Chapter 42: You’re A Waking Temptation
She did.
Slowly. So slowly. Opening herself to him, accommodating him inch by inch as she lowered herself down. And when she finally took him completely, when he was buried inside her all the way, they both growled.
The sound was pure animal. Pure need made manifest.
She held onto his neck for support, her fingers digging into his skin, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. For just a moment, they were still. Just existing in this space where he was completely inside her, where her body surrounded him, where the world had narrowed down to just this.
Then he moved.
He lifted his mouth to her breast and took one nipple between his lips. He didn’t suck gently. He sucked hard, drawing on her like he was trying to pull something from deep inside her. His tongue flicked across the peak, and she gasped his name.
His hips began to move beneath her.
Starting slow. Building. She was rising and falling on him, using his shoulders for leverage, and he was thrusting up into her, meeting every movement she made with intensity. The chair creaked beneath them, but neither of them cared. The sound of skin on skin, of their breathing, of the wet heat between her thighs was louder than the protest of the furniture.
He released her nipple and looked at her.
"I wasn’t supposed to do this this morning," he said, his voice rough with exertion. His hips never stopped moving....deep, methodical thrusts that were building toward something. "You’re a waking temptation, and I don’t have a choice anymore."
"I’m sorry," she whispered.
"Don’t apologize," he growled. He adjusted the angle and began pounding into her harder, faster. The chair was rocking beneath them now, the movements becoming almost frantic. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he used her, and she was meeting him thrust for thrust, her head thrown back, her body completely open to him.
Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Time became meaningless.
He switched to the other breast, taking that nipple into his mouth and drawing on it with the same intensity. She was making sounds now....not quite words, just the sounds of a woman being thoroughly fucked, her body being completely claimed by a man who couldn’t stop even if the world was ending.
His movements became more erratic. Deeper. His thrusts were no longer controlled, they were desperate. Like he was trying to drive himself so deep inside her that she would become a permanent part of him.
"Fuck," he breathed against her breast. "You’re so....I can’t...."
He came like that, buried inside her, his face pressed against her breast as he released. But he didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed there, his mouth finding her nipple again, and he began to draw on her like a baby searching for milk. Like he was trying to consume her from the inside out.
When he finally pulled away, he was breathing hard. His entire body was shaking with exertion.
He stood up, lifting her with him, her body still impaled on his cock. He carried her to the bed and laid her down carefully, his movements suddenly gentle in a way that contrasted sharply with the brutality of what they’d just done.
She thought he was going to continue. She thought he’d keep using her now that they had the bed.
But instead, he pulled out slowly.
And then he did something that seemed almost impossible given what had just happened.
He touched her face. His hand was still shaking, but his touch was careful. Tender. He traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. Then his fingers moved to her hair, still damp, and he stroked it back from her forehead.
For a moment, he just looked at her.
"Clean up," he said quietly. His voice was rough, wrecked from exertion and from something else, something that looked almost like emotion. "Marcus will take you to your pack in an hour. You’ll stay there with your mother. You’ll come back before noon tomorrow."
She stared at him, confusion written across her face. After what had just happened. After the intensity. After the way he’d used her. Why was he sending her away?
"Do you understand?" he asked.
"Yes, Alpha," she whispered.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Just once. Just for a moment.
Then he walked out of the room without another word.
Lilith lay in her bed, her body still trembling, her mind unable to process what had just happened.
He’d been so gentle at the end. Had touched her face like she mattered. Had kissed her forehead like she was something precious.
And then he’d sent her away.
She got up slowly and moved to the shower, trying to understand a man who could fuck her into absolute submission and then treat her like she was something worth protecting.
She had forty-five minutes before Marcus arrived to drive her to Shadowmere.
And she still didn’t understand why Sebastian had let her go.
***
The knock came at 8:15 AM.
Three sharp raps against her bedroom door, and Lilith’s entire body went rigid. She’d been waiting for it, had known it was coming, had overheard Sebastian telling someone in the hallway that "the omega needs an hour to pack"....but the actual sound of it still made her heart race.
She’d only been back in this room for less than twenty-four hours. Only had time to learn the layout, to understand the weight of the estate, to feel the strange mix of captivity and control that came with being here.
Now she was leaving.
"Yes?" she called out.
The door opened. An omega warrior stood in the doorway....neutral expression, professional courtesy, the kind of face that had learned not to judge. "The driver is waiting. You have one hour to pack."
"I understand," Lilith said.
The omega closed the door without another word.
Lilith stood slowly. Her body still ached from this morning with Sebastian. The soreness was deep, internal, a reminder of what his hands had done to her. Of the way he’d looked at her face afterward like she was something he couldn’t quite understand.
