Sarah Killian: The Marching Tides

Samantha’s POV

“Damn, you’re f*cking tight, Samantha,” Dominic muttered as he pushed his cock further in. I gripped his shoulders, a shock of pain jolting through me as he continued, he looked focused but detached.

I looked up at him, trying to see something, anything, that would make this feel real, feel like more than a marital duty. His sharp jaw, the dark stubble that lined it, his deep, almost dangerous eyes. He had tanned skin and long, thick lashes that framed those intense eyes, a face that could draw anyone in without a word. He was everything a she-wolf could want, including me, and he knew it.

This was the man I’d loved for years, the Alpha everyone admired, the one who made every other girl in the pack watch him with a mix of awe and longing, wanting, craving his attention, his touch, and everything of him. And now, here he was—my husband. I should have felt like the luckiest woman alive. But with every thrust, it was painfully clear that to him, I was just someone to use, a toy to play with anytime he needed.

He didn’t look at me as a man looks at his mate, not with warmth, not with love. For him, I was just an object to toy with. His movements were rough, devoid of any real connection. He held my hips firmly, but there was no tenderness in his touch—just the persistent push and pull, it was not intimate.

I wanted to tell him it was my first time, but before I could say anything, he pushed harder, filling me with a sudden pressure that made me gasp. I bit my lip to stifle a scream, tears pricking my eyes. He didn’t pause or seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

This was supposed to be everything I’d ever dreamed of, and for years, I had wanted him, every part of me craving a life with him, believing that one day, he’d see me. He’d truly see me… and love me.

But now, all I could feel was the hollow space between us, the cold stare despite the warmth of his body, the detached look despite how close we were, the distance that seemed to separate us despite being skin-to-skin. I bit my lip to hold back the tears, refusing to let him see the way this tore me apart. He leaned down, his dark hair falling across his brow, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to his skin—a scent that once filled my fantasies, but now only reminded me of how unreachable he was.

I see him as my everything, yet he looked at me as if I were nothing, and this affair, as if he were just performing some unavoidable duty. However, for me, it was more than just a duty.

“Relax, you wanted this,” he whispered to my ear, almost impatiently, his hands pinning down my hips, steadying as he stretched my pussy, tearing my hymen as he thrust deeper.

Dominic’s movements quickened, each thrust driving me closer to the edge, a place where pain and desire blurred together. His lips brushed my neck, and I thought, hoped, for a moment he might mark me, that he might claim me as his. But instead, he pulled back, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched me writhe beneath him.

“Look at you, such a slut,” he muttered with disdain. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be used like this?” he thrust with a mocking tone.

“No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, caught between shame and the humiliating pleasure he forced me to feel.

He tightened his grip, thrusting even harder. “Don’t lie. You wanted this marriage. You wanted me.” His eyes bore into mine, challenging, daring me to deny it.

“Dominic,” I implored, feeling the build-up in my core. I clenched around his cock as he banged me nonstop, “f*ck,” he grunted, gripping my hips tightly enough to leave bruises.

The tension continued to build inside me, needing to be released, yet I couldn’t climb the high without him taunting me with every hard thrust and withdrawal, denying me the release that I craved.

He rubbed his fingers onto my clit, sending me in another maddening spiral, he pinched and circled, and my back arched, aching for more pressure as he continued to fill me with his cock, “Don’t stop,” I moaned.

The shame burned through me, but the sensations overwhelmed everything else. I was caught in his spell, trapped between my own desires, and my own helpless love for a man who saw me as an object.

“Yes. Ah!” I rolled my hips meeting his thrust, closing my eyes, drunk in the sensation that burned my body, pushing me to the edge. The shock of electricity coursing through me every time he deliberately hit my G-spot in a harder yet more pleasuring way was unbearable, teetering me to the brink of collapse.

“You want more, huh?” he teased, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watched me squirm beneath him. “Tell me how much you want it, Samantha.”

“No,” I whimpered, catching my breath while our body rocked in every thrust he made.

