Reclamation, page 21
"That's right, angel," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated within me. "You're mine. Every fucking inch of you is mine."
The tension within me built to a fever pitch, a coiled energy that threatened to consume me. I could feel the edge approaching, the promise of release hovering just out of reach.
"Walton," I breathed out, his name a plea and a promise. I needed him, all of him, in a way that went beyond the physical. I needed to feel him, to be claimed by him, to be his in every possible way.
He leaned down, his lips finding the tender spot on my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His fingers dug into my skin, gripping me with a ferocity that sent shivers down my spine. I knew I'd bruise, but I didn't care. The pain was a small price to pay for the pleasure that coursed through me, a testament to the passion that burned between us.
He responded with a growl, his grip on me tightening. His teeth sank into my flesh again, the sharp, sudden pain sending a jolt through me, but it was quickly followed by a wave of pleasure that had me moaning loud and long. The sound seemed to spur him on, his hips moving with renewed vigor, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.
"Fuck, sugar," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "So tight, so perfect."
His words were filthy and vile, but they sent sparks of lust and desire deep within me, igniting a fire that threatened to consume me whole. The tension within me built to a fever pitch, a coiled energy that threatened to consume me. I could feel the edge approaching, the promise of release hovering just out of reach.
And then, with one final, powerful thrust, he bit down on my neck again, and I came undone. The world shattered around me, a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations that left me breathless and shaking. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, each one more intense than the last, until I was drowning in a sea of ecstasy.
Walton groaned, his body tensing as he found his own release. He spilled into me, filling me with his heat, his essence, his very being. It was a primal, raw moment—a claiming that went beyond the physical, a bond that was forged in the fires of passion and need.
"That all right, darling?" he asked, his voice tight, almost raspy.
I looked up at him, his eyes closed, hands on my body liked they belonged there.
"I wasn't too rough?"
I shook my head. "Being with you," I murmured, closing my eyes as slumber tugged at me. "It's like… it's like touching God."
And before I could say anything else, I fell asleep again.
Chapter 24
Walton
My chest rose and fell like I’d just outrun the devil himself, but all I could feel was her. Everly, tucked against my side, her head resting on my shoulder like it was made just for her. Her skin was warm and flushed, her breath soft as it brushed my collarbone.
“I think…” she murmured, voice still sleepy-sweet and full of mischief, “I want to try being on top next time.”
I huffed out a breath that might’ve been a laugh—if I had any air left in me. My arm curled tighter around her, like I had to remind the world she was mine.
“Sugar,” I drawled, “if you were any more dangerous, I’d have to start wearin’ armor to bed.”
She snorted against my skin, and I felt the smile curve on her lips before I saw it.
“I’m serious,” she said.
“I can tell. You just declared war while usin’ my shoulder as a pillow.” I shifted just enough to glance down at her, brow raised. “Didn’t take you for a conqueror.”
She nudged me with her elbow, still grinning. “What, afraid I’ll break you?”
I chuckled low in my throat. “No, angel. I’m afraid I’ll let you.”
She pressed her lips to my shoulder, then traced a path along my neck. A warmth unfurled in my chest, radiating through me like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“Give a man some time to breathe,” I murmured, but I couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my lips. Damn if I didn’t like it.
Everly’s laughter was a soft, melodic sound that drifted into the air, filling the space between us with something sweet and tender.
“We should eat,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the way her fingers danced across my chest. “Sustenance.”
She nodded but moved slowly, crawling onto my lap instead of getting up. Her weight settled against me as she kissed down my chest, her warmth igniting every nerve ending.
I stirred despite the exhaustion clinging to me like an old friend. The ache in my muscles screamed for rest after everything we had been through, but Everly had this way of making me forget it all—even after what had just gone down in that damn forest.
I couldn’t understand it; it was like she bewitched me with every glance and touch, drawing me deeper into her world where pain and fear seemed to melt away. Her soft breath brushed against my skin as she leaned closer, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
“Walton,” she whispered against me, her voice low and intimate.
“Yeah?” I replied, keeping my tone gruff despite how her closeness rattled me.
“What if we stayed here? Just for a while?” She gazed up at me with those emerald eyes—bright and full of hope.
The thought danced through my mind like a flickering flame—what would it mean to simply exist without looking over our shoulders?
“Would this feel good for you?” she asked, adjusting herself now that my cock was hard again.
“Honey, you're a fucking sight,” I growled.
She lifted up her hips, and I held my cock as she slid down it. She moaned as I filled her, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
“How does it feel for you?” I growled, hands on her hips, eyes feasting on her full breasts, skin still marred from the marks I left her in the heat of our lovemaking.
"I always feel good when you're inside me," she said, her voice a soft whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "Wait, I have to… get used to you…"
Her words trailed off as she adjusted herself, her hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had me clenching my jaw to keep from losing control. I could feel every inch of her, every subtle shift and movement, and it was driving me wild.
