Chapter 27

My ass burns and flutters as I blink up at Seb in confusion, trying to steady my pounding heart and work out where I am.

The tiny room is green, the lighting pale blue. It smells of him—and me.

How did I get here?

Everything before a moment ago is hazy, like a dream. I’m relieved, though, that Seb is here; at least until he rises and strides across the mattress-like floor for the open doorway.

“Seb?”

A pitiful whimpering sound escapes me as I try to rise. I’m destroyed. No part of my body doesn’t throb or ache in one way or another. My arms shake as I push up to my knees, looking after him. I hear water running. I sway, dizzy and disorientated. “Seb?”

I think about getting up, following him. The sharpness of separation is acute and almost painful. I shuffle forward on my knees, only to collapse, catching myself as my palms hit the mattress.

“Seb!”

“I’m right here,” he says, emerging with a damp white cloth in his hand. “Stay there, Isla. Let me clean you up.”

I huff a breath—it’s not like I can move anyway.

My eyes follow him as he circles behind me and kneels. Now that he’s close again, all the anxiety recedes.

A hot, wet cloth skims up the inside of my thigh and carefully wipes over my pussy and all the way to my ass.

I sigh. God, that feels so good, easing some of the soreness. He is so gentle it makes me want to cry.

His touch doesn’t only offer comfort, though. I’m still aroused by him.

How can I still be aroused?

“Poor baby,” he says.

My mind is floating, trying to catch up with what has happened and what is happening now. Everything is all jumbled like I’ve been chased by something and never quite gotten away.

The cloth is tossed to the side of the strange room. It drops against the wall. I shudder when I see the thick blue phallus that it lands beside.

I’ve been using that. It’s the reason I’m so sore inside.

I shake my head slowly as memories start to flood back.

His lips are gentle as they kiss my hip, distracting me from my internal angst. They create a feather-soft trail that goes all the way up to the back of my neck.

I shudder again; but, this time, it’s with pleasure.

His broad palms follow his lips, skimming over my hips and waist before he cups my breasts from behind. He pulls me back until we are both kneeling with my back flush to his chest. His nose slides up the side of my throat as he grinds his hard cock against my ass. I reach my arms back, entwining my fingers in his hair.

He has just come on me, I’m sure of it.

Was I asleep?

They don’t seem to know boundaries nor appear to be troubled by ideas of consent. They take what they want—all of them.

“Where are they?” I mumble as Seb’s hands caress me, setting goosebumps in their wake.

He nips gently against my throat, and my pussy performs a slow, achy clench of interest, even though I feel hot and sore there.

“Close,” he says, nipping harder against my throat. “Watching.”

I pull in a sharp breath, and my eyes flutter open.

There is nobody else here. It’s an empty room.

“They can monitor the room,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. “For their eyes only. You don’t mind that, though, do you, Isla? You can be my good little omega slut for them, and only them.”

His words are crass. They should disgust me. But my answer is in the fierce, womb-deep contraction that pulses through me, and the way my fingers tighten on his hair, pulling him closer.

Why do I want him to bite me?

He squeezes my breasts roughly and pinches the nipples, tugging them.

It feels so good. I can never get enough of this. The fight in me has gone.

His right hand lowers over my belly, parting the slick lips of my pussy before he thrusts three thick fingers into my core.

I arch up, tears stinging my eyes. “Seb,” I gasp, my arms dropping as I grasp his wrist and try to pull him away.

“I know, princess,” he says. “You’re all sore inside. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

I can’t form the words to answer him as he saws his fingers in and out, making sticky wet sounds that make a mockery of my resistance.

He plucks my hands away, pins them to my belly, and continues his torment.

“I need to fuck you,” he growls next to my ear. “I need to get my cock inside you. I need to knot you. You’ve taken it before, haven’t you, Isla? That little toy doesn’t scratch the itch the way you need, does it?”

“No,” I say helplessly.

“You’re mine now. Mine to fuck. Mine to take whenever I want.”

Why do his words feel like something has changed? I was his: before, always, even when I didn’t realize it.

Only, something is different.

His fingers slide out, smearing my sticky slick all over the top of my thighs before he pushes forward slightly, and his cock slips under me from behind, to nestle between my thighs.

When I look down, I can see the thick head, all flushed red and angry-looking as he slowly rocks his hips.