“Liar.” He slammed and I yelped. “Your tight pussy is choking my cock, Samantha. Lie, I dare you,” he threatened as he stopped moving, denying me what I needed.

“I want you,” I breathed, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I need you.”

“Beg,” he commanded, pausing, his breath heavy against my skin. “Beg for it, Samantha. Show me how much you want this.”

“Please…” I whispered, my voice hoarse, defeated.

“Please what?” He teased, eyes narrowing, savoring every moment of my submission.

“Please, Dominic… I need you.”

A dark satisfaction lit his eyes as he resumed his rhythm, harder, faster, each thrust sending me spiraling toward the release I both dreaded and craved. I gripped the sheets, my body arching toward him as he filled me completely.

“god, you feel amazing,” he groaned, his hands roaming over my body. I could feel his fingers digging into my thighs, holding me in place as he drove deeper, harder, claiming me in a way I had only fantasized about.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, my breath hitching with every powerful thrust.

The way he said it made my heart race, and my core throbbed, sensing the impending release. The tension coiled tightly within, each thrust pushing me closer to that edge.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, grunting as he chased his own high. “I want to see you fall apart for me.” He thrust harder, and I felt that overwhelming wave crashing down, pulling me under.

“Oh god, I’m—” The tension built inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I could no longer hold back. With one final, brutal thrust, he pushed me over the edge, and I shattered, the pleasure wracking my body in waves that left me breathless.

He drove into me one last time, harder, more desperate, riding my climax, and filling me completely as I lost myself in the sensation.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his body tightening as he released his load inside me, spurting, filling my cunt.

I remained still, trembling from the aftershocks, he pulled away, leaving me cold and exposed. I watched as he stood, reaching for his clothes with a casual indifference that felt like a slap.

He barely glanced at me, as if I were already forgotten.

“Where are you going?” I managed to ask.

“Don’t overthink it,” he replied, pulling on his shirt. “It’s just sex, nothing more.”

“But… you didn’t mark me,” I stammered, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. My heart sank at the thought, that even though I gave him myself, he still couldn’t love me.

He paused, looking back at me with a hint of annoyance. “Mark you? Why would I do that? This was an arranged marriage, Samantha. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it means anything to me.”

“Dominic… we’re married,” I tried to remind him, desperation clawing at my voice.

He laughed coldly, mocking, and indifferent. “Marriage is just a contract, Samantha. You’re nothing more than a Luna with no wolf, an obligation I’m bound to. Don’t read more into it than that.”

As I lay there alone, memories of our wedding flooded my mind.

The sun streamed through the bridal suite as I stood before the mirror in my wedding dress. Lena, my soon to be mother in law, entered and gasped. “Oh, Samantha, you look absolutely stunning!”

“If only your mother could see you in this dress,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.

I forced a smile. “She would have loved it. But I’m lucky to have you, Lena. You’ve been like a mother to me.”

Lena beamed, pride shining through her tears. “You’re going to be a beautiful Luna. Dominic is so lucky to have you.”

Just then, the door swung open, and Dominic strode in. The moment he saw me, his expression soured. “What’s all this? A wolfless Luna in a fancy dress? How quaint,” he mocked.

Lena stepped between us, glaring. “Dominic, that’s enough. Samantha is going to be your wife. She doesn’t need to have a wolf to be a Luna.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “You think that’s enough? This is ridiculous.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “It’s considered unlucky for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding. You need to leave.”

“Unlucky?” Dominic laughed. “What does that even matter? I’m unlucky enough to be marrying Samantha as it is.”

His words cut deep. I swallowed hard, trying not to cry. I had hoped for kindness from him today, but instead, he served me disdain.

“Get out, Dominic,” Lena said firmly. “Let her have this moment. Go find something to occupy your time.”

Dominic glared but eventually shrugged, turning to leave. “Whatever. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I’ll ever play the doting husband. You’re just a wolfless Luna to be used.”