The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate-Chapter 36: Marked Twice

Forty seconds. That’s how long it took the bath to turn from soothing to scorching.

Three days of noble restraint. Forty seconds to torch it.

After seventy-two hours of sitting next to her unconscious body, holding her hand while his wolf paced circles in his skull like a caged animal, Dex was done.

When her lips crashed into his, his restraint snapped and the hunger roared to life.

Her boldness surprised him, and he couldn’t help but grin.

Mating her, marking her... it should’ve sated him. Instead, it only sharpened his hunger. In fact, it made it worse.

He’d been told mating sated the urge. That was a bold lie.

Whoever wrote that Chapter of wolf biology should be tried for misinformation.

Aegon: Finally.

Dexmon: Shut up and go to sleep.

Aegon: Absolutely not.

Their kiss deepened. His tongue slid into her mouth and a pained noise escaped his throat at the sensation and taste of her.

He needed more.

He always needed more. That was the problem. That had been the problem since the moment he met her.

His kiss traveled down her neck, teeth grazing her mark before his lips found her ear. He pulled her back against his chest, and the bathwater shifted around them, still steaming.

His hands moved over her wet skin with deliberate possession. One splayed across her stomach, holding her in place. The other slid between her legs.

Aegon: I am going to give you privacy now.

Dexmon: First reasonable thing you’ve said in three days.

His fingers circled, pressed, never letting up, reading every shift of her body and adjusting before she could catch her breath.

Her hips shifted, but his arm locked tighter around her waist, pinning her against him.

She squirmed. He liked that she squirmed. That was a thing he now knew about himself.

"Give it to me." His breath was hot against her neck. "I need it."

The word ’need’ didn’t cover it. There wasn’t a word in the Common tongue or Draken-Vorah that covered it.

Water sloshed around them as she writhed, but he followed every movement, fingers never breaking their pattern.

She tried to push his hand away once. He let her try. Then his arm tightened and he resumed like it never happened. She made a noise that told him she didn’t actually want him to stop.

"Dex..." Her voice trailed off and head fell back on his shoulder. Her body locked, back arching as pleasure tore through her so hard he felt it rip through their matebond like a shockwave.

"Fuck," he gritted out. His cock ached and the urge to bury himself inside her was overwhelming.

Aegon: Eloquent.

Dexmon: I will drown you in this bathtub.

He picked her up, turning her all the way around so she was straddling him.

His lips moved down her neck to her mark and he sucked it.

She inhaled sharply, the intensity bordering on painful pleasure.

Aegon: She liked that.

Dexmon: I KNOW she liked that. I can feel it.

He slid a finger inside of her and began to move it up and down hard and fast while his thumb rubbed her clit. She immediately stiffened, not having expected that, shocked by his boldness and the sensation.

When she did that, something primal took over him, and he smacked her ass.

She gasped, immediately tightening around his finger while her hips bucked forward. He kept his hand on her hip and pushed her forward and back on his finger again and again. To his satisfaction, her body started moving, riding his finger in rhythm on its own.

His boldness shocked her again. His dominance turned her on more than she realized it would.

He watched her move, her head tipped back, lips parted, and thought, very clearly: I am the luckiest bastard alive.

Aegon: I lied about giving you privacy. I just wanted to say, well done.

Dexmon: GET. OUT.

He refocused. Forcibly.

Then her scent hit him like a wall. Arousal so thick he could taste it, her body surrendering to him completely.

"Yes. Just like that," he groaned, his cock throbbing painfully.

He was talking to her, to himself, possibly to the gods. The line had blurred.

If this lasted much longer without relief, he was going to embarrass himself. More than he already had.

She shattered, her inner muscles seizing around him while she writhed. The sensation on his finger snapped his last thread of control.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He withdrew his hand and pressed himself against her entrance, pushing inside.

She winced, gripping his shoulders.

"You’re going to kill me," he groaned, barely halfway.

He tried to let her adjust.

That lasted for less than one second, before he drove the rest of the way in. Restraint be damned.

She tensed at the sting, sucking in a breath. Pain flared through their matebond.

"Hold on to me, baby," Dex said, using every ounce of control he possessed to go slow.

She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He tried. He lasted two thrusts. Then he failed.

His hands locked onto her hips and he moved her on him, driving up into her from underneath, and the noise that came out of his throat wasn’t human.

He spilled into her almost immediately, his cock pulsing, his vision whiting out.

He was the heir to one of the most powerful houses on the continent, and he had lasted approximately eight seconds. Aegon would never let him live this down.

"Dex..." she gasped. Her body relaxed around him just as her own release ripped through her, her muscles clenching in violent waves.

He kept moving into her, not slowing down, not able to.

"You’re mine." His hand came down on her ass again, harder this time, and she ground into him in response.

Then his mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking and biting, while his thumb worked her clit until she was shaking.

Her hips moved on their own. Riding him. Taking him. Her body answering every demand his made.

She was meeting him. Matching him. And that was doing something to him he was not equipped to process.

The stimulation pushed her somewhere beyond thought.

Her climax hit like a flood before either of them were ready for it, her entire body locking around him. He followed immediately, a raw sound tearing from his chest as he pumped more cum deep inside her.

"Don’t stop. Take every drop from me," he rasped, while she rode him on her own.

Time blurred. His body moved on pure instinct, claiming her again and again until thought dissolved into sensation.

At some point, the bathwater went cold. He registered this the way one might register a raindrop in a hurricane.

Most wolves managed two. Maybe three on a good night with a tailwind.

Reason had checked out somewhere around the fifth round. It left no note, done with him.

On the seventh time, a distant, still-functioning corner of his mind registered the number with stunned disbelief.

Aegon: Proud.

Seven. He’d officially lost his mind. His wolf didn’t care. His wolf wanted eight, preening with primal, feral satisfaction.

Was this heaven? How did he get this lucky?

Her climax started to rise again. His wolf surged.

No. Wolves don’t mark twice. It was unheard of. But the instinct clawed through him. His fangs found the mark on her neck before reason could intervene.

He bit down. Hard.

She moaned in ecstasy, her body spasming on top of him.

Dex groaned, not letting go. Her orgasm tore through their matebond and dragged him over the edge with her, his release so intense his vision went black at the edges.

He held her for two minutes while they both came.

Was it possible this was more pleasurable than the first time? He didn’t know. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.

When he finally let go, she fell forward onto him.

Dex pulled out of her carefully and she winced. Then her eyes fluttered closed. Too still.

Panic spiked through him. "Serena?"

Her mark pulsed with an eerie white light, and dread coiled in his gut.

What the fuck had he just done?