Chapter 7: Crown and claim
1181 Words
Emma’s POV
The Nightforge compound is insane!
Marble floors that stretch forever, servants who bow at me and attend to my every need, a bedroom bigger than my old apartment and a closet already stuffed with clothes picked out for me (silk, lace, everything chosen to make Richard rip it off the second he sees me in it).
I should feel guilty for how fast I’ve fallen into the princess treatment, but every time I try, he’s there, hands on my hips, mouth on my throat, knotting me until I forget my own name.
I’ve been f****d in every room of this house; against windows, on the grand staircase, once bent over the dining table while the staff pretended not to hear me screaming.
This morning is no different.
I slip into Richard’s office wearing nothing but one of his white dress shirts, unbuttoned to my navel, thighs still sticky from the two rounds we had before breakfast. I met an unexpected surprise upon entering.
Brittany was standing in there, muttering something at the top of her voice, and behind her, was an older woman. I’d heard when Brittany had referred to her as “mother.” The second Richard sees me, his eyes flare gold.
“Out!” He barks at the two women.
“Daddy, please, I feel we need to discuss more—”
“Get. Out.” Richard’s voice was pure Alpha command, the kind that made the air feel heavy. “I told you both you’re not welcome here, especially you, Eleanor.”
That was the older woman’s name. I wonder what they said to him that made him so mad. I would ask him later.
Eleanor began whining about family and Christmas and second chances. Brittany’s eyes locked on me—on the shirt barely covering my ass, the fresh bite marks peeking above the collar—and her face twists with disgust.
Richard rounded the desk in three strides, placing himself between them and me like a wall of muscle and fury.
“I said out. Now.”
They leave, Brittany shooting me a look that could kill, Eleanor crying prettily. The door slams.
Silence.
Then Richard turns, backs me against the desk, and cages me in with his arms.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he growls, but his hands are already sliding under the shirt, cupping my bare ass, lifting me onto the polished oak.
“Don’t be,” I breathe, spreading my thighs so he can step between them. “Just f**k me so hard I forget they exist.”
He groans like I’ve wounded him, mouth crashing into mine. The shirt tears open—buttons ping across the floor. He shoves my legs wider, two fingers plunging straight into my soaked p***y, curling hard.
“Already dripping,” he snarls against my throat. “You walk in here wet for me, little mate?”
“Always,” I gasp, fumbling with his belt. “Need you inside me. Now.”
He doesn’t make me wait. One thrust and he’s buried to the hilt, stretching me open, filling me so perfectly I cry out. The desk creaks under us as he sets a brutal pace—hips snapping, balls slapping my ass, my t**s bouncing with every stroke.
“Mine,” he snarls, teeth grazing the mating mark. “This cunt, these screams, this body—mine.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper. “Harder, Alpha. Make me forget everything but you.”
He does. Pounds me until the desk is sliding across the floor, until I’m coming with his name on my tongue, p***y clenching around him like a vice. His knot swells fast, locking us together, and he roars as he spills inside me, claiming me all over again.
When it’s over, he stays buried deep, forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard. I thought Richard was spent but I didn’t know we were just getting started.
The knot finally eases. He pulled out slow, watching his c*m drip from my swollen p***y onto the desk in thick, pearly ropes. The sight made him growl.
“Bedroom. Now.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, he scooped me up like I weigh nothing, shirt hanging in tatters, and carries me down the hall. Servants scatter. I don’t care. My legs are already wrapped around his waist, clit grinding against the ridge of his still-hard c**k through his trousers.
He kicked the bedroom door shut and threw me onto the bed. I bounce once, breasts spilling free. He strips fast—shirt gone, belt clinking to the floor, trousers kicked aside. His c**k juts up, flushed dark, knot already threatening to swell again.
“On your knees,” he orders.
I scramble to obey, ass in the air, face pressed to the sheets. He doesn’t tease. One hand spreads my cheeks, the other guides his c**k to my entrance, and he **slams** home in a single brutal thrust. I scream into the mattress, the stretch burning sweet after the desk.
He sets a punishing rhythm—hips snapping, balls slapping my clit with every stroke, the wet sound of my soaked p***y taking all of him in the quiet room. His hand fists my hair, yanking my head back so he can bite down on the mating mark, teeth sinking in until I sob.
“Feel that?” He snarls, pounding deeper. “Feel how this cunt was made for me? Made to take my knot, made to drip my c*m for the rest of your f*****g life.”
“Yes—Alpha—please—”
He flipped me onto my back without pulling out, hooking my knees over his shoulders, folding me nearly in half. The angle is devastating; every thrust punches the air from my lungs, the head of his c**k kissing my cervix, dragging over that spot inside that makes me see stars.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I force my eyes open. His face is savage—jaw clenched, gold eyes glowing, sweat dripping down his chest. He’s gorgeous and terrifying and mine.
He slows just enough to grind deep, circling his hips so the swelling knot rubs my entrance, teasing, stretching. I whimper, clawing at his back.
“Beg.”
“Please, Richard—knot me—breed me—make me yours—”
He slams in one last time and the knot **catches**, inflating fast and thick, locking us together. I come instantly, p***y clamping down in violent pulses, squirting around the seal of his c**k. He roars, hips jerking helplessly as he unloads, pulse after pulse of hot c*m flooding my womb until I’m overflowing, until it’s leaking out around his knot and soaking the sheets beneath us.
He collapses over me, still locked inside, teeth grazing my throat.
“Again,” he growls against my skin, already rolling his hips, the knot tugging deliciously. “I’m nowhere near done ruining you today.”
- Writer
