Page 53 of An Unending Claim
She swallowed the tip down her throat and I lost my mind, taking her mouth like I would if I were inside her pussy. Two more swallows and I roared as I poured my seed down her throat.
My knees were a little weak after coming so hard, but I focused on the strength I had and scooped Peyton into my arms before stalking to our bedroom. I set her on the bed and she went to lie on her back, but I captured her wrist and shook my head as I pulled her up onto her knees.
“Who do you belong to, Peyton?”
Her eyes flashed between green and gold a few times, then she dipped her head and said, “You. I’m yours, Nathan.” Then she raised her chin high and a stubborn glint sparked in her gaze. “Because I’m choosing to be, not because you subdued me.”
My mouth curved up and I gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Good, baby. That’s the way it should be.”
Peyton smiled, obviously happy with my response. “Can I come now?” Her tone was exasperated and her sass sent the small amount of blood that had begun to circulate right back down to my groin.
“Absolutely.”
Her eyes narrowed and she eyed me suspiciously. “That was too easy.”
I chuckled and swept her up into my arms just to lay her flat on the bed. “It’s my turn to submit, baby.”
Peyton’s face lit up and she grinned. “I love turnabout.”
“Me too,” I told her honestly, before I proved it. I ate her to two orgasms before taking her on all fours, then again while she rode me like the goddess she was.
Something had settled inside me when she finally admitted to being mine. My wolf had retreated, content and pleased. We had a lot of shit to deal with and work through, but that had been a huge step in the right direction.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
NATHAN
I’d ordered a desk for Peyton to put in my home office the week before. When it arrived, we argued over her having her own office, but I eventually won and we made space for it next to the small seating area across from the wall with the chess set. This allowed her to easily switch to the couch, or the recliner I’d also bought for the room. The next morning, Peyton and I were working at home when the phone on my desk rang. She raised her brow, silently asking what I was feeling from the pack. I did a quick scan and frowned when I found nothing that required my interference.
Then I glanced at my cell and realized it was dead, which meant whoever it was hadn’t been able to reach me that way. And since they hadn’t contacted me via the pack link, there were only a handful of people it could be.
“Probably Willa,” Peyton suggested, coming to the same conclusion.
“King,” I said when I hit the speaker button.
“Hey.”
Peyton smiled triumphantly, obviously proud of herself for guessing correctly. Her ability to go from hardass to soft and sweet would forever baffle and amuse me. I wouldn’t have thought one person could embody those two opposites so thoroughly.
“Hi, Willa,” Peyton called. They’d become friends over the last few weeks after Peyton had first reached out to her for help with something.
“Oh, hi, Peyton.” Willa’s tone was hesitant and I inferred that she wasn’t sure Peyton should hear whatever she had to say.
“Go ahead, Willa. She’ll just find out anyway. Then we’ll both be raked over the coals for our good intentions to protect her.”
Peyton rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer.
“Azreal came to HQ. He’s threatening to burn the place down with hellfire if you don’t meet with him.”
“Fuck,” I grunted, and my wolf growled menacingly. Not a name either of us wanted to hear, especially at that moment.
Azreal was a powerful demon, the king of the Underworld. Most of the world thought Lucifer reigned, but the real truth was that Lucifer was simply a figurehead.
The Underworld lived on their own terms while on the surface. However, they had strict rules for remaining covert, and Azreal was not a forgiving ruler, so we rarely had to police demons—except for the ones who were bitter about being cast out. Despite the fact that Azreal was basically the king of sin, he was not without logic, and he understood the necessity for the ISC in some circumstances, so in a small gesture of cooperation, he had two emissaries on the ISC.
Similar to my situation with Aubrey, Azreal and I had a relationship of begrudging respect. He was an evil son of a bitch, and he ruled with an iron fist, but he wasn’t unfair. Unless you counted giving second chances, because he did not tolerate fuck-ups.
I yanked my hair from the elastic holding it up, then pinched the bridge of my nose. Another in-person visit meant that whatever Willa had called to tell me was a major clusterfuck. And I had a solid guess as to what that information entailed. “Who?”