Chapter 62: Not Going Anywhere
He goes completely still. Every muscle locks, every breath suspends, every part of him freezes like I’ve just said something impossible. I’ve spoken words he never expected to hear.
The silence that follows is so complete I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, can hear the distant sound of the others moving around in the main house, can hear everything except him breathing.
I say it again, because he needs to hear it. Maybe he didn’t believe it the first time.
"I love you, Ezra." My voice is steady now, certain, carrying all the emotion I’ve been holding back. "Thank you for protecting me from everything that might hurt me. But I need you to be a person too. I need you present, not consumed by vengeance. Need you here, with me, not drowning in rage and guilt."
The words hang in the air between us, and for a long moment nothing happens. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t give me any indication that he’s even heard me.
He explodes into motion.
Spins in the chair so fast I barely have time to register the movement before his hands are on my waist, and he’s lifting me. Papers scatter as he slams me down onto his desk, my back hitting the solid wood surface with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. His laptop crashes to the floor. Maps and documents flutter through the air like snow.
He drops to his knees in front of me, massive hands grip my thighs and spreads them wide, eyes dark and feral and filled with a need so intense it steals whatever breath I manage to recover.
"Say it again," he growls, and his voice is barely human any more.
"I love you," I whisper.
He doesn’t bother with my clothes, just tears them away with hands that shake slightly, exposing me to the cool air of the office and his burning gaze. His tongue is on my pussy, licking through my folds with broad strokes that make my back arch off the desk. He’s not gentle, devours me like a man starving, like he’s been denied this for three weeks and now that he has it again he’s going to take everything I have to give. His tongue fucks into me, hot and relentless, and I cry out at the sensation of finally, finally being touched by him again.
"That’s it, brat," he growls against my centre, the vibration of his voice sending shocks of pleasure through my entire body. "Let me hear you. Let them all hear how much you missed this."
His hands grip my thighs harder, holding me open for him, and I can feel bruises forming under his fingers. Can feel the way he’s marking me even now, claiming me with touch and pressure and the absolute possession in every movement.
One of his hands slides up my body to palm my breast, his thumb finding my nipple and rolling it roughly while his mouth continues its assault on my pussy. The dual sensation is overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once, and I can feel my orgasm building embarrassingly fast.
"Ezra," I gasp, my hands fisting in his hair, trying to ground myself in something solid while pleasure threatens to tear me apart. "I can’t—it’s too much—"
"You can," he snarls, pulling back just long enough to meet my eyes. His face is wet with my arousal, his pupils blown so wide there’s barely any colour left, and the feral possession in his expression makes my wolf howl with satisfaction. "You’re going to cum all over my face, brat. Going to give me everything. Understand?"
I nod frantically, beyond words now, and he dives back in with renewed intensity. His tongue finds my clit and circles it with perfect pressure while two thick fingers slide inside me, curling to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
He talks to me the whole time, voice muffled against my flesh but still commanding, still demanding my submission and my pleasure in equal measure.
"Fucking perfect," he growls. "So wet for me. Weeks and you’re still this ready, still this desperate for my touch. That’s my good girl. That’s my perfect little brat."
The praise mixed with the degradation, the gentleness mixed with the roughness, the absolute certainty in his voice that I belong to him, it’s all too much. My orgasm crashes over me with enough force to make me scream, my body convulsing on his desk while he works me through it.
He doesn’t stop. His fingers keep moving, his tongue keeps circling, and I feel something else building. Something bigger and more intense than anything I’ve experienced before.
"Wait, I think—oh god—"
I hold my breath and bear down without thought, with a pop I’m squirting, my release flooding over his face and his desk and everything within reach while he groans with satisfaction against me. The sensation is so intense I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything except shake and cry out while he drinks down everything I give him. He’s relentless, working me through the orgasm and into another one, his fingers never stopping their movement inside me, his mouth never leaving my clit.
When I finally come down, gasping and trembling and completely wrecked, he pulls back and looks at me with such raw possession it makes my wolf preen with satisfaction. His face is soaked, his hair dishevelled from my hands, and the bulge in his pants is so prominent it looks painful.
He stands slowly, hands moving to his belt.
"Turn over," he commands, his voice leaves no room for argument.
