Page 402 of Primal

“Fuck—yes,” I moan into the mattress. “It’s yours. I’m yours. Just—don’t stop.”

“I’ll never stop. I’ll carve it into you—every fucking inch. Brand you where no one else gets to touch. You’ll feel me in your bones.” He fists my hair and yanks. “Now show me how good my dirty little slut can take it.”

He slams into me. My head falls back on a broken moan.

“Touch yourself.”

I do, fingers finding my clit, rubbing fast.

“Gonna come inside you,” he growls. “In your ass. Watch my cum drip from this tight little hole—then lick you clean. You want that, little fox? Want to be so ruined you forget every name but mine?”

My moan’s ragged. Incoherent. But fuck, yes—

Yes to the way his hand slides down my throat. To how he claims every inch of me with teeth and tongue. To his voice and filthy promises. To his cock buried deep, stretching me open, owning me until I break. To the only thing that’s ever truly made me feel whole.

Until I finally feel—

Like his.

Like me again.

I slip over the edge—unraveling.

“Good girl,” he pants, kissing my spine. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

He holds me there—hands pinning my hips, teeth locked in my shoulder, his thrusts shallow.

“So full,” he rasps, pulsing deep inside me. “So perfect.”

I’m boneless. Burning. Brain fogged.

He pulls out slow. “Stay still.”

I don’t move. Can’t.

More hot spurts hit my lower back.

He drags a finger through the mess—tracing one letter at a time across my skin in uneven strokes.

M-I-N-E

He licks a stripe up my spine.

“I should tattoo it on you,” he murmurs. “So you never forget.”

The sting of his teeth dulls first. The stretch of him lingers longer. But the burn of his claim on my skin? That might never fade—

—and fuck if I want it to.

***

I’m sprawled on the mattress, hazy and drifting and warm in the places that matter.

Kade’s back, crouching beside me on the mattress. He’s thrown on his sweatpants—bare torso still gleaming with sweat and gloriously on display. A towel slung over his shoulder. Water bottle in one hand. The other filled with random snacks—chips, a banana, a melted protein bar. Double Stuf Oreos.

A faint laugh escapes me. “Did you rob a vending machine?”

“Pantry. Max’s stash too.” His gaze sweeps over me, stretched out and bare except for his shirt half-pulled over me. “Figured you’d need something.”