Page 25 of Caught

Silas didn’t hesitate. The second that word left Evan’s lips, his grip tightened, and the teasing, controlled pace was gone. Hetook.

His thrusts turned feral, all restraint shattered as he drove into Evan with the kind of intensity that left no room for thought. Just sensation—raw, consuming, impossible to escape. The rough bark bit into Evan’s chest, his fingers scrabbling for purchase, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Silas. The heat of his body, the sheer force of every movement, the brutal rhythm that left Evan gasping, reeling, drowning.

Overstimulation crackled through him, a live wire under his skin. He had nothing left, every nerve frayed, too much and still somehow not enough. But every time Silas dragged his swollen knot against that spot inside him, Evan twitched, his cock leaking untouched, caught in an endless loop of pleasure that had no mercy, no escape.

His brain went white-hot, his body useless against the wave pulling him under. He was gone, lost in the rhythm of Silas’ hips, the deep growls rumbling against his skin, the unbearable stretch of being taken apart and put back together in the same breath.

A vicious snarl tore from Silas’ throat. His grip bruised, his thrusts turned sloppy, erratic. His knot swelled, pushing deep, holding Evan in place as his body locked up behind him.

And then, heat.

Evan gasped, his whole body clenching around the pulse of Silas spilling inside him, the sensation tipping him into something deeper, something darker. His mind blanked, pleasure curling through every muscle, every nerve ending, leaving him nothing but a trembling wreck against the tree.

Silas didn’t move. Couldn’t. He just stayed there, chest heaving, body rigid against Evan’s back, holding him inside, together, claimed.

Evan’s breath shuddered out of him. His body was spent, wrung out, barely able to process the aftershocks still rolling through him. But the weight of Silas behind him, the steady pulse inside him, the slow drag of rough fingers over his stomach—it was enough.

Evan swallowed hard, eyes slipping shut, exhaustion pulling him under.

He had never been more full.

He should have been exhausted—wasexhausted—but the pleasure still thrummed through him, deep and low, echoing with every slow pulse of Silas’ heartbeat against his back. His mate’s arms wrapped around him, strong and possessive, pressing him close as if he could somehow pull Evan deeper into himself.

Silas nuzzled into the crook of Evan’s neck, his breath hot and ragged against sweat-damp skin. His grip tightened, his handsplaying over Evan’s stomach possessively. "You were made for me."

Evan smirked, though it was ruined by the breathless way he sagged back against Silas’ chest. "Tell that to my legs. I think they're too wobbly to walk."

Silas huffed out a laugh, pressing a slow, almost tender kiss to Evan’s temple. "I’ll carry you."

And he would. He always did.