Her Broken Alpha - Isoellen Page 0,29

you,” she keened, fisting the bedding.

"What do you need, Naya?"

"Inside."

"What do you need?" he repeated.

"Hurts."

"Does it, treasure? Does it hurt?" His voice roughened as the monster gained control. He looked at his claws on her hips, the dimples they made in her skin, the marks they'd leave.

Seeing the contrast of his monster against her submissive, well-bred form made his head spin. He had to hold his hands just so or risk piercing her dewy, perfect hide.

He'd had regular male fingernails until after losing Alennie. One day he’d shed them, hand and foot, and these thicker black things had grown in their place—another gift of the monster.

"Need you. Need you. Need you!" she rambled. "Hurts. Make it stop. Please? Alpha, please."

Darre drew a claw down the crack of her ass and over the puckered flower of her anus to the wet, ripe slice of fruit that was her slit.

While there was no sensation for him, he couldn't take his eyes off the sight of his ugly, lethal talons scraping up and down, parting her folds.

"Settle, treasure. Settle. What do you need from me? I'm right here. The monster is right here."

"Inside."

"What inside? Where inside? Such a fine little breeder princess you are. Bet all the bucks were lining up at your door for the smell of you. Did they bring you flowers? Pretty baubles from the Un? Sweets in pretty packages? Did they dress up in shirts with buttons and douse themselves in cologne so you couldn't smell how much they wanted to fuck you on the floor in your father's house?

“Now here you are in the dirty monster's bed, and you don't have any polite words for me? You buck your hips and try to make me do what you want, but that isn't how this works. I don't have any nice pressed shirts, and no one has the time for flowers in my sector."

Frustrated that she couldn't get closer, couldn't make him penetrate her, she started crying just for need of his dick. How fun it was to play with her, to show her who he really was—that there was no escaping him, knowing she had chosen him.

He doubled over her back, reached under her, and fondled her tempting, dangling tits. He needed to get a mirror in here so he could watch her, see every part of her.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, baby. Not at all. Not even a little. You are amazing. So perfect. How could I be angry?"

"Why, then? Please. Hurts. Need you!”

The rusty sound in his chest was an evil chuckle. "Use. Your. Words. Tell me what you want, Naya. Where you want it. How you want it."

The words burst out of her, "Fuck my pussy hard, Monster. Please. Please. Fill me hard. Mate me. Fill me with your seed."

"Yes-s-s-s,” Darre hissed. He stood behind her, messed up her fine nest, and pulled bedding out from underneath her.

They would be in this position for a while.

Chapter Eight

Naya

The hungry twisting of her belly woke Naya. She hadn't eaten real food in weeks.

Love of good food was the one thing she shared with the women of her family, both eating it and preparing it. Right this minute, she imagined a plate of assorted butter pastries with crispy, flaky layers that melted in her mouth and centers of nuts and fruit jams. She'd have dark, aromatic tea to go with it, so well-steeped that her tongue curled with the bitterness ready to be tamed with cream and honey.

After she had her sweet, she'd have something healthy like the fruit and herb salad their cook made daily, or tissue-thin slices of cured beef arranged in perfect rolls and stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in a sweet cabbage leaf.

She was body-hurt hungry. She couldn't move to stretch out her kinks or find her many sore spots of scraped skin and hard-used muscle, because the alpha held her too tightly against him. He had one hand under her chin and cradling her neck, the other over her mound with fingers between her thighs, and his big thing inside her, working his hips in shallow, tight movements.

He wasn't making her beg or trying to make her come. Naya was thankful. Her guts hurt. She was bruised inside and out. She wanted to eat and wash, fix the nest again, and sleep for a year—in that order.

Her heat must have ended. As if a switch had been flipped, the demanding need no longer called to her quite as loudly. She no longer