Brimming with Shepherd heavy and thick inside her, the Alpha tasting every inch he could reach, Claire found herself mirroring his movement. She kissed his neck, bit his ear as he often had done to her, lapping at the shell. When her actions brought the man to slam his fist against the wall, it didn’t frighten her. Deep, under layers of complications, worry faded, because she felt safe. Fear disappeared, because she felt loved. And the link sang that so long as she remained in that room, so long as she was bound to the Alpha adoring her with his mouth and body, she could be both those things.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, the Omega climbing a thrusting mountain, until she claimed his lips again. He seemed almost surprised, the flash of silver between his lashes only thrilling to her. The rut turned far more aggressive, a part of Claire wondering if he even realized how desperately he moaned as he jerked against her body.

She could almost hear his thoughts: Take your victory...

That’s what this was. She’d made him vulnerable, she had the power, and that was why he had stared... gauging if she knew. It was rare for him to be the one to lose control, yet there he was, mumbling something against her skin, something soft and breathy, a sound very much like, “love me,” over and over.

And god help her, she wanted to.

Shepherd’s hips rocked, angled so he could hit that fleshy spot inside her, groaning when Claire keened appreciatively from his effort.

“Love me,” he said it again, demanding and loud, absolutely unashamed.

The sensitive flesh of her swelling breast was fondled, a nipple toyed with as he surged. He smelled so perfect, tasted even better, Claire’s tongue dancing with his, relishing Shepherd, mimicking the penetration of his cock. The feeling of him smiling against her mouth again was all it took in the end, a taste of his joy so much more exquisite than any sexual gratification. The swell of pleasure crested, broke through her as she held him tighter, Shepherd’s name passing from her lips.

The saturation of the groan he made once the rippling strangle on his cock began, it wrecked her. She shivered, feeling him grind deeply to knot. They were both panting when their mouths broke apart, each gazing at the other, expressions opposite of the distrust and suspicion from before.

Watching his kiss-swollen lips form his declaration, “I love you, little one,” was captivating.

Glancing from his mouth to his liquid silver eyes, Claire gave him the only olive branch she could. She took a deep breath, and claimed, “Your son is making me hungry.”