The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 298

Chapter 146-2

Locke’s hands pause on my hips, his eyes widening slightly as he stares up at me.

He reaches up, his fingers stowly burying themselves in the dark weight tumbling over my shoulders, gathering the loose locks against his palms as if he can’t get enough of the feel of it.

I press my mouth to his jawline, my hair sweeping across his throat and shoulders like a curtain, isolating us completely in our own private world. I bite softly at the muscle flexing in his scarred jaw, feeling him shudder beneath me, before trailing my lips down over the heavy ink on his collarbone and across the

solid slabs of his chest.

I slide down, taking his hard, heavy c**k in my hands, holding him firm as I lower my head, my hair cascading down his thighs and draping across his hips like a shadow.

I take him into my mouth – slowly, deeply-wrapping my lips tight around him as I slide down his pulsing length.

Locke’s hips jerk off the floor, a dark, primal growl tearing from his throat that rattles the glass in the windows. His hands fly to the hair falling around my face and shoulders, his fingers threading through the thick strands, holding me close as he arches into my mouth.

“Jesus Christ, baby… fuck,” he groans, his knuckles turning white as he fights for control, his body trembling beneath me under the sheer force of the pleasure. “Your mouth is fucking incredible.”

I move over him with deliberate, intoxicating rhythm, letting him feel every ounce of the love, the devotion, and the desperate, fierce need I carry for him.

I swallow him deep, my hand swirling at his base, my throat opening wide to take more of his c**k, tasting the salty heat of his skin, pushing him to the absolute brink until his breathing turns into ragged, sharp

gasps.

When he can’t take another second of the sweet torture, his hands tighten in my hair, pulling me up off his

chest.

“No more,” he pants, his eyes completely consumed by fire, his chest heaving like a wounded beast. “I need to be inside you, Right now.”

In one swift, powerful motion, he shifts us, flipping me over onto the soft pile of the rug until I’m on all fours in front of the fire. My hair tumbles around my face and over my shoulder blades, pooling against the plush fibers of the rug.

“Locke -” I gasp out, my chest resting low against the rug. I feel the searing heat of his c**k’s blunt tip pressing directly against my p***y. “Please don’t make me wait… I need you.”

“Stay right there, baby,” he growls, his voice rough. He reaches forward with one hand, his fingers gathering the dark locks at the nape of my neck, sweeping them over my shoulder to expose the line of my throat. He gathers and grips my hair firmly to hold me still, while his other hand holds my hip right where he wants me. “You’re mine, Zara.”

He drives his huge c**k into me from behind… one long, deep, brutal thrust that fills me completely to the hilt.

13

Claim

<Chapter 146

A-sharp, breathless cry tears from my throat as our bodies lock together, the sheer depth of the angle hitting me like a physical shockwave. He fills every inch of my p***y, burying himself so deep it steals the air right out of my lungs.

He doesn’t wait; he immediately sets a heavy, relentless pace, his hips pounding against mine with a dark, primal drive that echoes through the quiet apartment.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps against my back, his chest pressing flat against my spine for a brief, fevered second as his mouth finds the exposed column of my neck, biting and kissing his way up to my ear. “Feel how fucking good you feel around me, Zara. Every time I touch you, you take all of me like your body’s star ving for me.”

I push back against him, meeting his brutal, rhythmic thrusts with my own desperate heat, letting the friction consume us whole.

“Look back at me,” he commands tightly, his fingers flexing against my hip, pulling me up just enough to deepen the angle. “I need to see you cum.”

I turn my head, and my eyes meet his, heavy-lidded and feverish. His face is dark with raw, unhinged desire, his jaw clenched as he watches himself slide in and out of my aching, grasping cunt, claiming me over and over.

“You’re mine,” he says, his hips driving home one final, devastating time. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I groan as the climax shatters through me, a blinding explosion of heat and tight, violent spasms that grip him completely. “Locke…”

The feeling of my body shattering around him snaps the last thread of Locke’s control. With a low, guttural roar, he buries himself into me as deep as he can go, his hands locking onto my hips with a bruising force as his own release hits him, pouring his life, his warmth, his cum, and his dark, fierce soul into me.

He collapses over my back, his heavy chest pressing me down into the rug, my hair spreading out between our bodies as his face buries into the side of my neck, our ragged, gasping breaths slowly aligning.

Neither of us speaks for a long time. Locke stays wrapped around me, his broad body keeping me pinned against the floor as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, the world outside will break through the glass and tear us apart.

I rest my face against my arms, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart against my back, watching the quiet smoke rise from the hearth.

I don’t know where he’s going tomorrow. I don’t know what dark shadows he’ll have to walk through, or how long I’ll have to sit in this penthouse alone, listening to the silence, listening for the elevator to ping.

But as I feel his hands lingering warm and possessive against my skin, gently trailing through the tangled strands of my hair, I know one thing with absolute, unshakeable certainty.

He will come back to me.

Because no matter how far he rides, this floor, this room, this life together… these things are his home.

I’m his home.

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