My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 150

Irina

There is a specific kind of starvation that makes you want to be treated like absolute trash. You stop caring about soft beds. You stop caring about who sees. You stop caring about your name, your title, or your dignity. You just want the blunt, physical weight of a man to crush the loud, frantic buzzing in your head.

He didn't carry me to a room. He didn't ask if I was sure.

He grabbed the heavy crimson silk of my skirts in both of his massive fists. He didn't bother trying to find a seam or a lace. He just pulled his hands apart. The fabric ripped straight up the middle.

The freezing night air hit my bare skin immediately. It was a physical shock. The sweat on my thighs instantly turned to ice. Goosebumps broke out across my legs and my stomach. I gasped, my chest heaving against the tight constraints of my corset.

I was completely exposed. From the waist down, I was standing completely naked on a stone balcony overlooking a courtyard of hundreds feral wolves. The thin strip of silk that had been my underwear was torn away with the dress, left hanging uselessly from one hip.

He didn't give me a single second to process the cold.

He shoved me forward. I stumbled over my ruined skirts. My stomach slammed hard against the rough stone railing of the balcony. The stone was freezing, covered in a thin layer of frost. It bit into my skin.

He stepped directly up behind me. He didn't try to be gentle. He didn't try to stroke my hair or kiss my neck. He simply gripped my hips with his large, calloused hands. His fingers dug so hard into my flesh I knew it would leave deep, dark bruises by morning. I didn't care. The pain grounded me.

He pulled my hips backward, forcing my ass completely flush against his groin.

"Look down," he growled directly into my ear. His breath was hot and smelled like strong, dark liquor.

I looked down over the railing. The massive firepits blazed directly below us. The heat rose up in thick waves, carrying the heavy, suffocating scent of roasting meat, sweat, and sex. Down in the dirt, the pack was still tearing into each other. Moans filling the air. Men driving into women. Men tearing into a fellow’s ass. Skin slapping against skin. A violent, unapologetic orgy of pure, raw instinct.

"You're just like them," he whispered roughly.

He didn't use his fingers to prepare me. He didn't ease into it. I was already dripping wet, my thighs slick with my own desperate arousal.

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