SAMSON MADE LOVE TO HIS LUNA

MABEL

The room was pitch-black, drowned in the heavy, suffocating silence of 2:00 AM.

I was drifting in that foggy space between sleeping and waking, my body still sore and aching from the dry friction of my own fingers. I turned over onto my side, wrapping the silk sheet tightly around my waist, when a cold shiver suddenly ran down the back of my neck.

My inner wolf didn't whine, but my heart instantly dropped into my stomach.

I opened my eyes. Through the thick darkness of the bedchamber, I saw a tall, massive silhouette standing right beside the edge of my mattress.

My breath caught in my throat. I panicked, reaching my shaking hand out toward the nightstand, desperate to turn on the bedside lamp and see the face of the intruder. I wanted to scream for the guards, to call for help—but as my fingers brushed the warm lampshade, my gaze fell downward.

The moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains hit the figure's body.

He was completely naked. Standing right in front of my face was a man with broad, muscular shoulders, a rock-hard chest, and a penis so huge, rigid, and fully erect that it looked almost unnatural. It throbbed in the dim light, thick and heavy, glistening slightly at the tip.

The sheer size of the penis in front of me got me completely carried away. My mind went blank. The fear, the panic, the desire to turn on the light—all of it vanished in a single fraction of a second. I didn't care who he was anymore. I didn't care if he was a ghost, a rogue, or a demon sent from the underworld. Looking at that massive tool, I knew with absolute, primal certainty that he was here for sex.

And my starving, dried-up body needed it more than air.

He stepped closer to the edge of the bed. As his body shadowed over me, a thick, familiar scent hit my nose. He smelled like cedarwood, leather, and fresh rain. He smelled like Samson.

"Samson?" I whispered, my voice trembling, raspy and small in the dark.

He uttered no word. Not a single sound came from his throat. He didn't answer my question, nor did he offer a gentle touch.

Instead, he grabbed me by my hips with hands like iron vices, pulling my body to the very edge of the mattress. Before I could even part my lips to speak again, he aligned his thick, throbbing cap with my entrance and pushed his entire penis straight inside my pussy in one swift, brutal stroke.

A sharp, violent gasp tore from my mouth. "Ah... God!"

My eyes rolled back into my head. The stretch was intense, almost painful for a second, but the overwhelming wave of raw, liquid heat that followed made me dig my manicured nails straight into the bedsheets. My pussy, which had been dry for years, instantly surrendered, flooding around his thick shaft with hot, thick moisture.

I loved every single bit of pleasure it brought. It was a deep, agonizing, dirty relief that sank straight into my bones.

The thrusting began immediately—fast, heavy, and steady. The thudding sound of his hips slapping against my thighs echoed loudly through the dark room. He didn't pause to let me catch my breath. He rode me like a man possessed by a feral beast, his powerful muscles flexing over me in the shadows.

When he felt my legs begin to shake, he grabbed me by the waist, lifting my upper body off the bed as if I weighed nothing at all. He dragged me across the floor and slammed my back against the cold wooden wall beside the window.

"Mmm, yes... yes!" I whimpered, wrapping my arms tightly around his broad neck, burying my face against his warm collarbone.

He didn't care about my cries. He just kept driving himself deep into my pussy, pounding me against the wall until the picture frames on the room divider rattled. The contrast between the freezing wood against my spine and the burning, thick heat between my legs drove me completely out of my mind.

He wasn't finished. He threw me back onto the bed, grabbing my ankles and pulling my legs straight up until my knees were practically touching my chest, resting my heels over his broad shoulders. From that angle, his dick buried itself even deeper, hitting a sensitive spot inside my core that made me scream out his name into the quiet night.

"Samson! Oh... oh, Samson!"

He still said nothing. He just adjusted his grip, flipping me over onto my stomach without a word. He pulled my hips high into the air, forcing me into doggy style, and shoved himself back into my soaking wet vagina from behind. He slapped my ass with his large palm, the sharp crack echoing through the chamber, driving himself in deeper and faster with every heavy stroke.

Name any position—he did it. He used my body like a tool made solely for his satisfaction, turning me, lifting me, and bending me until every inch of my skin was dripping with sweat and covered in bright red marks.

Then, just when I thought my heart was going to explode from the sheer intensity of it, he pulled out completely.

