He didn’t move for a while.
Just lay there in the dirt, chest heaving, muscles twitching with aftershocks. His back was streaked with sweat and dust, marked by me—my teeth, my hands, my c**k. He hadn’t shifted since I’d finished inside him, and that said everything.
I was still buried deep, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders beneath me. I hadn’t pulled out. Didn’t want to. My knot hadn’t fully formed, but I’d sunk so deep, our bodies were still locked. Fused. And if I shifted a little, I could feel him twitch—just enough to know he was still with me.
“You gonna bite me again?” he rasped finally.
I leaned down, brushing my lips over the fresh mark on his shoulder. “Would you stop me if I did?”
His answer came in the form of a low grunt, followed by a slow push back of his hip
