Chapter 97: Watching My Pride Pack Its Bags (18+)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘❦✾❦∘∙⊱⋅•-

Lorenzo stood up from his seat and walked towards me while taking off his black gloves and tossing them away to God knows where.

The mess of slickness and remnants across my stomach and inner thighs felt incredibly apparent under the dim light of the room, and Lorenzo hovering over me made it all the more impossible to ignore.

He gazed down at the evidence of what he had coaxed out of me using nothing more than his voice and calm instructions, his green eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction as he smiled at me.

The soft, filthy praise that followed weighed heavier on me than any blow he’d taken in the fight.

"Look at the mess you created... all because I told you to," he murmured, his tone low and warm.

There was an ownership in his voice that made my cheeks flush again. "Your cock is still twitching, your hole is shiny and dripping, and you did that just for me. Just for me..."

He reached down without rushing, taking my wrist gently and guiding my still slick fingers to his mouth.

The warmth of his tongue cleaning up the traces of my orgasm sent a shock through the already sensitive nerves from my earlier release under his watchful gaze.

Oh...holy shit! This man was insane!

I could only watch with my face burning as he savored me with deliberate care.

When he was done, he pressed a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist and then pinned that same wrist lightly to the mattress beside my head.

The simple act of restraint made my breath catch.

"From now on, love." he said, calm and assertive, "there are rules in this room. You don’t come without my permission. You don’t close your legs unless I say so. And when I give you an order, you respond with ’Yes, Alpha.’ Do you understand?"

My heart pounded against my ribs, almost loud enough for him to hear.

The instructions were straightforward, but the weight behind them felt heavier than any contract clause I had signed before the fight.

My pride tried to hold its ground, but the memory of how completely he had broken me left little room for defiance. I swallowed, my throat dry, and managed to force an answer out, tasting surrender.

I nodded, he raised an eyebrow, patient and firm. "Use your words, Alex."

Heat rushed to my face again.

"Yes, Alpha," I muttered, the title feeling foreign and far too intimate.

In the back of my mind, I was drafting a very colorful letter to my future self about my life choices, but for now, I was too focused on not squirming under the weight of his gaze.

"Good." That one word felt like both praise and ownership.

He released my wrist just long enough to grab the discarded bathrobe sash from the floor, the soft fabric slipping between his fingers as he returned to the bed.

"Hands above your head."

I hesitated for a moment wondering why the hell he wanted to tie my ass up, and he noticed. The look he gave me was enough to make me sigh in defeat and lift my arms without any more argument.

He tied my wrists loosely but securely to the headboard; I could feel the knot every time I tested it, but it didn’t dig into the bruises left from the fight.

I was stretched out and completely exposed, every part of me on display in the low light, and knowing I couldn’t pull away made my heart race for reasons I didn’t want to think too much about.

Lorenzo settled beside me, one knee on the mattress, leaning down until his breath grazed my neck.

"You were so strong earlier," he whispered, the words almost a caress against my skin. "Stronger than anyone thought you’d be. And now look at you... already learning how to open up for me."

His mouth found one nipple, sucking it slowly, the heat of his tongue making a helpless sound escape my throat.

My back arched instinctively, pulling at the sash binding my wrists, and the mix of restriction and pleasure sent sparks racing down my spine.

He took his time, teasing until both nipples were tight and aching, then moved lower, leaving a wet trail of kisses across the bruises on my ribs.

Each time I tried to twist away, his free hand pressed firmly against my hip, keeping me in place...it was then I understood why he tied me up, he knew I would try to struggle even if I didn’t even want to.

When his fingers finally slid between my thighs again, the slickness there made the first thrust effortless. One thick finger pushed inside, slow and steady, and the stretch-even after everything I had done to myself-made me gasp sharply.

"So tight," he murmured against my collarbone, almost approvingly. "Push back against my hand, tesoro mio. I want to feel how much you want this."

I stubbornly tried to stay still, but his slow finger made me move my hips, seeking more pressure that was both too much and not enough. Without warning, he added a second finger, scissoring them carefully; the stretch burned in the best and worst ways.

My bound hands flexed uselessly against the sash, and the helplessness only sharpened every sensation. "Ahh...f--fuck!"

"Don’t close your legs," he reminded me when my thighs tried to draw together around his wrist.

The sharp crack of his palm against the outside of one thigh made me jolt, heat blooming hot across skin already marked from the fight. He soothed the spot with a slow stroke, then delivered two more firm spanks to the curve of my ass when I squirmed again.

I gaped at him! Did...did he just spank me?!

"That’s for still trying to fight me even now. You already came once because I told you to. The next one isn’t yours. You won’t finish until I say you can."

The edge of denial felt almost worse than my earlier embarrassment. He worked me open with steady fingers, curling them just enough to brush that spot inside that made my vision blur, then slowing or stopping whenever my breathing grew too frantic.

Praise and filth mixed as he stretched me, three fingers pressing deep while his mouth left dark, sucking marks along my neck and the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

"You made me bleed in front of my men," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction against the inside of my knee. "And now look at you... dripping all over my hand, opening up like you were made for this. Keep your eyes on me while I stretch you... I want to see every expression."

I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though it made my stomach flip. The contrast between the leftover bruises from the fight and the fresh marks he was creating on my skin felt like a second claiming-temporary yet intentional.

Each time I tried to look away, he simply waited, calm and patient, until I looked back.

By the time he withdrew his fingers, I was trembling, so sensitive and aching that the emptiness felt almost worse than the stretch had been. Lorenzo shifted fully between my thighs, the broad head of his massive cock nudging against my slick, prepared entrance.

I looked down and my eyes widened at the size! Never in my god awful life, had I even seen another man’s dick before!

Why the hell was it so damn huge?!

The first controlled push stole my breath entirely.

The burn of the stretch was immediate and overwhelming, the fullness forcing a broken sound from my throat as he sank deeper in one steady, relentless thrust until our hips met.

He held still, fully seated, his green eyes locked onto mine, the quiet intensity of his gaze pinning me more than the sash around my wrists.

Every inch of him throbbed inside me, the pressure bordering on overwhelming, the ache from the fight blending with the new, deeper ache of being claimed so thoroughly.

"Oh...shit--Dra... Alpha! Wait...!" I gasped at the unfamiliar feeling.

"Feel that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with possession. "Every inch. You belong to me now, Alex. My omega, my husband...and I’m going to make sure you never forget it."

Those words settled around me like another restraint-heavy and inescapable-as my body clenched around him helplessly. In the back of my mind, the last remnants of my dignity were still packing up, but the rest of me could only lie there, bound and open and trembling, as the reality of his complete claiming sank in with every careful, deliberate inch of him.