Page 55 of Wrestling With Werewolves

Agreed. Help me.

He scrambles forward as I growl into her pussy. Big Daddy’s tone deepens the noise, vibrating against her skin. The effect is immediate. Lola wails and curls in half, nearly ripping my hair out by the roots as slick spurts from her to cover my nose and mouth.

Goddess, yessssss. More. Do it again.

Never stopping, I practically moan into our connection as I eat Lola all the way through orgasm. I don’t stop until she’s trembling and laughing and shoving my head away.

Even then, I flip her over onto all fours and press her into the soft fabric of the sofa, exposing her sweet pussy to me. She’s a damn mess, and I’ve never been more into anything in my entire life. Burying my face between the globes of her ass, I lick and kiss and suck my way from her dripping pussy to the pucker of her ass and back again.

I drag two more orgasms from her before she collapses on the sofa in an exhausted heap. She waves me away when I crawl over top of her to start all over again.

Nudging her thighs apart with my knee, I position myself between them, my cock resting on her taut stomach. “You’re a mess, omega,” I say with a laugh. Moonlight beams through the big glass wall at the front of my house, shining down on her beautiful, smooth skin. Reaching down, I stroke my fingers down her chest and over, softly pinching her pebbled nipples.

Lola arches her back with a happy-sounding hum, her breast filling my palm.

“Goddess, I’m ready again,” I admit, leaning down to pull her nipple between my teeth.

“Fuck!” She wraps the fingers of both hands through my hair and tightens her grip.

My eyes move to her as I mouth her nipple, playing with the hard bud.

“I’m finding it nearly impossible not to ask you to bite me,” she admits, “and that is the opposite of taking things slowly.”

Big Daddy and I groan as one. Rocking back onto my heels, I admire the beautiful woman splayed on the sofa beneath me. She’s perfect—good, kind, wise, so free with her thoughts and emotions.

“There’s not supposed to be anything between us,” I manage. “This distance is unnatural, but we were right to put anything formal on hold given what’s going on with Marco.”

She shifts out from underneath me and sits upright, placing both hands flat on my chest. “I agree; I just don’t know how long I can keep this up for.” One hand comes down and palms my sack, rolling my balls between her fingers. “I want this, Richard,” she murmurs. “With a desperation that’s got to give sooner than later.”

I chuckle, helping her wrap her fingers around my girthy length. “You can have this any time, Luna.”

Black eyes move to mine. “You think you’d be able to knot me and not bite me?”

I groan at the very idea of knotting my Luna without that bite sealing us together.

“Maybe,” I admit, panting as her hand strokes a hot line down my cock. “I’d…try.”

Her throaty laugh rumbles between us. “We don’t have to do it right now, but think about it. I need it, Alpha.”

Bringing my mouth down, I slant my lips over hers, reveling in the softness of her mouth on mine. Her tongue dips between my lips, tangling with mine as we deepen the kiss.

I break it long enough to say, “Stay here with me tonight. Don’t go home.”

When her long arms wrap around my neck, her kiss growing frenzied, I take it as a yes.

Iwake with the sun like always, shocked to find a lithe, smooth body curled against my front.

Luna. Sleeping.

Last night flashes back to me, how I bathed her and fed her and then tucked her into my bed after we played. Her curls are huge this morning, mussed and tangled. Deep inside me, a sense of unease wars with the absolute rightness of Lola in my bed.

Vikand’s words ring in my head—given a choice between your king and your Luna, what would you pick?

Staring at Lola as she shifts and stretches, I know the answer. It’s her. It was always going to be her. Now I’ve got to figure out how to convince her father not to murder me until I can explain what Lola and I are to each other. A Luna bond isn’t completely unheard of, but it’s rare enough that even Marco can’t deny that sort of connection. I’ve read Vikand’s book cover to cover—the parts in English—and there’s not much he didn’t already share.

What’s important is what’s written in the language of our goddess, and I can’t read that.

“I can hear you thinking,” Lola says softly, blinking near-black eyes open to smile at me. “Wanna say it aloud so we can tackle it together?”

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