Chapter 22: The Claim

My teeth went through skin, and I tasted him.

Ronan made a raw sound, and his whole body arched under me.

I let go and looked at the mark, a half circle of red on his shoulder, welling slowly.

"That's mine," I said.

He stared at me.

I heard his thoughts come apart and come together again, all in one breath.

She bit me. She chose. She did it herself.

"Calla," he said, unsteady. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sitting on you with your cock inside me and your blood in my mouth."

"I've never been surer of anything."

He laughed, helpless, and then his face changed.

He lifted me off the chair, and he was still hard inside me when he stood.

He carried me across the study to the rug in front of the cold fireplace and laid me down on my back.

Then he stayed over me with his weight on his arms.

"Say it again," he said.

"Yes."

"Again."

"Yes, Ronan. Yes. Do it."

He kissed me, slow and deep, and began to move.

It was nothing like the chair.

There was no hurry in it now, and no fear.

He rocked into me, full and slow, with his eyes on mine, and every stroke dragged along the place I needed him most.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him in.

"Harder," I whispered.

"Not yet."

"Ronan."

"I want to feel you," he said against my throat. "I want all of it."

He slid a hand between us and found my clit with his thumb.

I cried out.

I was already so close that it frightened me.

His thoughts were pouring into mine, and they were all the same thing.

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