Page 50 of Beckett's Fate

“This conversation isn’t over,” Irene murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desire.

“Not by a long shot,” Beck replied, his lips quirking into a wolfish grin as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bed—their bed now, she supposed.

He stripped her of her clothes and laid her down, when Irene reached for him to do the same, he wouldn’t let her. He removed his clothes and then joined her on the bed, covering her body with his own. With both of her wrists in one of his huge hands, he pulled her arms over her head and held them tight. Her body was stretched out, naked and glistening with sweat and slick. Beck took advantage of her immobility to press his nose into the crook of her neck to inhale and gently kiss the claiming bite on her throat. After he filled his lungs with her scent, he growled softly, then marked her again with wet, open-mouthed kisses across her skin, drowning her in his own scent.

"Beck, please..."

Her labia were swollen and wet almost to the point of being painful, and Irene was too far gone to care about dignity or what would happen next. All she knew was that she needed this man, this wolf, his knot, and she needed them more than she had ever needed anything. Her last coherent thought was that she wouldbeg for his knot if he wanted her to. She knew at this point she’d beg for anything and everything if that’s what it meant to be his.

"Don't worry, Irene. Everything I have—everything you need—is yours."

As he said it, he demonstrated by dragging the length of his cock down her crease. Still pinning her to the bed with one hand, he made a space between her thighs for himself, guiding his cock with the hand not holding her immobile. The hot, velvet skin of his crown teased her lips, making her cry out in frustration when he didn't just press or thrust in. Her body was on fire, and he was the only thing that could quench her need. Instead, he used himself to smear her slick over more of her skin, his chest rumbling with a pleased purr at the sight.

Irene bucked her hips up, begging for something more...anything more. But he held her still. He was immovable, and there was nothing she could do about it other than to lie there and take this exquisite torture he gave her. She tried to soothe herself with how he surrounded her: his scent, his touch, his body, all of it caging her in and holding her tight.

When he finally thrust inside her, all Irene could do was whimper. He was thick and long, but her body opened up to him greedily. She needed to be filled. Her inner muscles clenched around his shaft, attempting to pull him deeper, clutching at a knot she could feel just beyond her entrance.

As he began to stroke, Irene finally felt whole. There was no time to adjust as he began to thrust harder and faster, but she didn’t care. She needed it… him. The knot continued to swell, and she could feel it bumping against her entrance. With a brutal thrust, Beck buried his knot inside her. Irene cried out as excruciating and exhilarating pain flashed through her—but only for a moment as feelings of completion and need fulfilled washed over her. Everything around her faded into nothing asher body seemed to dissolve into a wave of heat and pleasure. She let herself go lax, safe in his hands.

Her eyes closed, and nothing existed outside of the jolt of her body every time he snapped his hips against her.

"Please, Beck…” She didn’t even know what it was she was pleading for.

He hissed in her ear, and his cock swelled inside her at the words—he was getting close.

"Anything you want, my mate."

His thrusts became faster and more jarring, his knot tugging at her entrance until it finally caught. Her body tensed, bearing down around him and holding him tight as he pulsed inside her. The splash of hot seed filled her exactly the way she wanted it to, setting off a chain reaction of pleasure andrightnessthrough every inch of her soul.

Irene didn't know how long they lay there, tied together. Her body continued to work on instinct, milking his knot for every drop of cum that she could drain from him. She took infinite pleasure in the soft groans that she was pulling from him, as well, while he continued to trace the curve of her neck with his tongue.

“I love you, Irene. We were destined to be together,” he said as he rolled from her body several hours later.

“I never believed in the whole fated mate thing, and if it did exist, I thought it was for others, but never for me. Guess I was wrong about that. I love you, too, Beck,”

The sound of footsteps outside the door broke the spell, and Beck’s expression darkened. He threw back the covers of the bed and pulled on his jeans, his protective instincts snapping into place.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice low and serious.

Irene frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing good,” Beck muttered, his eyes narrowing as the footsteps grew louder.

He moved toward the door, his body tense and ready. Irene’s heart pounded as she watched him go, the sense of danger settling over her like a shroud.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as Irene grabbed Beck’s shirt and left their bed. It was too lonely without him. She wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been gone, but she’d begun to crave his presence. The fire’s warm glow cast flickering shadows all over the walls. Irene crossed to the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out at the darkened landscape that lay beyond the main grounds of the estate. The tension in her shoulders refused to ease, her mind spinning with the events that had led her to this time… to this place… to this man.

She heard the door open and close behind her. Knowing she was safe, she saw no reason to glance back over her shoulder. She could feel his presence; it was impossible to ignore. He’d been watching her in silence since he’d reentered the room, his calm, commanding energy filling the space between them.

“You’re mine now,” Beck said finally, his deep voice breaking the quiet.

Irene turned slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Possessive bastard, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “I would have thought you’d have figured that out by now,” he said, stepping closer. The firelight danced in his eyes, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. “You’re my mate, Irene. And you’ll remain here—with me.”

Her pulse quickened, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous coursing through her veins. “And if I refuse?” she challenged, tilting her chin up.

Beck’s lips curved into a slow, wolfish grin, the intensity of his gaze pinning her in place. “You know the answer to that.”