Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 128: Seven Days A Week [M]

Damon couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed his manhood and guided it into Charlotte’s wet honey pot, which had been dripping a clear liquid.

As he slowly pushed in inch by inch, they both gasped. Charlotte felt full, and Damon growled because her tight hole wrapped around him as if she had been waiting for him.

"God, Charlotte ..." he growled, burying his face in her neck. "You feel too good."

She clung to him, her nails digging into his back, as he slid deeper inside. "More ... please ... all of it ..."

Damon pounded into her vigorously until the bed beneath them shook and creaked, the sound echoing throughout the room.

Charlotte wrapped her legs around his waist while he sucked and bit her neck, leaving red marks all over her body.

His pheromones filled the room, overwhelming her senses and making her body tremble with pleasure. The bedsheets were a mess, twisted and half-hanging off the bed from how tightly she gripped them and how often Damon changed their positions.

One moment she was beneath him, the next, she was on top, then, on her knees, clinging to the headboard while he moved behind her.

Charlotte leaned forward, her body arched perfectly as Damon entered her from behind, gripping her waist tightly. He leaned down and bit the back of her neck, right where he had once marked her.

That mark had tied them together, and now he was claiming it all over again.

They didn’t stop for just one night.

They spent seven days in that villa, barely leaving the bedroom.

Every room in the villa became a witness to their desire: the kitchen, the living room, and even the hallway. Food stayed cold and forgotten as Damon claimed her again and again, driven by the heat of his passion.

One afternoon, when Charlotte got up to reheat the food, Damon pulled her close from behind.

Before she could open the fridge, he was kissing her neck and whispering things that made her weak in the knees. She didn’t even make it to the microwave.

Charlotte gasped when Damon’s hands slid under her oversized shirt—probably his, though she couldn’t remember—and she couldn’t stop him.

"Damon," she whispered, half laughing and half melting into him. "I’m just trying to heat up the food ..."

"You’re more tempting than anything in that fridge," he murmured, kissing her over and over again.

Before she could protest, he lifted her onto the kitchen counter and slid back inside her. Charlotte clutched his shoulders and let out a breathless moan as he moved slowly at first, teasing her, and then picked up the pace.

The soft sounds of their breaths, skin against skin, and the creak of the kitchen counter filled their ears.

By the time they finally made it back to the bed, the sun had already set.

The room was thick with heat and pheromones. The sheets were twisted and the mattress was barely holding its shape after days of passion.

Damon collapsed beside her and pulled her close. Their skin was still sticky with sweat and arousal.

"Is it over?" Charlotte asked between ragged breaths. Her entire body ached, and her thighs were still sticky from how many times Damon had filled her until she couldn’t hold anything more.

Damon was just as wrecked as she was. His chest rose and fell quickly, and even he seemed surprised that his endless stamina had finally given out.

He lay on his back beside her, one arm lazily thrown over his eyes, the other still reaching out to touch her.

"For now," he murmured, his voice rough and deep. "I think I broke every bone in my body."

Charlotte let out a weak laugh. "You don’t have any bones in your dick, you know."

Damon turned to look at her, smiling. "That’s the only thing still standing tall after seven days. You should show some respect."

She burst into laughter, burying her face in his chest. "Oh, shut up."

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before she spoke again, her voice soft and slightly hesitant. "Don’t you think we should clean up a bit?"

"Sweetheart, do I look like I can move?" Damon groaned dramatically. "Even my little brother can’t stand up anymore. Let’s just take a bath tomorrow."

Charlotte snorted and lightly smacked his chest. "Don’t call it that. You make it sound like he’s some poor innocent victim."

"He is a victim," Damon replied dramatically, closing his eyes like he was mourning something serious. "I overworked him. He’s in critical condition."

"Shut up," she said, laughing as she rolled away from him, only to groan a second later. "Ugh. I think I’m the one in critical condition."

"Exactly," he mumbled. "So let’s just lie here and rot together a little longer."

Charlotte sighed deeply, staring up at the ceiling with a tired smile. "We really did wreck this entire villa."

Damon opened one eye. "It was worth it," he murmured with a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

Then, after a few seconds of silence, his expression softened. "Thank you."

Charlotte blinked at him. "For what?"

"For helping me get through this damn rut." He shifted onto his side, moving slowly so he could see her better. He reached out and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. "You know ..."

His voice trailed off for a second, unusually hesitant. "I really thought I’d go through this cycle alone for the rest of my life," he finally admitted.

"People kept telling me to give other women a chance," he continued, eyes locked on hers. "They said I didn’t need to wait for a fated mate. That I could still build a family, even if it wasn’t with you."

It was true. For an Alpha, not being able to mark their fated mate was considered a tragedy, but it didn’t mean life had to stop.

In the modern times, Alphas could still form other bonds. They could still choose someone else, mark someone else.

Which was why Charlotte had been genuinely surprised when she found out Damon had never bonded with anyone else.

"And ... what stopped you from doing it?" she asked softly, her voice laced with sadness. She tried to hide it behind a neutral expression, but Damon saw right through her.