Abandoned Luna: Claimed by Two

Damien's POV

For a long heartbeat, neither of us moved.

The scent of her blood, sharp, metallic, alive, hung in the air between us.

I hadn't meant to taste it, yet when that faint smear reached my tongue, something ancient and buried tore loose inside me.

Orion snarled, the sound rippling through my skull.

Claim her, he urged, voice rough with hunger. Our mate.

I fought him. Fought myself. But her scent coiled through my lungs like smoke, sweet and dangerous, impossible to ignore.

Every breath tasted of her. Every heartbeat pulled me closer.

She moved first.

Or maybe I did.

The space between us vanished, too fragile to survive the pull.

One heartbeat, and the air burned.

Control had always been the easiest thing I owned.

Until her mouth brushed mine, and everything I had built splintered like glass under pressure.

My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her gasp, the sound swallowed by my kiss.

Her pulse fluttered against my fingertips, fast and scared.

My hands moved roughly down her body, tearing the dress with impatient fingers.

The fabric gave way easily, falling in tatters around her trembling legs.

The cold air hit her exposed skin, raising goosebumps across her flesh.

I wanted to warm her with my tongue. I wanted to bite until she bled.

"Look at you," I said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Your body betrays you."

Her breath caught as my hand slid between her thighs, finding her wet and ready despite her defiance.

She was dripping for me like a bitch in heat, even as she pretended to hate it.

"I don't want this," she lied, her voice shaking.

"Another lie," I smirked. "Your mouth says no, but your cunt begs for attention. Soaking my fingers like a little slut in heat."

I lifted her suddenly, hands gripping her ass with bruising force.

Her back slammed against the wall, legs instinctively wrapping around my waist.

The head of my cock pressed against her entrance, teasing, just barely pushing in before pulling back.

She whimpered, trying to grind down onto me.

"Beg for it," I said, my voice flat. Cold.

"Fuck you."

I pulled back completely, letting her feel the emptiness. "Wrong answer."

In one swift motion, I claimed her, filling her completely.

"Fuck," she gasped, the word torn from her throat.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," I answered coldly, establishing a merciless rhythm that had her clinging to my shoulders.

My hand found her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her vision blur at the edges.

She clenched around me instinctively at the lack of air, and I groaned, the sound vibrating through my chest into hers.

"You're mine to punish," I growled, my free hand coming down hard on the soft flesh of her ass.

The sharp sting made her cry out, the sound echoing in the empty room.

She bit my shoulder in retaliation, tasting the salt of my skin.

My response was immediate-another harsh smack that made her arch toward me, her nails digging into my back.

"Do that again," I commanded, my voice thick with authority, "and I'll make sure you can't sit tomorrow."

Despite herself, I felt her inner walls clench around me at the threat.

I could smell her arousal spiking with each slap, feel the way her cunt gripped me tighter every time I left a mark.

Her body knew the truth.

"Such a contradiction," I murmured, carrying her away from the wall without breaking our connection.

With every step, my cock moved inside her, a devastating rhythm of shallow thrusts that kept her teetering on the edge. "Fighting me with words while your body surrenders so completely."

With purposeful strides, I carried her into the master suite, kicking the door shut behind us. The massive bed awaited, pristine white sheets soon to be ruined by our violent passion.

I threw her onto the mattress, the sudden loss of me inside her drawing a frustrated whimper from her lips.

Before she could recover, I was flipping her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up while pushing her head down into the pillows.

The position left her completely exposed, her ass in the air, her soaked cunt on full display for me.

"Look at this," I said, my fingers sliding through her wetness, gathering it on my thumb before pushing it inside her ass without warning.

She jerked forward, a shocked cry muffled by the pillows.

The tight heat of that hole made my cock twitch, desperate to be inside it too.

"So fucking wet for me. Your body knows exactly what it needs."

"This is how I deal with liars," I said, my palm striking her exposed ass once more, leaving a perfect red handprint on her pale skin.