My hands reached up to play with her breasts, cupping them gently before teasing her nipples with my thumbs. She gasped and smiled like the goddamn sun, arching her back to press herself further into my touch. The sight of her, flushed and breathless, was enough to make me forget everything else.
I sat up slightly, my mouth finding her nipple and sucking it between my teeth. She moaned, her hands gripping my shoulders as she rocked against me. My other hand continued to caress her, drawing out a gasp from deep within her chest.
"Walton," she breathed, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. "You feel so good…"
I couldn't help but smile against her skin, my tongue circling her nipple before moving to the other, giving it the same attention. Her body responded to every touch, every kiss, and I could feel her tightening around me, her breath coming in short, quick gasps.
"You're incredible," I murmured, my voice rough with desire. "So damn beautiful…"
She leaned down, her lips finding mine in a hungry, desperate kiss. Our tongues danced together, exploring and tasting, as our bodies moved in sync. The room filled with the sound of our breaths, our moans, and the soft whispers of our names.
I could feel her getting closer, her body trembling as she chased her release. I gripped her hips, guiding her movements, helping her find that perfect rhythm. She broke the kiss, her head falling back as she cried out, her body convulsing around me.
The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was enough to send me over the edge. I followed her, my own release crashing through me like a tidal wave. We clung to each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths ragged and uneven.
As the waves of pleasure subside, she collapsed against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest.
"I like that position too," she murmured, her voice soft and breathless.
"Mmhmm," I grunted, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
She let out a quiet laugh, her breath warm against my collarbone. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
We lay there in the stillness, limbs tangled and breath slowly evening out, the room hushed except for the soft rustle of fabric as we shifted closer. The kind of quiet that felt earned.
“I could stay like this forever,” she whispered after a while, fingers drawing lazy circles on my chest like she was etching the moment into memory.
“Forever’s a long time, angel,” I murmured, my voice rough with sleep and something deeper.
She looked up at me then, eyes soft but steady, lit with a kind of resolve I hadn’t earned but she gave freely. “I know. But with you, it still doesn’t feel long enough.”
The words hit like a blade turned gentle—cutting through the armor I’d worn for years, straight into something I hadn’t let myself feel. Want. Hope. The aching need to deserve someone like her. She didn’t just make me want to stay. She made me want to be the kind of man who could.
I kissed her long and deep, tasting the hush of morning on her lips—the kind of quiet that only shows itself in the fragile space before the world starts kicking again. She melted into it, her fingers curling soft and slow at the back of my neck, like maybe she felt it too. That ache to stay, just like this, for as long as the damned earth would allow.
When I finally pulled back, I didn’t go far. Just rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in like she was the first clean air I’d tasted after years of smoke. “We should get dressed,” I murmured against her mouth, voice rougher than I meant. “They’ll probably have breakfast waiting.”
She nodded, slow and dream-eyed, with that private smile she wore like armor and silk all at once. But neither of us moved. Couldn’t.
I watched her. Watched the way her lashes danced when she blinked, the heat still high in her cheeks, the way the sheet clung to her shoulder like it had a damn crush on her. And shit—it hit me again, full force. This was real. She was real. Mine.
She rubbed her nose against mine—barely a brush—and it damn near took the breath out of me more than any kiss ever could.
“Just another minute,” she whispered.
I huffed out a laugh, soft and tired, and pulled her closer. “One minute,” I said. “But if you keep lookin’ at me like that, we’re gonna miss that breakfast entirely.” My thumb found her cheek, brushed across it like it had a mind of its own. “And I don’t think I give a damn.”
She made this sound—half sigh, half laugh—that settled in my chest like a vow I didn’t remember making but already meant.
And for that minute, I didn’t care either.
She shifted to sit up, and the moment her feet hit the ground, she nearly crumpled.
I caught her waist fast, steadied her with one hand while the other pressed against the small of her back. She hissed through her teeth, and I couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at my mouth.
“Told you,” I said, voice low and dry. “But did you listen? Hell no. You wanted to try every goddamn position in the book.”
She gave me this little pout, lips pushed out like sin itself. “You didn’t complain.”
“Didn’t say I was complainin’,” I murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Just observin’.”
She rolled her eyes but leaned into me as I guided her to her clothes. I helped her step into her underthings—slow, careful, her hands light on my shoulders for balance. The way her skin brushed mine, warm and still flushed, made my blood stir all over again.
Funny, how getting her dressed could feel just as intimate as taking her apart.
I eased the fabric up her thighs, fingers grazing the curve of her hip like I had a right to memorize her all over again. She didn’t say a word—just watched me with that soft look that knocked the air from my lungs worse than any bullet I’d ever taken.
I pulled her shirt over her head, and she had to lift her arms slow, wincing just a little. My palms slid down her sides as I adjusted the hem, smoothing it like it mattered.
“Next time,” I muttered, brushing my thumb across her lower back, “we pace ourselves.”
