Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 420

Chapter 420: Not Your Mate

Sofia’s POV

For a moment, silence filled the office—only the sound of our ragged breathing and the creak of the desk beneath us. My body was wrecked, trembling, sweat cooling on my skin. I thought—hoped—it was over.

But then Damien didn’t soften. He didn’t pull out.

My eyes flew open, my heart lurching when I felt him still hard, still deep inside me. His breath came rough against my ear, his voice a gravelly growl.

"Not yet," he rasped. "I’m not finished."

My stomach dropped. "Damien—" My protest cracked into a gasp as his hips shifted, pulling back and slamming forward again with savage force.

"Thought I’d let you go that easy?" he snarled, his teeth grazing my throat. "No. I have missed this for three fucking years."

Damn it. I forgot how a beast Damien was in sex. He could go round upon round with me.

I clawed at his shoulders, half to push him away, half to anchor myself as he set a brutal pace, driving into me like he was carving his name into my body. My legs slipped from his shoulders, but he caught them, folding me in half, pinning me open beneath him.

The angle was ruthless. Every thrust struck deep, knocking the air from my lungs, making my body bow and shudder helplessly against the desk.

but the words were breathless, broken,

as his mouth crashed against mine, devouring me, punishing me. "You don’t want

still he moved harder, faster, and relentlessly. His groans mingled with my cries, filling the room with the raw chaos of us—anger, lust, hate, and need

coiling tight, too much, too fast. "Damien!" I screamed, cumming for


And finally—finally—he let go.

he spilled inside me, the force of his release shaking

he sagged against me, both of us spent, chests heaving, sweat-slick skin

jelly. Every muscle in my body trembled as I tried to push myself up from the desk. The wood was slick beneath my palms. I slid off the edge, my knees

gripping my arm

Damien muttered, his voice still raw, his grip tight around my waist as he

My hair clung to my damp face; my chest heaved.

the hell is wrong with you?"

of his hold. "I’m not officially your mate," I spat. "Not really. She might be out there somewhere, Damien. Your real mate. What

chest rising and falling, sweat gleaming on his skin. "I’ve already accepted you," he said, voice rough,

around myself as if that would keep me from breaking. "I don’t have your mark," I threw back at him, my voice cracking on the last word. "That’s all

don’t have my mark," he said slowly,

truth hung between

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