Chapter 4
Stella
The man's mouth crushed against mine before I could finish speaking. His tongue forced past my lips, carrying the sharp taste of whiskey and something else—something wild and untamed that made my wolf whimper in confused recognition.
His hand fisted in my hair to angle my head exactly where he wanted it while his other hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.
I tried to push him away, but whatever Eleanor had put in that milk had turned my limbs to water. My hands slid uselessly against expensive cotton, achieving nothing except to earn a low growl of approval—a sound that vibrated from deep in his chest, more animal than human.
His weight settled over me like a mountain as he pressed me flat against the carpet.
His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, trailing burning kisses down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. When his teeth grazed the skin there—sharp canines that felt far too prominent—a bolt of sensation shot straight through my foggy consciousness.
"Stop," I managed to get out. "Please, you don't understand—"
But he wasn't listening.
His hand slid beneath the hem of my nightgown, calloused fingers blazing a trail up my bare thigh. When his fingers reached the edge of my underwear and brushed against the fabric there, I heard his sharp intake of breath.
Then he went completely still.
He buried his face in the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply, a sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest.
Confusion washed over me.
This was the first person who'd ever breathed in my scent without immediately covering their nose. At my parents' parties, whenever I walked past the guests, every single one would press a hand over their mouth and nose, then whisper to each other: "Is that the White family's defective daughter? God, what a revolting smell."
But this man showed no sign of disgust. Instead, his fingers slipped beneath the cotton barrier with renewed urgency.
"Already wet," he murmured against my throat. "Your body knows what it wants even if you won't admit it."
Shame flooded through me.
I wanted to explain, to make him understand that this wasn't me, but all that emerged was a broken sob as his fingers found my bare flesh.
The first touch made my back arch involuntarily.
His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring. When he found the small bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs and pressed down, I couldn't suppress the moan that tore from my throat.
"That's it," he said, and I could hear something predatory in his voice now, something that reminded me he was Alpha even if I couldn't smell him properly. "Stop fighting what we both know you want."
His fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles.
Pleasure built despite my resistance, coiling tighter in my lower belly. My hips moved of their own accord, seeking more friction even as tears burned behind my closed eyelids.
Through the haze of the drug, I could feel my Omega instincts stirring—recognizing something dominant in the man above me, something that felt far more powerful than Liam had ever been, wanting to submit even as my rational mind screamed in protest.
Why was this happening? I'd never felt this pull before, not even with Liam. What was it about this stranger that made my wolf respond so differently, so desperately?
"Please," I whispered. "I can't—"
"You can," he countered, and then one finger slid inside me.
The intrusion burned and stretched. He worked that single finger deeper, then added a second, the stretch bordering on painful. His thumb found that sensitive bundle of nerves again, circling with maddening precision while his fingers moved inside me.
"So tight," he murmured. "Relax."
The dual sensations were overwhelming my ability to form coherent thoughts. My hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into fabric.
The pressure built and built.
When his fingers curled inside me, finding some spot that made white light explode behind my eyelids, I broke with a cry that echoed off the walls.
The orgasm crashed over me in waves, wringing sounds from my throat I'd never made before.
My body clenched around his fingers as pleasure rolled through me with devastating force. Finally I collapsed back against the carpet, boneless and gasping.
Through the haze, I felt him withdraw his fingers.
I heard the rustle of fabric, felt him shift, and then his weight was pressing me into the carpet again as he settled between my spread thighs.
"No," I tried to say. "Wait—"
But he was already there, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
Then he pushed forward with one hard thrust that buried him to the hilt inside me.
The pain was immediate and shocking.
He was so much bigger than his fingers had been, stretching me past what I'd thought possible. A cry tore from my throat, somewhere between a sob and a scream.
"Fuck," he ground out, and I felt his body shudder above me. "You feel incredible."
He didn't give me time to adjust.
He pulled back almost completely before driving forward again, setting a punishing rhythm. The pain began to blur with something else—a fullness that bordered on overwhelming as my body slowly began to accept it.
My mind drifted.
I thought about Whitmore, about how I'd escaped from him. But what difference did it make? Here I was now, in another stranger's bed, beneath another man I didn't know. Even though I'd just escaped one fate, the one waiting for me seemed no different.
The man above me stopped moving.
His hand gripped my chin, forcing my head to turn toward him.
"What are you thinking about?" he demanded.
Before I could answer, his teeth sank into the curve of my neck—not the formal claiming bite at the junction of neck and shoulder, but a rough, possessive mark higher up, just below my jaw. Sharp pain bloomed where his canines broke skin, and I gasped. His mouth closed over the wound, tongue soothing even as his hips drove forward with brutal force.
"Pay attention," he growled against my bleeding skin.
My body began to move with his, hips rising to meet each thrust. The sting of the bite mixed with the stretch and burn of him inside me, creating a sensation I had no words for.
His pace increased, each thrust harder and deeper.
One of his hands found my breast, squeezing before his fingers closed around my nipple and twisted. The other hand gripped my hip, holding me in place as he pounded into me.
I could feel another orgasm building.
When his thumb found my clit again, I shattered for the second time.
This orgasm was harder than the first, wringing a scream from my throat.
I felt him follow me over the edge, his rhythm faltering as he drove deep one final time and held there. His cock pulsed inside me as he came, filling me with heat.
Finally, he pulled out slowly, and I felt his release begin to leak out of me.
I lay there on the carpet, too exhausted to do anything except breathe.
When I thought it was finally over.
But then I heard footsteps approaching. Before I could process what was happening, strong arms lifted me from the floor.
"Come on," he said, carrying me toward the bed.
The mattress gave beneath my back, but I barely had time to register the change before his weight settled over me again.
"I can't," I tried to protest.
He didn't answer me.
His hand slid between my thighs again.
When he pushed two fingers inside me, I couldn't suppress the pained cry. But he showed no sign of stopping—the man above me seemed to have finally found some kind of release in my body.
His fingers worked inside me with relentless precision.
My body responded even though my mind begged for mercy.
When I came this time, it was almost painful.
I heard myself sobbing, but still he didn't stop. His fingers kept moving until I was nothing but a gasping, shaking mess beneath him.
The night blurred after that.
He took me again and again, wringing orgasms from my protesting body with ruthless efficiency.
Sometimes he was almost gentle. Other times he was brutal.
At some point, I stopped fighting entirely.
My body became a thing separate from my consciousness, responding while my mind drifted somewhere far away.
Dawn was beginning to lighten the windows when he finally stopped.
I felt him pull out one last time, and then his weight disappeared from the bed.
When I finally managed to open my eyes, gray morning light painted the unfamiliar room.