“Such a greedy little omega,” he says.

With my wrists pinned, I can’t move. His other hand spreads the lips of my pussy open so that the head of his cock slides back and forth against my swollen clit.

It’s too sensitive. I can’t bear it, and yet I think I’d go feral if he tried to take his cock away.

Then he rolls his hips and pushes his fingers down, and when he thrusts forward, he nocks my pussy entrance and slides deep inside.

“Oh god!”

My pussy clamps down.

I’m so sore inside. It’s unbearable.

“Good girl.”

“Seb…”

Nonsense pours from my lips. I try to jerk away, but he is holding me fast.

He begins to move his hips, his cock sliding out only to surge in, forcing spent muscles to give in the face of his deep, rough thrusts that make our flesh slap together.

“That’s my good girl,” he says. “Look at you taking me. That feels better than the little toy, doesn’t it? That’s what you needed all along, isn’t it, Isla? A fat alpha dick ruining your cunt.”

He knows I’m gone for him as my stuttered sobs of protest turn to cries of pleasure.

“I need to fuck you rough,” he purrs beside my ear. Bending me over, he pushes my face into the mattress, takes hold of my hips, and begins to piston into me from behind. Hot, fast, pounding strokes that are like an explosion of pleasure streaking through my body. I’m a doll in his hands; one that he uses for his pleasure.

He reaches to paw my breast and pinches the nipple cruelly even as he keeps on fucking me from behind. His other arm circles my waist, pinning me still as he pounds into me.

The climax comes from out of left field. It slams into me. I tip my head back and squeal, and, still, he doesn’t stop fucking me, setting over-sensitized nerves quaking and fluttering.

I can’t come down.

I can’t stop coming.

“I’m going to knot you,” he growls. “I’m going to knot your cunt, and it’s going to feel so good, isn’t it?”

I feel his swelling straining with every slap in and out, and it becomes harder. He slows and grips me tighter with hefty, deliberate thrusts. I feel like he is breaking me on his cock, breaking me and remaking me into something just for him.

“You’re mine, Isla. Until death do us part. Do you understand that? Do you understand that there is no going back? No escaping me? No leaving me? I won’t allow it.”

A distant part of me wants to recoil at those words. Another newly awakened part doesn’t care about the binding that I feel tightening over me—it rejoices.

“Beg me,” he growls, as his movements slow still further. He is filling me. My pussy is clenched hard around his length, and the fat knot is nestled at my entrance, promising terrible pleasure. Ecstasy. Mine for the taking. Except I don’t think I can take it. I don’t think I can take what I’ve already got, what he’s already giving me.

I answer, anyway.

“Please, knot me. I need it, Seb.”

His answer is a growl. His hold turns bruising, and his swollen gland slips past my body’s resistance, to nestle perfectly inside. His teeth sink into my throat. The pain is excruciating, and it triggers a climax so fierce that dots sparkle before my eyes. He growls, his teeth worrying at my throat; I smell blood. Inside me, his cock flexes, pulses, and spews out hot cum.

His fingers find my clit, sliding back and forth over that sensitive bundle of nerves and coaxing me to monstrous pleasure.

My body convulses. Pleasure and pain. A kaleidoscope of colors.

Mine.

The word rattles around my head. I feel a different kind of pleasure. Possessive, dark, and supremely dominant. I’m drowning under the weight, feeling a heartbeat that’s not mine, strong, full of power, so much power. Behind it comes adoration, a spellbinding kind of love that brings tears to my eyes.

I sob.

His teeth ease from my throat. A gentle kiss is pressed against the column.

“I’ve got you, Isla. Always.”

“What have you done to me?” Tears stream down my cheeks even as my pussy quakes and flutters through pleasure. I feel like I’m spinning.

There is something inside me beyond his thick, pulsing length. Something proprietorial, an alien, invading my core. “Get out.”

“I can’t.” Words are growled against my ear. “Not now, not ever.”

Possession is for insentient things like clothes, data tablets… and black obsidian stones. Today, I understand myself to be a possession in a different, animal way.

He is inside me, inside my mind; he has stolen my soul.

Satisfaction smothers the rising panic.

Is it his satisfaction, or is it mine?

I can’t separate us when his thoughts are pummeling at me.

“Breathe, Isla,” he says, one hand cupping my throat. “Just breathe.”