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The first touch of his tongue is electric, a jolt of pleasure that makes me cry out. He teases me with slow, deliberate strokes, each one drawing me deeper into a world of sensation. I can feel my orgasm building, a slow coil of tension that threatens to overwhelm me.
Marcus seems to sense how close I am, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue working with a maddening precision that drives me wild. I'm panting now, my body writhing beneath his as I chase the elusive peak of pleasure.
And then, with a final flick of his tongue, I'm there. My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, powerful and all-consuming. I cry out his name, my body shuddering with the force of my release.
As the aftershocks subside, Marcus crawls back up my body, his eyes dark with desire. He kisses me deeply, the taste of my own arousal mingling with the taste of him.
"Mine," he growls possessively, and I can't find it in me to argue. In this moment, I belong to him, body and soul.
"Please, Marcus," I beg, my voice husky with need. "I need you."
With a groan, he finally gives us what we both crave. He enters me in one slow, deliberate thrust, the impressive size of his cock stretching me deliciously. I cry out at the exquisite sensation, my body eagerly accommodating his girth and length. The sheer magnitude of him, the unyielding hardness, sends a thrill of pleasure through my core.
We move together, our rhythm building from a slow burn to a desperate frenzy. Each stroke of his thick, rigid cock fans the flames of my desire, pushing me closer to the edge. I cling to him, my nails raking down his back as he drives into me again and again, filling me so completely it borders on ecstasy.
"Come for me, Zoe," Marcus commands, his voice rough with passion. His hand slips between us, finding the bundle of nerves at my center. At his touch, I shatter, my orgasm crashing over me in waves of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
Marcus follows me over the edge, his body tensing as he finds his release. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he rides out the aftershocks.
For a long moment, we lie there in silence, our bodies slick with sweat and intertwined in the tangled sheets. Then Marcus rolls onto his side, pulling me close.
As I drift to sleep, I hear him whisper, "You're mine, Zoe. And I'm yours."
Chapter 9
Marcus
I wake up in the morning, and for a moment, I'm disoriented, the weight in my arms unfamiliar. Then I remember—Zoe.
Her pale pink hair is tousled, splayed across the pillow like a halo. I resist the urge to brush a stray strand from her face, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber. Instead, I breathe in deeply, savoring her scent—something that makes my wolf rumble with contentment.
This feels right. More right than anything has in a long time. I've spent so long focused on duty—to the pack, to Liam—that I'd forgotten what it felt like to want something for myself. But Zoe... she makes me remember. Makes me yearn for more than just existing.
The thought of my brother sends a pang of guilt through me. Liam. How am I going to explain this to him? The conflict between my duty to my pack, my loyalty to my brother, and my growing feelings for Zoe has been tearing me apart. But in this moment, with Zoe in my arms, I can't bring myself to regret the choice I've made.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Zoe stirs, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looks confused, then a slow, sleepysmile spreads across her face. "Good morning," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.
"Morning," I reply, unable to keep the affection out of my voice. "Sleep well?"
She stretches languidly, reminding me of a contented cat. "Mmm, better than I have in years. You make a pretty good pillow, you know."
I chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. "Happy to be of service."
Zoe props herself up on an elbow, her hazel eyes searching my face. "No regrets?" she asks, a hint of vulnerability in her tone.
I reach up, cupping her cheek in my hand. "Not a single one," I say firmly. "You?"
She leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly. "None. This feels... right."
I'm about to pull her down for a kiss when a loud crash from downstairs shatters our peaceful bubble. Zoe jumps, her eyes wide with alarm. "What was that?"
I'm already sitting up, my body tense and alert. "Stay here," I growl, my protective instincts kicking into overdrive. But even as I say it, I catch a whiff of a familiar scent – alcohol and... Liam.
"Shit," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. This is exactly what I was afraid of.
"What is it?" Zoe asks, her hand on my arm. "Is everything okay?"
I turn to her, torn between the desire to shield her from what's coming and the knowledge that she deserves the truth. "It'sLiam," I say finally. "And from the smell of it, he's been drinking. A lot."
