Page 183 of Marked By His Hunger
And then he moved.
Slow at first.
Deliberate.
Pressing into me inch by inch until I gasped at the sheer stretch of him.
He filled me completely, more than I thought possible, his body forcing mine to open, to take him, to accept him.
The runes.
I felt them.
Those ridged markings dragged along that hidden place inside me, sending shocks of pleasure through my entire body.
“Serena,” he groaned, pressing fully into me, holding there like he needed the moment as much as I did.
This wasn’t just sex.
It wasn’t even just connection.
It was something bigger.
Something consuming.
Something that felt like it was rewriting me from the inside out.
“You feel so good.”
“Am I hurting you? You’re so tight, Unnasta,” he growled.
“No, it’s okay. The burn of you stretching me feels so good. So right,” I whispered, reverent, overwhelmed.
“You honor me, mate. Fuck, you’re body feels amazing. Like you were made for me,” he moaned.
I arched my back, opening my legs wider, welcoming him into me with everything I had.
Because this was right.
It couldn’t be anything but.
Wonder.
Pleasure.
Rightness.
All of those were his emotions, his feelings.
And I felt each of them.
But beneath it all—hunger.
Possession.
Mine.
The thought pulsed through me as strongly as it did through him.
