, piercing pain-pleasure that envelops me.

“You are mine,” Ronan growls, the word muffled by his lips against my flesh.

One last thrust and I feel his hard length jerking inside me as the hot splash of his seed fills my pussy, bathing my womb with lash after lash after lash of hot cum. It sets me off again as I come for the hundredth time. Still, he doesn’t release me. He keeps biting harder into my mark while hammering into me with so much force that my knees begin to tremble. And then, in a flash, the burn behind my ear vanishes. There’s no ache, no horrible prickling sensation, and no burn. It just disappears. I want to dissect it, but my body and mind are too tired to do so while I’m trying to remain upright.

Ronan goes still for a moment, his chest heaving against my back while his sweat-slicked skin rubs against me. I hiss when he pulls his teeth from my ears, leaving behind a dull throb. He murmurs something I can’t make out and laves the sore area with his tongue, taking his time to soothe the battered flesh. A part of me wants to hide my face in the pillows when he pulls his cock from my aching core. I whimper, unprepared for how sore I feel. My pussy pulses, ailing from the rough use, although I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

He falls to his side and takes me with him, spooning my much smaller frame with his. Our labored breathing fills the silence of the room, hard exhalations slowly evening out. Now that the sexual haze is gone, I’m embarrassed by my behavior. But beneath the embarrassment, there’s a level of contentment and peace. The way he holds me makes me feel safe, the smooth brush of his fingers over my hip reassuring.

“It’s time for you to rest,” Ronan instructs softly. “Cause I’m not yet finished with you.”

Closing my eyes, I bask in his touch and the heat of his body. This night belongs to us. Tomorrow I’ll ask questions and accept the consequences of my actions. I’ve always done as I was told as a child, behaving like the good girl my parents expected me to be. For one evening I’ll embrace what I’ve always wanted but never experienced.

I’ll explore everything Ronan wants to show me.

And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.

But by tomorrow, I’ll know if I’ve made the best decision of my life… or the worst.

---

~ TESS ~

I step out of my car in a fury, slamming the driver’s side door hard enough to make the metal rattle. My pulse is already thudding as I swipe strands of hair away from my face and march toward Moonmark Ink. Lyra called me forty-five minutes ago, sounding completely out of it—panicked and breathless like she’d done something she couldn’t take back.

She begged me to tell her parents she was fine.

But before I could ask a single question, the call dropped.

And that shit doesn’t fly with me. Not when it comes to Lyra.

Lyra is the reliable one between us. It’s the primary reason we’ve always been close. I’m the one with the volatile lifestyle, taking things as they come. So, when Lyra called acting all weird and shit, I knew something was wrong and refused to sit back and hope for the best. I’m going to get some answers, even if Lyra begged me not to do anything. And I’m going to start with the weird tattoo parlor she’s suddenly become obsessed with over the last few weeks.

I yank the parlor door open and step inside.

So flipping what? A werewolf tattoo shop.

What’s so special about that?

Lyra has always been fascinated by the supernatural. Why? I have no idea. Humans don’t mingle with werewolves or vampires. It isn’t safe. It isn’t normal. Rational people don’t venture to Ashridge Hollow.

Leave it to Lyra to start a new trend.

Although I approach the counter with a confident stride, a pang of fear clatters inside my chest. This isn’t home. This is wolf territory. I shrug the notion and my fear aside, relying on my anger and worry instead. Lyra needs me. If not, she’d never have contacted me so late at night. I need to find out where she is and make sure she’s safe.

“Damn it,” a deep, masculine voice yells from the back. “We’re not open. Come back during business hours.”

Displaying more bravado than I feel, I holler, “The open sign is on and the door wasn’t locked. I need to speak to a member of this establishment.”

Curses ring from the back of the building, and I hear a chair creak against the floor. I brace myself, pulse racing, my breath coming out in stilted gasps. No one can make me do anything I don’t want to do. Mortal police are weaker than supernatural law enforcement, but they don’t back down. Not when it comes to their people. I rely on that fact, even as fight-or-flight instincts kick in.

Shit! I’m going to be strong no matter what. I’m going to be strong for Lyra and make sure she is safe. Werewolf territory be damned.