Impregnating Her Novels & Stories

My breath turns sharp. I see her—eyes wide, lashes wet, thighs trembling. She’ll hear me before she sees me. My boots against the concrete. My breath. She’ll think it’s punishment. It’s not. It’s belonging. I’ll grab her hair. Yank her into my chest. Let her feel the weight of me. Remind her she was made for this. For me. I’ll stretch her. Fill her. Mark her. Until she forgets what it meant to be untouched.

I don’t know what that would do to our bond, or how much that would kill me, but all of a sudden, I can see what she is hinting at. She thinks dressing up and looking good will turn his head more than it already is. Make him want me more, in hopes he will find the will to stand up and claim what is rightfully his. Maybe push his lust buttons enough to force his hand, to mark me in the heat of passion like he almost did that night in the study. When the hormones of imprinting were at their strongest.

I murmured, stepping closer. She did not respond, her focus entirely on the bed. I froze as realization dawned. She was trying to climb onto the mattress, the very thing she had stubbornly avoided since her arrival. I stood there, watching as she dragged herself onto it, her body trembling with the effort. When she finally settled into the bed, it seemed to come alive, shifting and wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. Her breathing began to slow, her pale cheeks gaining a faint blush of color as our enchanted bond worked its magic.

It was a private performance, and she was my perfect, dying audience. I tried my best tactics. The rose oil was a personal touch, a little something to amplify the Tainted venom already burning her from the inside out. I coaxed. I promised. I threatened. I dripped the agony into her wounds until her body was a screaming canvas of pain. And through it all, she refused to break. Not a sound. Not a shift. She took my little secrets to the grave, stubbornly refusing to confirm what I needed to know: that my little Rogue Human was indeed the Prince’s fated mate.

she says as if embarrassed. “Wet is good,” I reply, and she looks up. “Very, very good.” I can hear how raspy my voice is, and I know I need to pull it together. “There will be a hole, an entrance. You want to put your finger in it.” She slides her finger up and down her slick center until she finds the hole. She pushes her finger in, inhaling sharply. “Like this?” But she’s only one knuckle in. “Deeper.”

I wanted to sleep. Sleep, but in her arms. I was craving to hold her. I want to take the time back when she used to cuddle with me. Furthermore, I missed it. Not only that, but I missed her every behavior. I missed her scent. I missed her soft silky locks on my face. Likewise, I missed her body against mine. Hearing a knock on my door, I yelled a come in. It was Riggs,“ hey dude. Wow, you look beautifully ugly”

“Behave, sweet thing. Time to go.” She walked ahead with a little limp. My grin widened. I’d drilled her good. --- The SUVs rolled out, warriors and witches surrounding us. She leaned against me, casting protective wards on my body like it was second nature now. My pride swelled at how far she’d come. She whispered something about “BBQ-ing rogues,” her sadistic little smirk making me chuckle. She dozed off in my lap, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d planted my pup inside her last night.

It’s like my Lycan has vanished. “Come in me,” She cries, picking up her pace. “Come in your mate. Fill me up and breed me.” I shake my head but that haze, that hollowness, it’s taking over, it’s overwhelming what little fight I have left. “Breed me.” She screams again. “Fill me with your pups.”

Her childhood is a sharp, vivid force, a bright, living energy that fills the space with life and the thrill of discovery. The scent of wolfsbane is overpowering, a sharp, unyielding presence that fills the space with life and the thrill of the unknown. Her body's response is violent and immediate, a vivid, living force that fills the space with life and the thrill of discovery. The suppressed instincts are a bright, wild energy, a fierce, cutting force that fills the space with life and the thrill of the unexpected. The memories press in, a sharp, vivid energy that fills the space with life and the thrill of the unknown. Her past is a bright, unyielding presence, a fierce, living energy tha

She said, with a little smug which she had from the first. Honey. The word is so relatable with her voice which is bold yet soft and sweet yet salty. I didn't give up on my attitude so I stepped towards her. This time, she let her hands fall down her thighs as she stepped back. I kept stepping forward until she hit the nearest wall. “Don't you think so, dear? Then let me show you who I am and where you are.” I gripped her neck tightly, making her almost choke to death. She struggled to speak and make noise but she tried to remove my hands on her neck and push me away. My tall and strong body would never give her a chance to push me away so easily. Because I'm not easy.