Rejected by Her Mate Claimed by Four Alphas novel Chapter 201

CHAPTER 189

Clara’s POV

I sank onto him slowly, inch by inch. It was overwhelming in the best way. I felt his hot and thick c**k stretching me open until I had to grab his wrists just to stay grounded and not completely lose my wits

He groaned low in his throat, his grip on my waist tightening as I took all of him.

My head dropped back onto his shoulder. My thighs trembled in the water.

Then I moved.

My rhythm started shallow, slow, small motions of my hips that earned soft curses from him against my neck. The water splashed gently at first, rising around us, heat lapping at our skin. But soon, the pace picked up.

Every time I rolled my hips, he met me. Our movement wasn’t frenzied. Instead, it was just intense, powerful, steady, and his thrusts were so deep that I felt my brain go numb with each one.

His hands slid to my hips, fingers digging in. One slipped up to my breast, cupping me, thumb circling my n****e until I whimpered.

My moans were rising fast and real, and I didn’t try to muffle them. The way he filled me, moved inside me,

held me–there was no shame in it. Just relief and the urge for immediate release.

I braced my feet against the floor of the tub and moved faster, grinding down into him, letting the heat and

friction build where we were joined. My wet skin slapped against his, plap–plap, obscene and perfect.

His mouth was at my throat again, groaning thickly, hips rising to meet mine. I clenched around him on purpose and felt him twitch inside me.

“You’re perfect,” he rasped. “Fucking perfect.”

I couldn’t answer. My words were gone. All I had left was sound–a raw, broken cry that echoed off the bathroom tiles as I came hard, my whole body seizing in his lap, the pressure exploding into white–hot

bliss.

He held me through it, breath ragged, whispering something lost against my neck before he thrust up into me one last time and came, low and guttural, his arms locking tight around my waist as he emptied inside

1. me.

We stayed like that. Still joined. Still breathing hard.

The water had cooled by the time either of us moved again.

He reached for the washcloth and began cleaning me, slow and careful. I let him. Let him scrub the blood from my knees, the dirt from my thighs. His hands never left me, not really. They washed me, yes, but they also touched every inch of my body–brushing, stroking, and memorizing it all.

CHAPTER 13

His touch wasn’t sexual now. It was reverent. Like he was reminding himself, I was alive, and so was he.

t washed him in return. Traced the old scar on his side with gentle fingers. Kissed the one on his shoulder.

When we dried off and returned to the bedroom, it felt like we’d stepped into a different world. It was one where there was only the sound of quiet firelight and the hush of sheets pulled back.

I sank onto the bed and closed my eyes.

But Darius knelt beside me instead of lying down

“Turn over,” he said, voice low.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“You’ve done too much today. Let me help your muscles recover.”

I laughed a little. “You already helped me recover.”

He didn’t smile. “That was for your mind. This is for your body.”

I rolled onto my stomach with a sigh, cheek pressed to the pillow.

He climbed over my legs and straddled me, settling on the backs of my thighs. Then warm oil touched my

spine.

He started at my shoulders, firm hands working deep into the knots there. I groaned immediately, all pretense of resistance forgotten. His thumbs dug into the base of my neck, then swept down to the space between my shoulder blades.

“Goddess, yes,” I breathed.

He worked slowly, covering every inch of my back. I felt the tension bleed out of me with each long stroke. My eyes fluttered closed. But then he shifted lower.

His hands moved down, massaging along my waist, then my lower back–almost too low.

His thumbs pressed into the dimples just above my ass, spreading oil there, lingering. My breath caught.

He leaned in closer, his weight more obvious now. His body warmer and I felt it then–the distinct press of his c**k, hard again, beneath his loose pants, nudging against the curve of my ass through the blanket.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. My body already knew.

The massage slowed down.

His hands smoothed over my hips, fingers spreading, thumbs brushing the top of my inner thighs. I shifted beneath him, breath quickening, thighs parting instinctively. I felt the drag of the sheet across my skin.

He moved over me, one arm bracing beside my head, his chest against my back, his c**k now pressing harder, undeniable.

He kissed the side of my neck, slow and warm. His hips rolled forward once.

I made a suund of half invitation, half warning.

He hesitated. “Clara..”

I turned my head toward him. My lips almost brushed his.

“I’m tired.”

The tension in his body was immediate and obvious–but not one of frustration. Just reined in and controlled. Darius knew what he wanted. But he’d never take without permission.

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