I scramble to obey, my limbs still shaky from the intensity of my release, and position myself bent over his desk. The wood is cool against my overheated skin, and I can feel my own wetness beneath me, evidence of what he just did to me.
His hands find my hips, positioning me exactly how he wants me, and the thick head of his cock presses against my slit.
With one brutal thrust he slides in. I cry out at the sensation of being filled so completely. He’s huge, stretching me almost to the point of pain, and the feeling of him inside me again is so perfect I could weep.
There’s no time to adjust, he’s fucking me with hard, deep strokes that make the desk scrape across the floor with each thrust. One hand grips my hip while the other presses between my shoulder blades, holding me down, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
"Missed this," he growls, his voice rough with need. "Missed being inside you. Missed feeling you clench around my cock. Weeks, Frankie. Weeks of denying myself because I didn’t trust my control."
His thrusts get harder, more desperate, and I can feel how much he’s been holding back. Can feel separation and longing and need pouring into every movement. The hand on my back slides lower, his fingers trailing down my spine, across my cheeks and with feather light touch he circles the tight ring of muscle before pressing inside with one thick finger and I gasp at the intrusion.
"Relax," he commands, his voice dropping into that dominant register that makes my wolf immediately submit. "Let me in, brat. Let me claim every part of you."
I force myself to breathe, to relax into the sensation, and his finger slides deeper. The feeling of being filled in both places is overwhelming, bordering on too much, but he’s talking me through it the entire time. Telling me how good I am, how perfect, how I’m taking him so well. His finger works in and out of my ass in counterpoint to his cock fucking my pussy, and the dual sensation has me climbing toward another orgasm.
"So fucking tight here," he growls, adding a second finger to my ass and making me cry out. "Gonna work you open slowly, get you ready for when I want to fuck this perfect ass. Would you like that, brat? Want me to claim every hole?"
"Yes," I gasp, beyond shame now, beyond anything except the need for more. "Please, Ezra, I need—"
"You need me to fill you up," he snarls, and his thrusts become brutal. "Need me to pump you so full of my cum you feel it for days. Need me to breed you like the perfect little mate you are."
The words send me over the edge, my pussy clenching around his cock as another orgasm tears through me. He roars his satisfaction, his fingers pressing deeper into my ass while his cock swells inside me, and then he’s cumming.
I feel every pulse, every rope of his release flooding my pussy. It seems to go on forever, his body shaking with the intensity of it, his growls filling the office while he empties himself inside me.
When he finally stops cumming, when the last pulse has faded and we’re both gasping for breath, he doesn’t pull out.
Instead he keeps himself buried inside me and brings his hand around to my pussy. His fingers find where we’re joined, gathering the cum that’s already starting to leak out, and he pushes it back inside me.
The sensation is obscene and possessive and absolutely perfect, and I whimper at the feeling of his fingers working his release deeper into my body.
"Soon," he growls into my ear, his body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the desk. "Soon I’m going to breed you properly. Going to knot you and mark you and make sure every person who looks at you knows exactly who you belong to. Going to fill this perfect pussy with my cum until you’re swollen with my pups. Would you like that, brat? Want me to breed you?"
"Yes," I whisper, and I mean it with every fibre of my being. "Please."
He makes a satisfied sound deep in his chest and finally, reluctantly, pulls out of me.
I feel the loss immediately, feel empty and aching without him inside me, but then I’m turned over and pulled into his arms. His kiss is deep and consuming, tasting of my arousal and his possession, and when he finally pulls back his eyes are clearer than they’ve been since I walked in.
"I love you too," he says quietly, his forehead pressed against mine. "I’m sorry I stayed away. I’m sorry I let the rage consume me instead of being here with you. But I promise you, Frankie—I will find whoever tried to hurt you. And I will make sure they never get another chance."
I nod, understanding that this is who he is.
That his love comes with this fierce protectiveness, this need to eliminate any threat before it can touch me. And I can accept that. Can accept all of him, darkness and light, rage and tenderness, because he’s mine and I’m his and nothing else matters.
"Just don’t disappear on me again," I whisper. "I need you."
"I’m here," he promises, and seals it with another kiss. "I’m not going anywhere."
