Page 45 of Beckett's Fate
Slowly, he withdrew from her dripping core, causing Irene to whimper in frustrated need. Beck spun her around and devoured her mouth once more, his hands gripping her hips as he lifted one of her legs and drew it over his hip. Moving back between her legs, he rubbed against her intimately before plunging two fingers inside her, his lips trailing down her throat.
Irene had never experienced such complete and utter bliss with any man before. All she could do was give in to the pleasure he bestowed upon her, his skilled fingers bringing her to another mind-blowing orgasm that still left her craving more.
Beck lifted her effortlessly and mounted her, driving deep into her slick sheath as she moaned in ecstasy. He ravaged her mouth and body with equal intensity, growling and groaning in unbridled pleasure.
Then, suddenly, Irene felt Beck's hand cupping her face and pulling it away from him, exposing her throat. There was a sudden recognition of what he was about to do—mark her as his own.
"No, Beck," she gasped, trying to resist even as he continued to thrust into her relentlessly.
“And who is to stop me, Irene? The other she-wolves in your pack? You are mine, and you will bear evidence of that.” Beck's voice was low and menacing, his grip on her chin tight and unrelenting.
With a primal growl, he claimed her lips in a forceful kiss, silencing any protests she may have had. Finally capable of rational thought, Irene knew that what he was about to do could never be undone. She began to push against him, trying to resist, but he was too strong, too dominant. As he lowered his head towards her neck, she knew what was coming.
She screamed as he entered her without hesitation, his powerful thrusts causing her body to respond with raw pleasure. He marked her neck with sharp teeth, claiming her as his mate in the most primal way possible. He bit down savagely, she knew to ensure the mark would be a prominent reminder to all that saw it that she was the mate to an alpha wolf.
There was no escape from the intense pleasure coursing through Irene's body as Beck continued to ravage her. With each thrust, she could feel his seed filling her, marking her as his forever. Her screams turned to moans as yet another orgasm ripped through her system, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.
Beck held onto her tightly as his own release overtook him, spilling everything he had into her. In that moment, they were one, bound together by their primal desire and need for each other. And as they stood there in a tangled mess of limbs and passion, all Irene could do was revel in the intensity of their connection.
They finally broke apart, their breath mingling in the narrow space between them. “Mine,” he purred.
Her heart ached at the raw emotion in the word, the vulnerability that lay beneath his strength. “And you’re mine,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.
But before the moment could settle, a distant noise reached their ears—the unmistakable sound of voices and footsteps echoing down the passageway. Beck and Irene swore in unison, the reality of their situation crashing back over her like a wave.
“They’re coming back,” Beck said, his tone grim as he pulled her close.
Irene nodded, her resolve hardening as she stepped back and grabbed her pack. “Then we keep moving,” she said, her voice steady and determined.
Irene knelt beside Beck, her hands steady despite the chaos still crackling in the air around them. His blood glistened against the pale skin of her fingers as she worked to clean the wound on his flank. The gash wasn’t as deep as she had feared, but the sight of it still made her heart twist painfully in her chest.
“Are you all right?” he asked, looking pointedly at the bite mark.
“I’m not the one who’s bleeding,” she muttered, reaching up to tentatively touch the wound on her neck. “Okay, so I’ve got a little blood, but you’ve got more.” Her voice was softer than she’d intended. She knew she should be angry with him, but she couldn’t muster the energy or the emotion.
Beck chuckled, the sound low and gravelly, though his eyes betrayed the weariness he was trying to hide. “Not going anywhere without you. But tell me something—what else is in that magic backpack of yours? Bandages, disinfectant, snacks… What are you, Mary Poppins?”
Irene shot him a look, though the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. “That would make you what, exactly? My cocky, oversized chimney sweep?”
He grinned, his teeth gleaming even in the dim light of the cavern. “I prefer ‘rugged and heroic partner,’ but I can see why you’d settle for ‘chimney sweep.’”
“Beck, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to accidentally pour antiseptic directly into this wound.”
“Accidentally, huh?” he teased, though he winced when she applied pressure to the bandage.
“Hold still,” Irene said again, but her voice was softer now, her gaze flickering to his. “I mean it.”
The joking ebbed, replaced by an energy that hummed between them like a live wire. She finished wrapping the wound, knotting the fabric securely. For a moment, she let herself linger, her fingers brushing his skin as she pulled her hands away.
“Done,” she said quietly, straightening up and forcing herself to put some space between them.
Beck flexed his muscles, testing the bandage. “You’ve got a real talent for this, you know. If the whole treasure-hunting thing doesn’t work out, you could open a clinic.”
“Or,” she countered, standing and dusting off her hands, “I could not have to deal with reckless shifters who think they’re indestructible.”
Beck stood as well, towering over her in that infuriating, commanding way he always did. “I’m not reckless. I’m resourceful.”
“Debatable.”