Chapter 152

Chapter 152: Chapter 152

Drake’s pov

"Only you," he gasped into the pillow, his frame shuddering as I worked my hand in slow, heavy pumps, expanding him, preparing him for the full weight of my presence. "Drake... only you. Please."

I pulled my fingers out, the wet friction loud in the quiet bedroom. I lined my hips up behind his, the heavy crown of my length pressing firmly against his slick entrance.

I took his hips in my hands, my thumbs digging into the soft skin above his thighs, pinning him securely to the mattress.

"Stay still," I ordered softly.

I pushed forward, driving my length into his hot, tight channel in one continuous, unyielding stroke.

Lysander cried out as his body stretched to accommodate my size. He arched his back, pushing his hips hard against mine, taking every inch until my pelvis slammed flush against his cheeks. My heart thundered beneath my chest as I stared down at him.

The heat inside him was suffocating. His body clamped around my shaft like a vise, milking me, pulling me deeper into his internal warmth.

I paused, burying my face into his damp hair, my chest heaving against his back as I held myself fully buried inside him. The sensation was overwhelming—so tight, so hot, and so entirely mine that the cold, calculating thoughts in my head vanished into a white-hot haze.

"Drake... fuck," Lysander whimpered, rocking his hips back against mine, desperate for the motion. "Don’t stop. Please..."

A low, primal growl tore from my throat.

I pulled back almost all the way, the slick friction dragging across his sensitive walls, and then slammed back in hard.

The heavy bed frame creaked under the impact. Lysander buried his face into the pillow, a broken, breathless sob escaping his lips as I set a punishing, relentless rhythm. I held his hips firmly, my fingers leaving deep marks on his pale skin as I drove into him with a pace that left no room for breath, no room for speech, and no room for secrets.

Every thrust was an assertion of dominance. Every heavy slam of my hips against his was a physical reminder of who owned his body, his blood, and his life.

"Drake! Ah... God, Drake!" Lysander whimpered, his arms shaking as he tried to support himself against the pillows. His body quivered around my shaft, his internal muscles clenching in violent, helpless contractions as I hit his sweet spot over and over again.

I reached around his waist, my fingers locking firmly around his throat, pulling his upper body back until his spine was pressed flat against my chest. I buried my face into his neck, biting down hard enough to leave a deep, dark mark right over his pulse point—claiming him physically, overriding every dark memory and unspoken lie with my own heat and scent.

Lysander gasped, his hand flying up to cover mine where it rested on his throat. He leaned back into the bite, his hips working frantically against mine, riding my thrusts with a wild, unhinged desperation.

"That’s it," I rasped into his ear, my free hand sliding down to wrap around his hard, leaking shaft. "Take all of it, Lysander. Show me who you belong to."

"Yours," he choked out, his whole body trembling as I stroked his length in time with my heavy thrusts. "I’m yours... Drake... please... I’m going to come..."

"Say it," I growled, tightening my grip on his throat just enough to constrain his breath, my hips slamming into him with brutal, uninterrupted force. "Tell me whose mate you are."

"You!" he sobbed out, his tight walls squeezing down on my length in violent, rhythmic spasms. "I’m yours! Drake... please... let me come!"

I gave his shaft three hard, fast strokes while driving myself as deep into his body as I could go.

Lysander shattered beneath me.

His entire body went rigid, a long, high moan tearing from his throat as his climax hit him in violent waves. Thick pulses of slick cum spilled over my fingers, coating his stomach and his abs as his body convulsed against mine. His internal walls clenched down on my shaft so hard, so hot, that the last of my restraint snapped completely.

I let out a low, animalistic roar into his skin, my hips locking forward as my own climax tore through my veins.

I poured into him—hot, heavy pulses of my essence filling him deep inside his tight, milking channel. I held him crushed against my chest, my arms locked around him, thrusting weakly to milk out every last drop deep inside him.

Lysander collapsed forward onto the mattress, completely spent, his breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps.

I stayed buried inside him, my heavy body resting over his back, my forehead pressed against his damp neck as our heartbeats thundered together in the quiet room. The scent of cedar, sweat, and my own dominant essence filled the air, thick and absolute, wiping away the cold chill of the outside world.

I slowly pulled out of him, a low hum of satisfaction escaping his throat as I settled beside him on the sheets.

Lysander didn’t move away. He immediately turned into my side, pressing his sweaty forehead against my chest, his fingers clutching weakly at my waist. He looked exhausted, thoroughly taken, and completely broken, exactly where he belonged.

I wrapped my heavy arm around him, pulling him tight against my side, resting my chin on top of his damp head.

He had lied to me. He was still keeping secrets. He was still hiding behind a fragile, broken mask to protect whatever dark truth he was afraid of.

I stroked his hair gently, my thumb tracing the shell of his ear.

It didn’t matter.

He was here, in my bed, filled with my essence, locked beneath my roof. I had patience. I had a network of shadow operatives watching his every move. He could keep his lies for now—because no matter how far he thought he could run, he would always end up right back in my hands.