Page 7 of Dutiful Wolf's Mail Order Mate

“I don’t need you to be my whore. That’s not what we do here.” Rafe’s voice was a low, sensual growl. “Every touch will be one you want.”

A different, deeper heat pooled between my thighs. My nipples pebbled, begging to be touched. No one had made me feel this way before. Not the boys I denied when we were teens, not the men who stared in my twenties.

I arched my back, grinding against the hardness of Rafe’s body. Fates, I hated this. Loved it. Needed more. Needed him to quench the fire burning through my veins.

“Touch me,” I breathed.

I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a plea or a statement of absolute certainty. It didn’t matter. Because as soon as the words left my lips, his mouth crashed down onto mine.

The kiss was raw and savage, claiming my mouth with a brutal need. He growled low in his throat, the vibrations sending delicious shivers through me. My wolf howled in triumph, even as my body writhed against him.

One large hand curled around my throat, holding me in place as he ravaged my mouth. He kissed me like a dying man seeking salvation, and I welcomed the plunge of his tongue against mine. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire as we devoured each other, bodies melding together as if we were made to fit.

My breath hitched as his thigh nudged between my legs. Pleasure shot through me as he pressed against my core, sending heat coiling deep inside me. I yanked my hands free and buried them in his hair, tugging and pulling him closer.

He broke away with a feral snarl, and the world spun faster than I could track. One second, I faced him, the next, I had my hands braced against the wall.

“I’ll tell you when you can move those,” Rafe ordered.

The low growl in his voice made my knees go weak. I felt the warm brush of his breath against the nape of my neck, a teasing caress. His lips followed, trailing kisses over my shoulders and down my spine.

I groaned, arching into his touch. He cupped my ass, kneading the flesh with a firm grip. I turned my head, just enough to catch his eye. “If you wanted to bend me over, you could’ve just asked.”

His hand collided with my ass, and I gasped in surprise. Heat blossomed beneath my thin panties, a mix of pain and pleasure. My wolf panted in my head, a willing participant.

“That was for the disrespectful way you talk to me,” he said, the teasing plain in his voice even amid the huskiness of lust. “I get enough of that from the others, so you’ll fit right in.”

Another slap. Fire ignited under my skin, a flare of pain that quickly melted into something darker and unfamiliar. More intense.

“And that,” he continued, voice dropping to a dangerous rasp, “was for stripping when I told you not to.”

A third blow, sharper and harder than the first two. I hissed in a sharp breath, my wolf urging me to stay put and take my punishment.

Fates, it felt good. Every impact rippled through me, lighting up my nerves and sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. I hadn’t known my body could feel this way, hadn’t ever guessed. I’d strip through the streets if this was the end result.

“Rafe...” I moaned his name, pressing my forehead to the cool wood. “Please.”

He caught my chin and claimed my mouth again, a deep, demanding kiss. I gave in willingly, melting into him as his hands roamed over my body, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

My fingers curled into fists as I fought to obey his order to stay still. But then his fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of my panties, and every thought fled my mind.

“Oh fuck, Madison,” he ground out as his fingers slid between my thighs. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

I cried out as his hand landed another spank to my ass at the same moment his fingers stroked over my clit. White-hot pleasure lanced through me, and I ground my hips against him, not knowing what else to do and still needing so much more.

One finger probed at my entrance, and I whimpered in desperation. I felt like a live wire, every sensation amplified to the point of agony. The press of his palm against my lower back, the solid strength of his chest behind me, the throbbing ache between my legs.

And then, blessedly, the tip of his finger sank into me.

“So fucking tight,” he growled.

“Yours,” I gasped. “Only yours.”

That finger froze. “You’re a virgin?”

His body tensed against mine before I could answer. And then he was gone, hands ripping away from my body, his heat no longer burning me up from the inside. I sagged against the wall, hands sliding down as I tried to calm my racing heart and control my breathing.

“You’re a virgin?” he repeated, voice hoarse. His footsteps paced away, and I risked a look over my shoulder. “And I just—I was going to?—”

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