When He's an Alpha (The Olympus Pride 2)

He snapped his hand around her throat and wedged the head of his cock in her pussy. “I’m going to claim you now. I’m going to make you mine and only mine. You want that, don’t you? Hmm? You want me to claim you. Say it.”

“You want me to claim you,” she parroted.

He bit her jaw for being a smartass. “Last chance, baby. Tell me you want me to claim you or get ready for me to play with this body a while longer—just note that I won’t stop playing until you beg me to take you. You know I mean every word.”

Havana froze because, yeah, she did know that. Just as she knew that he really could reduce her to begging if he put his mind to it. He never had in the past, because he knew it would take a bite out of her pride, and Tate didn’t get off on that. But he was ruthless enough to do it now if she didn’t finally surrender control.

His brow hiked up. “Well?”

Havana let her muscles relax. “I want you to claim me.” She’d barely gotten out the last word when he slammed home with a growl, making her breath catch in her throat. The feel of his fat, long shaft throbbing inside her, stretching her inner muscles, was exactly what she needed.

Tate briefly closed his eyes, taking a moment to quite simply bask in the fact that he was balls-deep inside his mate. He flexed his hips, sliding his cock even deeper inside all that tight, wet heat. She gasped, tightening her legs around him and digging her fingertips into his back. The prick of her claws made his cock pulse.

Releasing her throat, Tate gave her all of his weight, knowing she could take it. He threaded his fingers through hers and pinned her hands to the bed. He wanted her to feel surrounded by him. Wanted her to feel trapped and helpless beneath him, because a part of her got off on it—something he doubted she’d ever admit out loud.

Tate brushed his lips over hers. “Being in you brings me peace, you know.” He very slowly pulled back until only the head of his dick was inside her. “It also makes me want to fuck you so raw you never forget who you belong to.” He rammed his cock deep. “That would be me.”

Havana clung to his shoulders as he fucked her into the mattress. It wasn’t just rough. It was so brutal and wild it was almost callous, much like the cold expression he wore. But there was no cruelty in the eyes that watched her—they were alive with hunger, possession, and raw adoration. She could feel those emotions humming along their bond.

She could also feel the friction building inside him, and she knew his orgasm was close. Hell, so was hers. The mating urge was riding them both, giving them no reprieve from the drive to take and fuck and come and claim. She knew it wouldn’t ease off until they’d done exactly that.

Havana arched into every savage surge of his hips, moaning each time his cock slammed so damn deep. He was strength and power and danger. Which made him a living, breathing aphrodisiac for her devil.

Havana’s lips parted as he shifted his angle just a little, finding that delightful sweet spot inside her. Then he was hammering into her once more, and the tension inside her built and built, winding her super tight. “I’m close,” she warned him.

“I know,” said Tate, feeling her pussy heat and tighten. His own release was creeping up on him fast, but he didn’t want to come until after she’d claimed him. “Bite me, baby.”

“You first.”

He pressed her hands harder into the mattress. “Do it or I slow down.”

Her nostrils flared. “You are such a goddamn—”

“Do it.” Tate groaned as her teeth sank deep into his throat. He swore, fucking her so hard and fast the headboard slammed against the wall over and over. She sucked and licked the bite before finally releasing him. “My turn,” said Tate. He bit her neck hard, tasting blood.

Her orgasm ricocheted up their bond and shot straight to his cock. Like that, his own release violently tore through him—the pleasure so intense it almost hurt. He exploded inside his mate with a snarl of her name.

Tate managed to catch his weight on his forearms, not wanting to crush her. His lungs burning for air, he carefully rolled them onto their sides and held her trembling body close. As he lay there trying to catch his breath, he marveled over the bond connecting them.

Although a couple might feel the tug of the true-mate bond, its development was usually a gradual thing. It often took certain emotional steps for said bond to fully snap into place. But his connection with Havana hummed between them—strong, vibrant, and true. Even their scents had mixed, declaring to the world that they were mated.