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Chapter Seventy: Filthy
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Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-One: Of course
I am not in heat; I cannot blame his scent or my nature as a wolf.Perhaps it is his hold on me, his unearthing beauty, or my absurd desire to please him.Yes...that's it.My desire for him to crave me. It is my yearning for him to want me that keeps me still as his thumb pokes intrusively in my mouth.Marko’s eyes look unfocused; their silver seems to lose its reflective shimmer as they yield to the newfound darkness clouding them.His hand adjusts slowly as if praying I halt him, but he does not understand how it thrills me to see him give in to me.The frown on his face deepens, but his conflicted emotion is coupled with the sliding of his index and middle fingers in my mouth.I yield willingly, pressing my tongue against the intrusive pair and wrapping my lips around them before wetting them enough to slide my tongue between them easily. His fingers taste clean; then again, a royal never has to open doors.An encouraging moan escapes me, seemingly sending his constrain out the win
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Two: Tomorrow.
“Monster! Beast! You bastard of a child! This is why I left! You are nothing but a monster! I will sue you for all you are worth, you bitch!” Bill hurls the words as he desperately clamours to stand. “Then I guess you will not be seeing your family soon, huh?” My retort seems to enrage him. “You cheap harlot, just like your mother!” His hand is to his face, trying desperately to soothe his wounds as they regenerate; only the glass piercing his skin hinders the process, visibly adding to his irritation. “I should never have-” One can tell Bill wishes to say more, perhaps redeem his lost honour, but the fear in his being at the man holding me burned too brightly, so while holding his tongue, he turns to the exit. God…why am I even here? "My men will get him to sign the documents." Marko whispers the words amid the chaos in my being, and while I wish to scoff, nothing within me gives. I should not be surprised that he had me followed, no, that he followed me and had the audacit
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Three: My One
Marko’s hold on the tweezers is precise; it doesn’t hurt when he pulls the shards lodged in me…then again, it could be the alcohol in my system numbing me to high heaven.I am stuck with him for lack of proper means of escape despite my insistence.His men cleared the road only after he shuffled uncomfortably and settled beside me in the cab. A pharmacy stop had sidetracked our visit to the liquor store, but because West wished to close, we returned to my mother’s house with the bulk of Whisky he purchased out of insistence. I should say my house now, shouldn't I?After all, what claim do the dead have on the living?But, calling it ‘mine’ would imply I have a place to call home, a place to run to when no such place exists, not in Red Graw nor Ketria, not even in the arms of my mate.I do not trust myself with Marko in an enclosed space, so I insisted we remain in the backyard, seated in the cold. I settled on the table of the rundown picnic chair, watching the lights in the distant h
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Four: Moment
Marko N"You know..."Alba began in a tone he had never quite heard from her before."I was jealous of Bill’s new family, jealous of my mum after she found your father. I was even jealous of you because I thought she would love you more than she did me; I mean, you are her mate’s child, and I the offspring of the man that abandoned her.”He could feel her tremble through his hold on her wrist, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop her words. Yes, to protect her vulnerability and have her share sober would be ideal, but he was almost certain she would never utter the words she did in any other state, so he stilled himself; that way, she would even forget he was there.“I was so scared of moving to Ketria. It was only when the dreams of her death began that I switched straight to survival mode. I forgot to deal with that jealousy, forced it into submission because maybe if I acted small enough for both of us...she wouldn't die."At her words, his hand wavered as his hold on her lessened
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Five: Correct
“Marko, I will not apologise for having your mother banished...what I will apologise for is not running far enough from you that you could never reach me. You should never have realised that I was your mate."Her words plunged something deep within him, and the newfound searing pain caused him to drop her wrist as if it scolded him.He could utter nothing in response to her harsh words, mainly because it would be an excuse if he did—an excuse that might cause her to halt her tale and for them to spiral into an argument.But how dare she utter those words to him?How dare she insinuate he had no right to find his mate!"The dream that told me you were my mate made me wish for death.”She uttered with a broken smile before taking a swig of her liquor.“I had always told myself I would love my mate so deeply that they would not stray. I wanted everything between us to be perfect; they wouldn’t have a family they must leave, and I wouldn’t be breaking theirs. Our love would be normal and
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Six: Ringing
He should insist that they run inside, away from the cold, and finish their business there, but what if they sobered up before then…what if she pushed him away? What if she remembered that she had one to go home to now? The thoughts irritated him into pinching a stiff bud that caused her to twitch her body in such a way that he felt the softness in her core jolt against his hardness. He shouldn’t, but his head bent to taste the divine buds from the glorious flesh splayed before him, captivating him to insanity. The feel of her skin against his lips aroused him, but it was her scent that made him growl like a beast; Christ, he could devour her. A moan escaped her before her hand sunk into his hair. “Not so hard, Marko.” She whispered as he continued to suck on her bud, twirling his lips about it just to feel her texture. Not so hard? He could eat her whole if she let him. Acquiescing to her demand, he used his tongue to soothe and tease the nub that prodded against his mouth. Ab
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Seven: Love
Marko Christ, what had he done? What of the bond? He could smell her now, so what did that- A hearty chuckle escaped her, stilling the panic in his being. “Good God, that was fast!” She uttered again with a louder laugh, but his stomach would not let him join her, “God! We are like animals!” She uttered as she lowered her sweater and pulled her pants to decency. She did not wipe his seed, merely covered it, he wanted to help clean her, but he couldn’t bring himself to suggest the act; what if he lost his sanity again? “Relax…” She whispered as she slid from the table, wobbling slightly, perhaps because of the weakness he induced in her knees. He should be proud, but regret at his irresponsibility claimed him. How could he do that? How could she let him? “There is no need to resemble a deer in headlights; the scent is gone. The bond is still broken.” Impossible, he could still… He raised his nose to confirm, and…it was gone. Her…bubble gum (?) scent was gone. The scent h
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Seventy-Eight: Straying
AlbaThe thumping of my heart will not cease; my body’s frame is hard against the door I slammed in his wake, but my knee’s support leaves me pooling on the cold floor.The room is dark, and only light from the industrial streetlights pools in from the window, yet that diminishes my need to turn on the house’s lights. My stomach burns; it is not the alcohol swimming in my veins, enticing bravery where none calls for it, but the seed he spilt on me under his lustful gaze, the growl he voiced on my flesh, his command, his dominance…everything sent my body burning.His anger has never affected me this way, even with the bond intact; all I wished to do was pacify him, but now…I want more.I want him to spill more on me, his anger, his rage, his force; I want him to break me.The pull of my sweater and shirt from my frame was easy. The discarding of my poorly ripped bra, on the other hand, was not because it hung against my bruised flesh like a torn jacket, but thank heaven, his moisture
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