Chapter 90: 90. Transitioning VII
Jericho
The first time I had my fingers inside her, my Lycan and I made a decision.
What had previously been a ’neither of us gets to touch her’ had instantly become ’it didn’t matter who I fucked over. Maisie Adams was mine."
I never truly believed it would happen. I had prided myself on self-control. It was acceptable to obsess from afar. To steal her pretty underwear as sacred keepsakes. To watch her while she slept. To follow her through the dark like a silent shadow. To stand in the shadows while her stupid wolf-mate fumbled her in an alley and somehow keep my murderous rage leashed.
Let her choose. Let her decide. I refused to ruin her life.
I didn’t know when exactly that changed. Maybe it was the first time she’d caressed the scar on my face. Or the first time she had called me beautiful. Or maybe it was the first night Tessa had been here, slipping into my bedroom even when she knew how terrible it got with my nightmares, how in those moments, I was my most vulnerable.
Couldn’t separate friend from foe, lover from friend. Didn’t know where I was. Who I was.
Tessa knew, but it didn’t stop her from drawing back the sheets and sinking down onto me anyway. Because she simply didn’t take no for an answer. Because of the four of us, I was the least controllable, and had never regarded her enough to be an open book.
Soren despised Tessa. But Soren knew when to fuck a woman to keep her mouth shut. Mercer wasn’t too far off. It took a different kind of coldhearted spite to fuck a woman who called you a bastard in bed. Quinlan held his grudges. Had held them since he was little and Tessa had burned the inside of Juliette’s foot on her first and last day at court because Quinlan was spending too much time with his half-sister. Tessa always had an advantage, something she held over your head to get what she wanted.
With me, she had none. So, whenever she wanted my hands on her, she simply snuck in when I was the least lucid.
That night, however, was the first time I’d kissed her and called her malyshka, so out of my mind, I didn’t realize who I was with until she had moaned my name against my ear and I realized it was the wrong voice, the wrong smell, the wrong everything.
This moment, in contrast, was everything right.
It was like coming home after being lost for such a long time. The feeling of... completeness that I hadn’t felt since the fire that ravaged everything I knew and loved.
The moment Maisie Adams let me inside her, it cracked me open in ways I had thought impossible, and the world narrowed to the searing grip of her body. Hot. Wet. Impossible. Whole.
She was so tight it bordered on pain. The kind that made a man weep.
Her scream was half agony, half triumph, and it lit every nerve in my body on fire.
"Malyshka," I gasped. My hands clamped down on her hips like iron, holding her still when every instinct demanded I drive upward and bury myself to the hilt. "Easy. You will tear yourself apart."
But she didn’t listen.
The scent of her virgin blood was thick in the air as it warmed and coated my cock, marking me in more ways than one.
Her blue eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with mindless hunger, that brilliant mind of hers drowned beneath waves of raw need. She looked at me like I was the only thing left in existence. Like I was her salvation and ruin.
She was so fucking beautiful.
Gods, how I worshipped her.
She had no idea. No conception of the obsession that clawed at my ribs every second I breathed near her. The way her fire, her defiance, her soul had burrowed into me like a brand.
My Lycan wanted out. He wanted control. He wanted to possess her, break her, just so we could assemble the pieces together to fit only me.
I was losing it too fast, too deeply, and though I knew I should be careful, soft, gentle, I couldn’t help the flex of my hips as I fed her yet another inch.
Her head fell back, a broken moan spilling from her lips. "Jericho..."
When she said my name like that, I felt exalted. I wanted to please. I was made to please. It was my honor, my fucking purpose, to please Maisie.
I gave it to her. Slowly. Until I was seated more than half way inside her.
The sight of her body yielding to mine, those perfect, perky breasts glistening and heaving, her stomach fluttering with the strain, her pussy stretched obscenely around my cock, it nearly undid me.
I held still, letting her adjust, my thumb brushing reverent circles over her clit until the pain in her eyes melted back into starving pleasure.
Then she began to move in what was an unmistakable fuck forward, her hips slamming down harder than she should’ve.
The tears that leaked down her cheeks made us so hard, red blotted out our vision. She was exquisite, even when she cried, and her sobs soon turned into mewls that went straight to my base and stretched the knot before she was ready.
She choked on a cry, her nails—claws—digging into my upper arm. "Big," I gasped. "Too... big—can’t... take it—"
"Nyet." One hand cradled the back of her neck, the other dug into her thigh. The words rose unbidden from the deepest part of me in form of a snarl before I could stop them. "Ty voz’mësh’ vsyo. Ty byla sozdana dlya menya. Ty moya."
Only after the words left my lips did I realize I had spoken them in my mother tongue. I pulled back just enough to meet her glazed eyes, repeating them in English so she would understand every word.
"You will take all of it. You were made for me. You are mine."
A shudder tore through her at the declaration. I felt her walls flutter wildly around the heavy knot as it continued to swell, pushing deeper, locking us together.
The knot was one of the reasons we rarely mated outside our race. For every nail, the old saying went, there was a perfect hole, and only Lycan females had the deep, elastic chamber built to bloom open, stretch, and lock tight around the swelling knot.
Maisie Adams... she fit. Perfectly. In ways no other woman ever had.
She keened, half sobbed, half moaned, her nails digging under my skin as she fought and widened her legs in the same breath.
I watched her through half-lidded eyes, hands guiding the rhythm, worshipping every roll of her body. The way her brown hair stuck to her damp skin. The flush across her chest. The little sounds she made when she ground down particularly hard, chasing that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back.
She came, crying my name, her body clenching around me like a vice. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I flipped her beneath me, pinning her wrists again, and drove into her through the aftershocks.
Maisie screamed, wild, breathless and drunkenly when another orgasm crashed over her. With reckless abandon, she moved so hard, blood and cum mingled, creating squelching noises that filled the room.
She arched up, biting at my jaw, her mouth hot on my neck as she worked her words into me, demanding more. And I gave it. Again and again.
And I knew I would never get enough of her.
