Page 108 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

“Just ask nicely, Annie.” There’s a new note in his voice, a gravelly depth that has nothing to do with his wolf.

I prop myself on his folded biceps. They’re hard and velvet and flexing under my palms. He’s doing that on purpose.

I stare down into his face. He winks.

I curl my fingers around the bunched muscle. They’re at least twice, maybe three times, too big for me to wrap my hands around. All of him is huge. My thighs are stretched to aching from sitting on top of him.

He could crush you.

But I’m on top, and he’s lying so patiently underneath me, even as his cock throbs against the seam of my pants. He’s huge there, too. And insistent.

I sit tall and gaze down at the smirk half-hidden by his beard and the need swirling in his dark eyes.

I squeeze my thighs together, just a bit. The need swirls brighter. My lips are curving now.

“Annie,” he groans.

“Ask nicely,” I whisper. I don’t know where my boldness is coming from, but it somehow feels familiar, like this is who I am, too, underneath it all.

“Please, Annie.” He cranes his neck to stare at where I’m straddling him.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

This time, when he groans, there is plenty of wolf in it. “Come here. Lie back down.”

He takes my forearms and draws me forward. I lean over until we’re nose to nose. My hair falls in his face. His palms smooth down my sides to rest at my waist.

“Does this feel good?” he asks as he flexes his hips.

I gasp. My eyelids drift closed as all my attention refocuses on the pressure and heat between my legs.

He does it again.

I whimper.

“It feels so good to me,” he says quietly, his lips brushing mine as he speaks.

He pulses his hips, and every time, it feels better and better, until I feel my own hips rocking to meet his thrusts. His grip on my waist tightens, his fingertips pressing into the swell of my bottom. My toes curl.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers.

I don’t hesitate to do what he asks. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s on my side. He wants this, too. I blink, meeting his smoldering gaze. He wants it as badly as I do.

I grind harder, but what I need is just out of reach. “What do I do?” I pant. If I were alone in my bedroom, I’d touch myself to get there, but he’s here, and my brain is fuzzy as hell, but I’m not so far gone that I’d shove my hands down my pants with him watching.

“Trust me?” He’s panting too.

“Yes,” I gasp.

He slides a hand between us so he’s cupping my butt with his thumb pressing right over my clit. The fabric dulls the sensation, but it’s still exactly right. My gaze darts from his fingers to hisface and back again while my lungs constrict and a knot coils tighter and tighter in my belly.

“Come now,” he growls, and I shatter, throwing my head back, a wolfish howl ripped from my throat.

I’m bathed in the absolute best feeling on earth—better than a warm bath, an electric fan on sweaty skin on a summer night, a mixing bowl with lots of batter left to lick.

I gaze down at Justus in wonder. I’ve made myself come before, but that was nothing like this. This is magic.

“All right, Scout?” His eyes twinkle.

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