His Fated Mate Came Back While He Was Still Pressing Me Beneath Him

Ethan Blackwell kicked the bathroom door open, and steam rushed into the room. Before I could catch my breath, he had me pinned to the marble wall, one hand braced beside my head and the other gripping my waist. His mouth ground over my collarbone, rough and possessive, and his Alpha scent filled the room until it felt like the only thing I could breathe. Cold stone pressed against my back while his heat crowded me from the front, and the contrast scattered every clear thought I had. His fingers found the zipper at the back of my evening gown and yanked it down in one hard pull. I heard the fabric tear, sharp and unmistakable. The dress I had worn to the Pack Banquet slid to my ankles. Ethan lowered his head and caught my earlobe between his teeth, and the heat of his breath felt almost unbearable against my skin. I grabbed at the collar of his shirt because my legs were already beginning to fail me. Deep inside me, my wolf, Lyric, trembled like a a young animal that had been locked away for too long. His palm pressed to my waist and slid lower. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist on instinct. His kiss was rough and possessive. His teeth dragged over my lip with enough force to make me flinch, almost hard enough to break the skin. When I shuddered, he eased up for half a second, only to force his tongue between my teeth and steal the breath from my mouth with the same ruthless control. He held me locked against him. My legs were already too weak to stand, and his arm clamped around my waist like steel as he thrust into me hard enough to make me feel like he wanted to grind me into his body. Ethan's fingers were long, beautiful, and faintly callused. His nails scraped lightly over my skin, leaving faint red lines behind. The sting was sharp and slight, but it sent a strange, devastating tremor through me. He knew my body too well. My fingers clung to his back, my legs threatening to give out entirely. When he touched the place where I was most sensitive, I could not take it. I grabbed his hand and shook my head, but he only gave a low laugh and did not stop. I bit down hard on my lower lip, but I still couldn't hold back the soft, breathy moans slipping from my mouth. The sound seemed to drive him wild. His pace quickened, his thrusts deeper, until he let out a harsh sigh of utter satisfaction. Then his phone started vibrating on the vanity. He ignored it. His movements only grew more excited. The phone buzzed again, then a third time. I turned my head just enough to catch the name glowing across the screen, Connor Davila, his assistant. "Answer it," I said, pressing a hand against his chest. My voice came out hoarse enough that I barely recognized it. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared down at me. He delivered a few more punishing thrusts, let out a guttural groan, and finally reached out to snatch the phone. "What?" Connor's voice came through the speaker, each word sharp enough to cut. "The marking ceremony is ready. Your Luna has agreed. We're only waiting for your word." Ethan's hand stayed on my waist, his thumb tracing circles over my skin as if the call meant nothing at all. "The day after tomorrow." A short laugh came through the line. Connor lowered his voice, but not enough. "Are you sure? Aria still has no idea she was only ever the stand-in." Ethan dropped his gaze to me. I kept my face still, the way I had taught myself to do for the past five years. His fingers lifted the damp strands of hair stuck to my cheek and tucked them back with almost unbearable gentleness. Then he smiled, certain and untroubled, and said, "She does not need to know." Connor laughed again, low and ugly. Ethan leaned down and pressed a tender, almost loving kiss to my cheek. I lowered my eyes and let the faintest bitter smile touch my mouth. He still thought my hearing had not recovered. But I could hear everything, every word, every laugh. Each one sank into me like silver under the skin. Something in my chest gave way, quiet and final. I lowered my head and dug my nails into my palm until the sting turned sharp enough to steady me. The burn behind my eyes rose hot and sudden, but I forced it back before the tears could fall. Ethan came up behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist. He rested his chin on top of my head. His voice vibrated through his chest and into my back. Connor spoke again, this time with a note of hesitation, "And when your Luna comes back, what do you want done with Aria? Her hearing loss really was because..." Ethan interrupted him before he could finish. "That was what I owed her," he said, his voice low and flat. "She got five years. We're even now." Deep inside me, Lyric gave a small, wounded cry. I crushed the sound down before it could reach my throat. Ethan lowered his voice even more. "Do not let Aria find out. If she does, you answer to me." The call ended. He tossed the phone back onto the vanity and turned the shower on again. I stood motionless under the spray, watching him walk over to the mirror and calmly begin dressing, acting as if absolutely nothing had happened. Then his eyes found mine in the mirror. He turned, picked up his phone, and typed a message before holding the screen up for me to read. "Pack emergency. I have to go. Be good and wait for me." I nodded. He came over, pinched my chin lightly, and brushed his thumb over my lower lip. Then he turned and left the bathroom. I looked out at the moonlight. It was almost midnight. I sank to the floor, drew my knees to my chest, and buried my face against them. Then I bit down on my wrist, because it was the only way to keep myself from making a sound.