Before I could even moan in protest at the sudden emptiness, he flipped me onto my back, grabbed my thighs, and pried them wide open. He dropped his head straight between my legs.

He began to suck my vagina just the way any woman would want.

His tongue was thick, hot, and relentless. He didn't just lick me; he ate my pussy with a wild, ravenous hunger. He lapped up my wetness, flicking his warm tongue hard against my swollen clitoris while burying two of his thick fingers deep inside my hole, pumping them in and out in perfect rhythm with his mouth.

I screamed. I threw my head back into the pillows, my hands tangling frantically in his dark, thick hair, pulling his face tighter against my core. The pleasure was so intense, so raw and suffocating, that my entire lower body began to spasm violently.

A massive, bone-shattering orgasm slammed through my body. I shook hysterically, my toes curling, my throat raw from screaming as my pussy clamped down hard against his fingers, drenching his face and hands in my wetness.

The man had come to satisfy me sexually. He had come to fulfill every dark, hidden craving I had starved for over the past five years.

The second my body relaxed and the shivering stopped, he pulled his fingers out. He stood up straight in the dark, wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He didn't lean down to kiss me. He didn't wrap his arms around me to cuddle. He didn't even wait for his breathing to settle completely.

Without saying a single word to me, he turned on his heel, opened the balcony door, and stepped out into the dark night, vanishing like a phantom into the fog.

I lay on the bed for a long time, completely naked, my legs spread wide, my breath coming in short, happy gasps. My body felt heavy, completely exhausted, but my mind was floating on a cloud.

I didn't feel bad that I had cheated on the Alpha, my husband. I didn't feel a single ounce of guilt or regret. I was just purely, overwhelmingly happy that I got sex after so many painful, lonely years. My pussy felt alive again. It felt full, sore, and thoroughly satisfied.

The next morning, the bright sunlight filtered through the grand glass windows of the pack house dining hall.

I walked down the stairs wearing a simple, elegant ivory gown. My hair was neatly brushed, falling smoothly over my shoulders, and for the first time in months, I felt no need to put on heavy makeup to hide dark circles. I felt light. I felt powerful.

When I stepped into the dining room, Samson was already sitting at the head of the long wooden table. He was dressed in his sharp Alpha tunic, reading a stack of border patrol reports while a servant poured hot tea into his cup.

I pulled out the chair directly to his right and sat down smoothly, picking up a silver fork to serve myself some scrambled eggs and fresh fruits.

Samson set his papers down on the table. He turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes scanning my face with a quiet, unreadable intensity.

"You're glowing," Samson told me, his voice deep and calm, breaking the quiet chatter of the household servants.

A slow, secret smile spread across my lips. I looked up from my plate, my heart doing a little flutter in my chest. I stared into his handsome face, trying to read his expression, not knowing for sure if he was fully aware of what had happened last night or not.

In my heart, I felt it was Samson who had come to my room. Who else could it have been? Who else had that massive, broad frame? Who else had that exact scent of cedarwood and rain? Who else looked so much like him in the dark?

I took a delicate sip of my tea, keeping my eyes locked on his, waiting for him to drop the stoic, serious leader act and acknowledge the wild fire we had shared just hours ago.

Samson leaned in slightly, his dark eyes narrowing into cold, sharp slits as he lowered his voice so the servants in the kitchen couldn't hear us.

"I've done my part," he said, his deep voice dropping into a harsh, dangerous whisper. "So you keep your mouth shut."

My smile widened, my chest swelling with absolute, triumphant satisfaction.

So it was him.

My Samson.

He had acted so disgusted in the afternoon, yelling at me like a holy man when I stripped my clothes off, pretending he couldn't touch me. But under the cover of darkness, when his Alpha pride couldn't be judged, he had come to my bed. He had traded his body for my silence, exactly as I had demanded.

He thought he was being smart, giving me what I wanted without talking to me, keeping it dirty and secret in the dark. But he didn't realize that by sleeping with me, he had given me the one thing I needed most. He had planted his seed inside my wet, willing womb.

I picked up my glass of fresh orange juice, raising it toward him in a silent, victorious toast.

"Your secret is safe with me, Alpha Samson," I whispered back, my voice dripping with sweet, triumphant venom. "As long as you remember who your Luna is."