She chose me.
And I’m not standing on the outside of that any longer.
I hold her close as she rests, her warmth seeping into me like a balm to my soul. But soon, Lani stirs, her movements restless and agitated. I see it in the subtle shifts of her body, in the way her breath quickens against my chest.
Her eyes flutter open, glazed with need and desire as she whispers my name, a plea hanging in the air between us. The urgency in her voice tugs at something deep within me, a primal instinct to protect and provide for her in this moment of vulnerability.
She doesn’t beat around the bush, her words coming out in a rush, demanding my knot and my bite. I know what she needs, what she craves, and I’m powerless to deny her.
I open my mouth, ready to offer, to soothe, to start slow and gentle the way I’ve always done — hands and mouth and tongue, the patience that comes from wanting to make someone come apart before I let myself have what I need. That’s the plan, and I expect her to fall into it, to surrender to the rhythm I know how to set. But Lani never follows choreography.
Instead, in a single, fluid motion, she rolls her body up and over, climbing me, not with hesitation but with absolute certainty. The heat of her thighs brackets my hips, her hands pressing into my chest with all the weight of her determination. She’s not waiting for me to take the lead, not this time. Her eyes are heavy and dark, fixed on me like she’s daring me to stop her, to question the way she wants this to go.
I barely manage a breath before she settles herself in my lap, the softness of her skin against mine almost shocking in its immediacy. She’s so warm. The scent of her—sharpened, poised at the edge of sweet and wild—hits me in a new wave, and I’m powerless to do anything except let her take whatever she wants.
She doesn’t fumble. She doesn’t pause. Her hands slide up my chest, tugging me closer, and then her mouth is on mine, open and hungry. There’s nothing coy in the way she kisses; it’s bold, direct, claiming. My hands instinctively move to her waist, steadying her, holding her as she grinds down against me, heat and friction melting my good intentions like wax near a flame.
It’s not just her body that’s insistent — it’s her will. She’s tired of being handled like glass, tired of being the thing everyone else is protecting. For the first time since her heat started, she’s not reacting; she’s acting, and I feel the shift in the air between us like a live wire.
She kisses me harder, like she’s trying to memorize my mouth, and when I part my lips for her, she takes the invitation for exactly what it is. Our teeth clash and I taste blood, but neither of us stops. Her hands find my hair, tugging at the roots, and I let her, let her claim every inch of me she can reach. My world narrows to the press of her body, the thrum of her need, the way she’s not letting me hide behind restraint or patience or habit.
I want to slow it down, to savour every heartbeat, but she won’t allow it. She’s made up her mind, and I’d be a fool to argue.
When she finally pulls back, her breath is ragged, her cheeks streaked with heat. She looks at me, really looks at me, and I see a challenge there, but also a plea:let me have this. Let me take you the way I want.
So I loosen my grip on her waist, give her the space to move as she wishes. She traces the line of my jaw, then leans in again, her lips brushing my ear as she whispers, “Let me do this, Koa.”
It’s not a question. It’s a promise.
I nod, swallowing hard, and she grins — feral, triumphant. I feel her hands wrap around my straining cock, her urgency absolute. She wants this to be hers, and I want her to have it.
She plays with me for a moment, until I’m squirming and trying not to embarrass myself in her hand, then she shifts her hips, lining herself up with a precision that’s almost cruel in its anticipation. There’s a single, breathless pause where our bodies hover, aligned but not joined, and I realise she’s waiting for me to look at her, to see her and acknowledge that she’s the one writing this new script.
When I do, she sinks down in one sure, slow motion, taking me inside her all at once. I gasp, half in shock, half in worship, as the heat of her closes around me. The connection is overwhelming, every nerve ending alive and begging for more,but I bite down on the urge to take over, to flip the script back to what I know.
She sets the pace, rocking her hips with a rhythm that’s hers alone. There’s nothing tentative in her movements; she knows exactly what she needs, and she’s going to get it. I let my hands drift to her back, stroking, soothing, but not guiding. She wants control, and I give it freely, watching her take pleasure from me and give it back in equal measure.
Her head tips back, exposing the long line of her throat, and I ache to sink my teeth into it, to mark her as mine. But I wait. This is her show, and I want her to tell me when she’s ready.
She rides me harder, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and I watch her, mesmerised. Every part of her — from the fierce grip of her hands to the flush spreading down her chest — is focused on this moment, on the need we’re both riding like a breaking wave.
When she finally meets my gaze again, her eyes are wild, desperate, shining with that same plea I saw before. “Now,” she says, voice breaking on the word. “Please, Koa. Knot me. Bite me. Make me yours.”
The world blurs at the edges. I let go, finally, finally, moving with her, matching her thrust for thrust. The friction is electric, the pressure building with every passing second until I can’t tell where I end and she begins. My knot swells, locking us together, and I feel her come undone around me, body clenching, nails digging into my shoulders.
The craving is too much. I can’t hold back a second longer. I lunge for her, my lips finding the delicate slope of her neck, and for a second I just breathe her in — skin flushed and slick, the scent of her heat sharp and impossibly good. Then my teeth break the surface, just barely, and she cries out, a sound that’s all need and surrender, the way her body arches into me making it clear she wants this as much as I do.
The taste of her floods my mouth, hot and a little wild. Her pulse stutters hard beneath my tongue, and she shakes in my arms, every muscle tightening. But I’m not the only one with their canines out and aching. Even as I clamp my mouth to her throat, her own teeth find my shoulder, and suddenly she’s biting me back, blunt and hard and desperate. The shock of it sends a new wave of heat through my whole body, and I can’t help the low, guttural sound that escapes me. The world narrows to the points of contact between us — her mouth on my skin, her core gripping me, our bodies locked, both of us starving and sated at once.
She shudders and cries out again, the next orgasm wrecking her so completely that I can feel it pulse through every cell. I hold her there, teeth gently bruising her until I feel the aftershocks ebb, and then I let up, licking the bite mark, soothing it with open-mouthed kisses. She relaxes into me, the fight gone out of her, but her hands are still in my hair, fists tight as if she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.
It’s not just lust anymore; it’s something hot and bright and dangerous burning under my skin. I want to keep her safe, to keep her wild, to keep her exactly like this — every wall dropped, every nerve ending exposed. I feel her heart stutter against my chest as she tries to catch her breath, and the sound of it, the fragility and fierceness tangled together, nearly undoes me.
But even as we come down, the claiming isn’t over. She covers my bite with her hand, fingers shaking, and leans in to press her lips to the spot. I can smell the blood, faint and coppery, and I know she can too. She kisses it like a bandage, like a promise, and then — because this is Lani — she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her smile wicked and shaky.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” she pants, voice shredded with exhaustion and satisfaction.
My hands roam her spine, coaxing her closer, and I bite my own lip, half-laughing. “Wasn’t sure you’d let me.”