She smiled at that—small, and private, like it was just for me. And maybe it was.
God help me, but I hoped it was.
“Okay,” she murmured, taking slow, careful steps like every muscle below the waist had a bone to pick with her. “We can—”
“Sugar,” I cut in, eyeing her with a grin I couldn’t help, “your hair.”
“What?” She froze, hand flying up to the wild mess of curls and strands around her face. “What’s wrong with it?”
I tilted my head, letting my eyes drag up and down with deliberate slowness. “Let’s just say you look like you got thoroughly ruined by a demon in the middle of a warzone.” I shrugged, voice dipping into that lazy drawl. “Which… you did.”
Her cheeks flared, lips parting like she might sass me, but I was already moving. I plucked the brush from her bag and held it up like a weapon.
“C’mere,” I said.
She hesitated.
“I ain’t askin’, angel.”
That did it. She padded over, still wincing just a little, and sat down in front of me on the edge of the bed. I knelt behind her, one knee pressed to the mattress, and gathered the tangled mess gently in my hands.
I started slow.
The brush moved through her hair with care I didn’t even know I had left in me. Not rough, not rushed. Each stroke felt like peeling something tight and old off my chest. Her hair was soft, smelled like ash and her skin and something faintly sweet beneath it all.
She sighed—low and quiet—and that sound hit me harder than it should’ve.
Like trust. Like peace.
Neither of which I deserved.
But I kept brushing, slower now, letting the silence wrap around us while her breath evened out and the storm inside me raged a little softer.
When I finished, I gave her hair one last stroke, like I didn’t want to stop, then set the brush aside.
She started to stand again, careful like a fawn still learning how its legs worked, and I rose with her, hands brushing down her arms to steady her. And then I saw it—just under the curve of her jaw, disappearing into the collar of her shirt.
A dark, blooming bruise.
Then another.
I reached out without thinking, ran my fingers across one of them slow. She flinched—more from surprise than pain—and turned to look at me.
I didn’t say anything. Just kept tracing them, my thumb brushing over the marks I’d left.
Mine.
It hit somewhere deep in my chest, sharp and primal. Not guilt—hell no. Something else. Satisfaction, maybe. Possession. Like the world could throw whatever it wanted at us, but she’d still carry proof she’d been with me. That I’d had her, held her, made her shake in my arms.
She swallowed hard, watching me with those wide eyes that always made me feel like I was standing too close to something sacred.
“Sorry,” I murmured, though I wasn’t. Not even a little. “Got carried away.”
Her lips twitched like she wanted to smile but didn’t dare.
I stepped back, grabbed my shirt off the floor, pulled it on over my shoulders like armor. The moment settled between us—warm, unsaid, permanent.
“Let’s move,” I said, voice back to gravel and smoke. “We’ve got ground to cover.”
She nodded, still moving a little slow but steadier now—just two souls carved up by the world but tethered to each other by something deeper than we knew how to name.
But I knew this much:
She was marked.
And not just on her neck.
I moved to the door, tugging my coat over one arm, but her hand caught my wrist before I could turn the handle.
“Wait,” she whispered.
I barely had time to glance over before she pulled me in and kissed me—soft but hungry, like she couldn’t let me go without it. Her fingers curled into the fabric at my chest, grounding herself in me like I was something worth clinging to.
I kissed her back slow, savoring it, letting it burn low in my gut again.
When I pulled back, I let my forehead rest against hers, our breath mingling.
“Darlin’,” I rasped, voice thick, rough like whiskey and gravel. “You keep touchin’ me like that, I’ll throw this door shut and put you right back where you were twenty minutes ago.”
She giggled—an actual goddamn giggle—and it hit me harder than anything else had all day.
I loved that sound.
Loved the way her smile crinkled her cheeks.
Loved her. All of her. Every stubborn, smart-mouthed inch of her.
Then her stomach growled. Loud.
She blinked, sheepish. “I guess… we’re going to eat.”
I smirked, brushing my thumb over the curve of her lower lip. “Yeah, angel,” I murmured. “And when we get back…” My voice dipped to a whisper, promise curling around it like smoke. “I’ll feast.”
Chapter 25
Everly
I followed Walton down the creaky stairs, still breathless from the kiss I’d pulled him into. My lips tingled, my heart thudded with this stubborn, giddy rhythm that refused to settle. The dim morning light filtered through warped windows, casting golden streaks across the dining area. It felt almost… safe. Like a memory that hadn’t yet gone bad.
The scent of breakfast wrapped around us—smoke, butter, something sweet and earthy. My stomach tightened with hunger, but there was something else beneath it, too. The lingering press of Walton’s hands on my hips. The feel of his breath against my mouth when he called me darlin’ like it was a sin and a prayer all at once.
The old woman looked up from the kitchen and caught my eye. Her smirk bloomed instantly, her gaze dancing with amusement. “Look at you two,” she said, voice syrupy with affection. “Newlyweds always have that glow.”
