Page 11 of Awakening the Beast
“You bastard, shut the fuck up and ruin me.”
He growls in response, immediately crashing his lips against mine, his pierced tongue pushing into my mouth with force. I take it all in, feeling it slide down my throat, hot and possessive. As he speeds up, finger banging me harder, my legs spread wider, instinctively making more room for him to delve even deeper.I know I’m close already. Six months without himtouching me, without even touching myself—my body has only ever craved this man and now that he’s here, back where he belongs, I’m ready to let him break me down, tear me the fuck apart, and own me again.
Our kiss turns frantic, raw, with tongues and teeth clashing in a desperate need to consume each other. I can barely think as I fumbling with his belt, hungry to feel him inside me. When I manage to get it loose, I drag his zipper down, my fingers shaking with need as I slip my hand into his tight boxers and grip his thick, hard shaft. I pull his big cock free, feeling the heat and weight of him in my palm.
He keeps working me over with his fingers, coiling and curling them perfectly inside me, pressing on that spot that drives me wild. It’s like he knows every inch of my body better than I do, following a path only he can navigate. The bliss builds fast, too fast, and I can barely keep up with the pleasure he’s dragging out of me.
As I jerk him off harder, his pre-cum slick against my skin, the orgasm suddenly hits me—an overwhelming wave that has me gasping and screaming out as my pussy clenches around his fingers, pulsing with release.Arlo keeps up his rough, relentless pace, driving me higher as the euphoria tears through me. My nails sink into his shoulder, gripping tightly as desire overwhelms every sense. Even when my hand falters on his dick, he grabs it, forcing me to keep stroking him until I feel the hot rush of his cum shoot across my pussy.
His forehead rests against my chest as we both gasp for air, trying to recover from the intensity of what just happened. I can’t stop the small, involuntary movements of my hips as they twitch against his hand, still craving that last bit of release. His fingers slow down, dragging out every last tremor until I’m finished, the pleasure ebbing away but leaving behind a deep satisfaction.
He pulls his soaked fingers free before giving my pussy a teasing slap causing me to jolt. I pant heavily, my heart still racing, and as he lifts his head, he locks his eyes onto mine. There’s a wildness there, but also something deeper, something that lingers in the air between us as we both come down from the high. Arlo’s lips hover just above mine as I guide the tip of his pierced cock to my dripping entrance.
I murmur against his lips, desperate and needy, “I want you to fuck me hard, just like you used to. Don’t hold back. Fucking destroy me. Make me feel ashamed of how well I took it.”
But just as he’s about to press into me, a sudden rush of warmth escapes me, and we both freeze. My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open in shock as we both quickly glance down between my legs, where a gush of water pools beneath me.
Before either of us can react, a searing pain grips my belly. My head snaps back, and I clutch my bump, groaning loudly as the pain intensifies.
“Please tell me that was some kind of delayed squirt. Wait, was that your fucking...” he trails off, and I release a tense breath, nodding despite the excruciating pain coursing through me.
“Yep,” I respond through gritted teeth.
Without hesitation, he takes off my heels and quickly drags my tights and panties down my legs, his movements swift yet careful. He lifts me effortlessly to sit me up in the seat and I groan from the discomfort. The seatbelt clicks into place as he secures it over me, and then he pauses, his face close to mine.
For a moment, we just stare at each other as his eyes scan my every feature, realizing that this is it—the moment that changes everything.Our daughter is coming.
Arlo leans in, his hand sliding to the side of my neck. He presses his lips to my forehead, warm and comforting against my sweaty skin, and my eyes close at the touch. He lingers before resting his brow against mine, “I'm sorry for everything, baby; I truly fucking am. We're going to get through this together as a family.”
My eyes brim with tears as they slowly flutter open. His words hit me hard, more than I expected, and I watch him pull away.
“Let’s get you to the hospital,” he says, and I can feel the shift in him—focused and protective.
As he jumps to the driver's seat, I grip the edge of the door, trying to stay composed despite the intense waves of pain crashing over me.
As I drive, Wren’s laboured breathing fills the backseat and I glance over my shoulder, trying to stay calm. “You good?” I ask.
She groans in response, clearly not in the mood for small talk. I focus on the road but reach back, running my palm up and down her calf in an attempt to comfort her. My touch feels fucking useless right now, and I know nothing I do can really ease what she’s going through, but I try anyway.
Suddenly, she grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly, her knuckles white. “How much further?” she manages through gritted teeth, her breath coming in short bursts.
“A couple of minutes at most.”
In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of her as she throws her head back against the seat, her face tight with pain, but she keeps a death grip on my hand the entire time until we’re finally at the hospital.
After checking in, we're led to a spacious private room. I keep a steady hold on Wren’s waist as I guide her toward the bed. She braces herself against it with both palms, her head dropping as she takes deep breaths. Nurses move around the room, preparing everything for the delivery, but I stay close to her, running my hand gently along the small of her back, trying to give her any small relief I can.
When the nurses ask her to undress, I step in and help her strip down, then lift her onto the bed. The whole time, I’m feeling completely fucking useless. It’s a shitty feeling—knowing that, as the dad, all I can do is watch while she’s the one going through agony. We men help create this painful situation, but it’s only the mom who bears the burden of it all. Which, in reality, is fucked.
Wren’s handling this a lot better than I expected. She’s in her zone, breathing steadily through the pain, her face focused and calm. It’s the exact opposite of how Bridge was when she was giving birth to Cree—she screamed the entire fucking place down throughout, like she was being torn apart.
But Wren? She’s a different fucking breed. She’s always been tough, and the fact that she’s tolerating the pain so well shouldn't surprise me at all. When I think about it, she's been through quite a lot of it in the past—mostly because of me. We’ve been through some seriously twisted shit together; I've pushed her body in ways that shouldn't be humanly possible, and she never broke. Not then, and not now.
She leans back against the pillow, her hair damp with sweat clinging to her forehead. I reach over, brushing it away with gentle fingers. I pull the sheet higher over her, tucking it beneath her arms, covering her bare tits, but when she looks up at me, something shifts. Her eyes lock onto mine, and for the first time since I’ve be reunited with her, I feel like we’re in this together. No walls, no bullshit—just us. Everything else can wait. This moment is what’s important. A memory that neither of us will ever erase from our souls.
I lean down and press my lips firmly against her forehead, hoping to break through her tough exterior and she responds as expected. Her hand flies to the back of my neck, fingers gripping tight, pulling me closer. I fucking knew it—knew she needed this as much as I did.
I grab her hand from my neck and press it to my lips, kissing her knuckles. Her eyes fill with unshed tears, glistening, but she squeezes them shut, sinking her head back into the pillow as a deep, guttural groan escapes her while her hand tightens around mine as another wave of pain crashes over her.
