CHAPTER 39: [M] HEY BIG GUY

Chapter 39

(Lenora POV)

I feel claws dig into my thighs—sharp, possessive, claiming.

My head drops forward and my eyes roll back. It’s not pain. It’s pure, white-hot pleasure, spreading like wildfire under my skin. My knees are barely holding me upright, and my mouth is open, gasping for breath I can’t catch.

Then he pulls me up.

Not gently. Not carefully.

Like a beast reclaiming what’s his.

One powerful arm wraps around my waist, the other slides up—palm at my throat, claws pressing into the sensitive skin there. He yanks me flush against his chest. I feel every inch of him, hard and relentless, still driving up into me without pause.

My back arches, neck tilted as he holds me in that vicious grip, claws nicking skin—just enough to sting, just enough to mark.

I moan. Loud. Broken. My body has completely given up pretending to resist.

I want this.

I want him.

He growls, voice low and primal against my ear. "Mine."

A tremor rips through me. My stomach tightens. My vision swims.

"Yes," I gasp, unable to sound human. "Yours. I’m yours."

I don’t know who I’m speaking to anymore. Cameron or the wolf. It doesn’t matter. They’re one and the same now—and both need this.

The hand on my throat tightens. Not choking, not really. Just enough to make my breath catch, just enough to remind me how powerful he is—how close he is to the edge. How close we both are.

His pace turns brutal.

Each thrust pounds into me, rocking me forward in his hold, stars blooming behind my eyes with every impact. It’s all I can hear—skin against skin, my panting, his snarling breath in my ear, the soft grass muffling our movements, the distant echo of crickets and night wind and wolves howling far off in the woods.

It’s everything.

It’s too much.

And I love it.

This is what I wanted—what I needed.

A brutal claiming, straight to my bones.

Something that drowns out the ache, the doubts, the world.

Just him. Just this.

"Mine," he growls again, like he’s daring the stars to argue.

"Yes," I pant, pushing back into him. "Yours."

He snarls—truly snarls—and the sound vibrates through his chest and into my spine. The hand at my throat shifts just enough to tip my chin higher, exposing my neck further. His claws rake down my sternum now, one shallow streak at a time, leaving heated trails of sensation behind.

Then I feel it—teeth.

On the back of my neck.

Hovering.

A tremble races through me, instinctive and deep. I can’t tell if it’s fear or arousal or both. My body goes taut—then pliant.

I bare my throat without thinking.

I offer it.

Then he bites.

Hard. Deep.

Fangs pierce my skin, through muscle and nerve, right at the curve where neck meets shoulder.

My scream tears from my chest, half agony, half something higher.

The bond—whatever fraying threads had been left—snaps tight like a chain forged in fire. It pulses through me, through him, like a supernova bursting from beneath our skin.

I feel it locking in place.

His growl vibrates into my bones, his knot thick and unrelenting inside me, anchoring us, binding us, filling every inch.

And then—

My orgasm hits.

But this isn’t like before.

This is an out of body experience.

A total collapse.

My back arches, my vision explodes into stars, and every nerve in my body seems to scream as it shatters. The pleasure isn’t just in my body—it’s through me, beyond me, like something divine just passed through my skin and kissed my soul.

I sob. Loud. Uncontrolled. My thighs shake, my hands clutch at the blanket beneath me like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.

And then...

Silence.

My body falls limp against his, wrung out, drenched in sweat, empty and full all at once.

My limbs don’t respond. My thoughts barely function.

I think he’s still holding me—still inside me—but I can’t move.

This asshole is still moving.

The knot makes the movements smaller, tighter, but gods, it somehow makes them worse. More intense. More focused. It’s like every shallow push is made of fire, and all I can do is lean against him and take it with a sob.

My hips twitch, helpless.

My thighs try to close, but his hands hold them open, claws still dimpling my skin.

I’m wrecked and shaking, trembling with every aftershock.

"Mine."

His voice is guttural—more growl than word now—and it rumbles through me like a second orgasm waiting to pounce.

"Yes, alpha." I whisper.

The words fall from my mouth before I even think about them—instinctive.

And the moment they leave my lips, I feel it:

His entire body shudders.

His claws flex.

His thrust stutters.

Like that one word—alpha—struck something deep and sacred in him.

The rhythm falters. Then doubles down.

His mouth is at my shoulder again, breathing me in, mouthing over the mark he just left.

I whimper.

I don’t care how wrecked I am.

I want more.

He’s not Cameron anymore—not fully.

This is his wolf, wild and unleashed, finally allowed to have.

Let him take everything he needs, I can handle it.

He licks my neck—slow and deliberate—the stroke of a tongue that doesn’t feel fully human. It’s hot, rough, reverent.

Aiding the healing. Sealing the mark he left there like a promise no one else gets to touch.

Eventually, the pressure inside me fades. The knot relaxes, inch by inch, and then he lets go.

My body slumps forward onto the blanket with a gasp, all strength stolen and all bones turned to syrup.

The night air is cooler now, and the forest hushes like it knows something sacred just happened.

Then I feel it. A snort against my neck. Warm and wet.

Followed by a slow, wet sniff. Another one. Then another.

My eyes flutter open.

And I grin.

Because there, looming beside me, is a massive black wolf. Bigger than any natural wolf. His coat is sleek, shadows folded in fur, moonlight catching in the blue of his eyes.

"Hey, big guy," I murmur, voice hoarse and throat dry.