Page 28 of Crescent Warrior

He was a fully grown Werewolf in his prime and every inch of him bulged with muscle. He was yanking at his clothes, never moving his gaze from her own, challenging her. She glanced away first, scuttling backward, but her legs were spread for him.

Oh Gods, this is humiliating.

This man was the one who rejected her. He didn’t want Hippolyta. He wanted his mate. Even that thought, usually bone-jarringly painful, wasn’t enough to staunch the heat flowing through her veins. Her eyes jumped to his as realization dawned.

“Scent me,” she whispered.

“I intend to,” he purred, his voice husky, the underlying growl obvious.

It made her whimper, her hips undulating on the bed.

“Cole,” she gasped. “Am I in heat?”

He froze, stilling as he sniffed the air. His eyes clashed with hers again, widening with horror.

She scrambled backward, away from him, squeezing her legs shut. Her last heat was later than this the previous year, but maybe because he was in such close proximity, it came early.

The hand that clamped on her thigh was strong and immovable. He leaned in, jerking her legs open forcefully, burying his face against her pussy, hiking her dress up to bare her to him.

Her sopping panties were barely any barrier. She whimpered, her back arching as he swiped his tongue across the material.

“I need to go,” she gasped, her hands defying her as they gripped his hair, pulling him closer. “We can’t do this.”

“I’m not going to fuck you yet, my Lyta.” His eyes met hers as he ripped her panties from her, the sharp sting of the material pulling against her skin making her whimper. He did the same with the side of her dress until she was fully bared to him, the material still clinging to her shoulders.

He gave her an appreciative groan before returning to her pussy, his gaze hungry. The first tiny lick was just enough to make her jolt, her body shaking and already on the edge of an orgasm.

Why now? Why do I have to be in heat now?

Her thoughts were lost on another helpless whimper as he buried his tongue inside of her, his nose rubbing against her clit as he inhaled deeply.

“Your scent, Lyta,” he growled. “I’ve wanted to have my face buried here for so long I can’t even remember.”

After I left and you realized what I was to you.

The thought did nothing to stymie the desperate, burning fire of her arousal, but it shot a lance of pain straight through her heart.

“I’m going to stay here all night,” he promised, returning to his previous occupation, burying his tongue inside of her, wrapping his arms around her thighs to hold her open.

He lifted a thumb to massage her clit and he spanned the other hand to pull the hood taut so the bare, sensitive bundle was fully on display to him.

She was gasping, clawing at the sheets, her head twisting from side to side as her incoherent cries and gasps sounded loudly in the room. He didn’t change his pace, reaching up to cup one of her breasts, plumping it and squeezing it in a way that was driving her insane.

“You weren’t wearing a bra?” he growled.

She smirked at the jealousy in his voice, even as her entire body trembled with pleasure. He lifted her effortlessly, baring her ass to him and smacked a hand across one cheek. Her eyes flew open, the sharp sting tethering her to the very edge, ramping up her arousal to maximum.

“How dare you?” she gasped, and his eyes glittered at her darkly.

A second later, he was lifting her, manhandling her until she was on her knees in front of him. He was kneeling behind her, her wrists held by one of his giant hands at the small of her back.

She should be furious. She should buck him off and get out of the hold. She should be doing anything but purring and rolling her damn hips back at him.

The next smack was sharper, with more force behind it. She cried out, spreading her legs as she tried to rock against the sheets for any kind of stimulation. The growl he gave her made her go still as he leaned down to bite her on her ass. Sobbing, she struggled, but he just smacked the other cheek harder, making her lose her mind.

“Don’t,” she begged, not knowing how high her pleasure could spiral.

If her next orgasm was as strong as she thought it was going to be, she wasn’t sure she could survive it.

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