The friction is pure madness.
“Mine,” I snarl against her ear.
My hands drop to her plush hips. My fingers dig deep into the soft curves. Dark, possessive marks bloom on her golden skin—lurid evidence of exactly who she belongs to. It’s a visible brand of my protection.
“No one is ever putting you in a cage again.” The promise drives home with every thrust.
She takes every stroke. Her hips rise off the fur rug to meet me. Her long legs wrap around my thighs. Her ankles lock together, trapping me deep inside her heat.
“Harder.” The begging is desperate. “Rafe, please. Harder.”
The demand shatters my remaining control.
I pound into her with reckless, animalistic aggression. My cock hits the deepest spot on her back wall over and over again.
The heavy scent of sweat, rose, and sex thickens the air. Amber firelight dances across our slick, tangled bodies.
The pressure builds to a breaking point. The base of my spine tingles. The ache in my balls demands release.
Her inner muscles clamp down around my shaft with crushing force.
“Rafe!” Her head throws back. Her spine arches off the rug.
Her climax triggers mine.
I grind deep against her soaking wet folds. I bury myself to the hilt.
A feral roar rips from my chest.
I release inside her. Thick, heavy pulses of heat pump deep. My body shudders with every explosive wave. I empty myself in her tight, claiming heat.
The climax wrecks me.
My muscles give out. I collapse onto her soft, plush curves. My face buries in the crook of her neck.
We pant against each other, ragged and wrecked. Our chests heave. The wild, frantic beating of our hearts synchronizes in the dark room.
I stay buried inside her.
Minutes pass in total, exhausted silence. The adrenaline crashes. Heavy peace takes its place.
I roll slowly onto my back. The physical seal breaks with a soft, wet sound.
I pull her thick, beautiful body on top of my chest. Her flushed cheek rests against my pectoral. Soft, bare skin burns hot against mine.
I reach down and grab the heavy wool blanket off the leather sofa. I drag it over our sweaty bodies, cocooning us against the freezing mountain air.
I stroke her messy dark hair in a slow, protective rhythm.
She belongs to me.
My territorial brain stops fighting the truth. The denial burns away in the ashes of the fireplace. The older brothers were right. The Thunderbolt hit hard, fast, and irreversibly. The desperate fight to remain unattached is over. The beast is claimed by the cartel princess sleeping on his chest.
A sharp burst of static slices through the quiet room.
The encrypted comms unit on my discarded tactical vest crackles from the floorboards.
“Surgeon to Beast.” Jude’s low, surgical voice cuts through the tiny speaker. “Approaching the North Cabin. Perimeter is clear. Tyra is asleep.”