The crack of skin on skin was obscenely loud in the quiet room.

Each time my hand came down, her body jerked forward, her breath hitching in her throat.

Her cunt pulsed with each strike, dripping onto her thighs, and I could smell her getting closer-that sweet, sharp scent of a female about to break.

"Count," I ordered, landing another blow.

Aria's POV

The word came out broken against the pillowcase. "One."

The next strike landed harder. Fire bloomed across my skin.

"Two." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not yet.

By five, my ass was burning. I could feel the outline of his hand printed on me like a brand. Like I belonged to him.

By eight, I couldn't help myself. Between strikes, I pressed back against him, chasing the contact even as it hurt. Even as it burned. I hated how much I wanted it.

By ten, I was trembling everywhere, caught on the edge of something so sharp and bright I couldn't breathe through it. Pleasure and pain had twisted together until I couldn't separate them anymore.

"Good girl."

His voice was soft, almost kind, but I knew better now. His hands-those same hands that had just been marking me-smoothed over my skin with a gentleness that made my head spin. His fingers traced the handprints he'd left, pressing just enough to make me hiss.

I couldn't think straight. The punishment and then this-the tenderness that felt almost like care-it left me disoriented, spinning in sensation I couldn't name. So when he pushed into me again, I cried out. The fullness was too much. Not enough.

He sank in slow. Deliberate. Letting me feel every inch stretching me open, making room for him where there was no more room to give.

"Look at me."

His fingers closed around my chin, forcing my head to turn. Our eyes met, and something electric crackled between us. Brief and sharp and impossible to ignore. I tried. So did he.

He broke it first. His hand found my breast, grip rough, fingers finding my nipple and pinching until pleasure splintered into pain and back again. My body clenched around him involuntarily.

"You like that."

Not a question. An observation. Like I was something to be studied.

"Fuck you." The words came out anyway, even as my body proved him right.

His laugh was cold. "You already are, little liar."

He moved faster then, one hand still working my breast while the other found me where we were joined. The pressure was exactly right. Exactly wrong. Exactly what I needed.

"Say your name."

His breath was hot against my ear, his voice a command I wanted to refuse. I pressed my lips together. Held out.

The slap landed sharp across my breast. I gasped-not from the pain itself, but from how it made me clench around him. How my body rewarded him for hurting me.

"Say. Your. Name." Each word drove deeper. Each thrust pushed me closer to something I didn't want to admit.

"Aria." The name fell out of me like surrender. Like truth. Both at once.

He pulled out abruptly, flipping me onto my back before I could catch my breath. Then he was inside me again, harder this time-force that drove the headboard against the wall in rhythm with each thrust. My legs hooked over his shoulders, the angle impossibly deep.

His pace matched our heartbeats. Fast and desperate. Each thrust hit somewhere inside me that made my vision blur at the edges.

His mouth found my breast. Teeth scraped across the sensitive peak, then bit down-hard enough to make me arch off the bed, hard enough to blur the line between pain and pleasure until I couldn't tell which was which anymore. Until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.

My release hit like a storm. Fierce and unstoppable, rolling through me until all I could do was breathe his name. And in that moment-in the heat of it, in the pulse of it-I felt something in him break too.

But it was what happened next that stole the breath from my lungs.

He collapsed against me, spent. And for just a moment-so brief I might have imagined it-his lips brushed against my shoulder blade.

Not a kiss, exactly. Something softer. Something that felt almost like it belonged to someone else.

Neither of us spoke.

The dark wrapped around us as our heartbeats slowly found the same rhythm. A rhythm that felt too much like trust. His breathing evened out against my skin, warm and steady. His fingers stayed at my waist, neither gripping nor letting go.

I stared at the ceiling and waited. Waited for him to pull away.

But he didn't move.

And I didn't push him away.

For one suspended moment, suspended between one breath and the next, neither of us pretended we felt nothing.

Then the night held us both, and I let it.