Page 227 of Awakened

“Say it,” he orders. “Tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“More,” I moan, wishing I knew the right answer and praying that somehow he does.

“Good girl.”

Releasing my thigh, he wastes no time slipping one thick finger inside of me. The pressure is perfect, and I sigh in relief. My hips move restlessly until he curls his finger just right while his tongue continues his exquisite torment on my clit.

The pleasure grows and grows until I feel like I might burst. The fullness of him inside of me is exactly what I needed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs right before he flattens his tongue against my clit. I whine in ecstasy. My head falls back, and my hands fly to my hair and tug.

Fates, I’m so close. And it’s so strong. So much stronger than before.

I try to pull away instinctively, suddenly terrified the pleasure might actually kill me once it snaps, but Caelan refuses. His arm bands tighter against my hips and somehow—someway—he doubles his efforts.

“Don’t you dare fight it,” he demands. “Give it to me, Omega. Drown me in your slick.”

I do.

The pleasure that’s built and built and built finally snaps, bursting through my limbs and sending electric sparks through my nerve endings. My thighs tighten around Caelan’s head, and I don’t even realize I’m screaming, but gods, I am.

I can feel myself tightening rhythmically around his fingers, clenching and pulsing over and over.

When will it stop? Will it ever stop?

Caelan moans, long and low, but never stops his steady movements. Like he’s determined to pull every last ounce of pleasure he can out of me. His finger pushes harder against that part inside of me that makes me want to black out, and the movement of his tongue softens into something more languid.

I’m shaking, relishing in the feel of having something inside of me as I fall apart. Once the pleasure turns sharp, I pull away, every nerve in my body overstimulated.

With a chuckle, Caelan places both hands on my knees and gently pushes my legs apart.

I flush when I realize I’m probably suffocating him, but the smug grin on his face makes me think he wouldn’t actually care even if he had stopped breathing.

He uses his tongue to clean between my legs before sliding up my body, brushing his lips delicately against my own.

I can taste myself on him, our scents mixing into something heady and alive.

And infinitely possessive.

“How do you feel?” he asks, pressing his forehead to mine. I wrap my arms and legs around him in response, and he laughs, flipping us smoothly so that he’s on his back and I’m curled on top of him.

“So much better,” I murmur, then yawn. “Tired.”

Truthfully, I’m exhausted. Boneless. I feel like I completely unraveled and was put back together again.

He presses his lips to my temple and takes a deep inhale of my scent while he still can.

“Let’s give you your shot, then you can get some sleep. Sound okay?”

He waits for my nod, then reaches over and fumbles for the waiting syringe on the nightstand. He checks once again to make sure I’m ready before administering the shot, but even now I barely feel the sting of the needle as he injects half my normal dose into my arm.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Get some sleep, sweet girl.”

I don’t argue. I don’t think I could move right now if my life depended on it. I sink into my Mate’s arms, feeling euphoric and floaty and empty of every emotion except love and an overwhelming sense of safety.

With the ache in my body and mind blissfully silenced, I fall into sleep almost instantly.

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