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Claimed By A Father And Son Novel Cover

Claimed By A Father And Son

After going into her first heat on campus, a young woman is pinned down and claimed by a powerful Alpha. The situation escalates when the Alpha's father discovers them and demands his turn. Bound by fated mate bonds to both men, she is forced into a world of obsession and physical marks. Now, she faces an impossible choice between the man who claimed her first and the one who made her beg. Only one Alpha can be her final mate in this dark modern romance.
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Chapter 4

: He’s Your Mate

~Elena~

“No. Nope. Absolutely not. There’s no way that man is my mate. You should’ve seen his face, Ava. The way he talks, the way he moves. He looks like he’s already fucked every girl on this campus and probably half the faculty too. His dick is probably exhausted.”

“Elena…”

“No, listen to me. His dick probably has an accent and a passport at this point. That thing has mileage. I don’t know how many girls he’s been inside, but I’m pretty sure if I had a microscope, I’d find at least seven different kinds of regret on the tip alone.”

Ava choked out a laugh. “You’re unwell.”

“I’m serious. I don’t care how good he smells. I don’t care how deep his voice gets when he calls me Omega. I don’t care if my wolf is panting in the corner of my brain like a bitch in heat. I am not letting that man claim me just because the universe decided to play some sick, knotting, breeding kink joke on me.”

“Your wolf already chose him, Elena.”

I blinked. My heart dropped.

Because the truth was… I haven’t heard her voice yet. But I have a feeling. She wasn’t quiet. She wasn’t confused. She was thrumming. Purring. Pushing.

And worse?

She wanted him to come back.

Now.

Let him claim us, she whispered again. Let him show you what it feels like to belong to an Alpha who doesn’t ask… only takes.

I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. “I’m not ready for this.”

Ava’s voice softened. “You’re not supposed to be ready. Your heat doesn’t care about timelines, babe. When it hits, it hits. And if he’s your mate…”

“Then I’m already fucked.”

“Oh shit,” I murmured. My eyes squeezed shut. My thighs pressed again. “I need to control it.”

I sat up on the bunk, heart racing, towel barely holding, sweat already beading at the back of my neck despite the cold air in the room. My skin felt too hot. My mouth too dry. I couldn’t get enough air in, no matter how fast I inhaled.

“He must not notice,” I whispered.

He can’t.

He must not smell it.

Fuck… he must not.

But he would.

Lucian Blackthorne would walk back in, take one breath, and know.

The call ended without a goodbye.

I dropped my phone beside me, chest heaving, nipples hard against the wet fabric of my towel.

I could still hear Ava’s voice ringing in my head, could still feel her warning sinking under my skin like poison.

He’s your mate, Elena.

Your scent is changing.

He’ll know.

And the worst part? I heard a strange voice inside of me.

What was happening to me?!

You can’t lie to me, she murmured, voice low and thick and female. You want him. You want what he promised. You want that knot inside you.

“No,” I gasped. “No, I don’t… Who the fuck are you!”

Then why are your fingers twitching, Elena?

I looked down.

My thighs were soaked. Not damp. Not warm. Soaked. The towel between them had darkened, and I couldn’t pretend it was leftover water from the shower anymore.

This was heat.

This was need.

This was my body calling out for him like it had already chosen.

“I can’t,” I whispered again. “I can’t want him.”

Then touch yourself or I’ll make us go down there and let him do it for us.

“What! I don’t understand! Who are you! Why can I hear your voice so loud in my head?”

I whimpered, pressing my palm hard between my legs, trying to hold the pressure still, trying to keep it from rising.

But it was already rising.

I didn’t even mean to slip my hand lower. I didn’t mean to spread my knees wider. It just happened.

The towel bunched up around my hips, and I tilted back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open.

One finger.

One press.

And I moaned.

“Ah… f-fuck…” I gasped into the crook of my arm, hips shifting against the mattress as my body demanded more pressure, more friction, more of something I couldn’t name without choking on it.

I bit down on my fist, trying to stay silent.

It didn’t work.

“Please…” I whispered, not even sure who I was begging. My thighs trembled, and my back arched as the tension climbed higher, hotter, harder.

“Please what?” The same fucking voice again!

Please let him walk in? Please let him knot you right here like an animal? Say it. Say it out loud, little Omega.

I whimpered.

“Ahh…”

I bit my lip. Hard.

But it didn’t stop the next one.

“Mmhh—fuck…”

My head fell back against the pillow, hair still wet, towel already slipping below my hips. My hips rolled once against the bed and I gasped.

“Lucian…”

And then again, louder.

“Lucian…”

“Oh my… Fuck…”

“Please…”

The pressure hit again. I arched hard against the bed.

“Lucian… Lucian… ahh… fuck, yes… Lucian…”

“Why do I feel like I’m going to explode? Fuck… fuck—I feel insane. What’s happening to me?”

“Oh fuck. Fuck. I can’t. I can’t stop. I feel everything—everything—too much. Too hot. Too wet. Too good—oh my God—why does it feel this good?”

My hips bucked and I sobbed again, nearly screaming into the pillow.

“It hurts. It hurts to need this much.”

“No, no, no… fuck, I need it… I need it…”

I was babbling now, rubbing harder, faster, chasing that next climax like a madwoman.

My toes curled and I nearly screamed again.

“I want him—I want his knot—I want his fucking cock—fuck, I want him to split me open—ahhh—Lucian, please—Lucian, I’m going to cum…”

And I did.

I arched my back, lifting off the mattress as I cried his name through the orgasm.

“I’m so fucking hot—why am I so hot—why do I feel like this—fuck, it won’t stop—why won’t it stop…”

My whole body shook, and I curled on the bed like something possessed, whimpering his name through clenched teeth as tears wet my cheeks.

“Lucian… Lucian… Lucian, please…”

And then.

A knock at the door.

Fuck.

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