Page 19 of Fated In Winter

This didn’t make any sense, yet here we were, both of us trying to catch up. Our hands were all over one another, kissing and stroking and touching. And when I leaned down, slid my fingers between her legs, she moaned, arching into me.

“You’re all sweet sexy curves and muscle.”

“Talking about muscle,” she whispered, clawing at my arms. I plunged two fingers deep inside her, and she was tight, wet, and all hot. My thumb went over her clit. She let out a deep gasp and came, clenching around my fingers with just that one stroke.

“Hot off the mark,” I grumbled, and she slapped at my shoulder.

“It’s been a while.”

“How long?” I asked, needing to know. Being so possessive, I could barely control myself.

“Long enough.”

I kissed her again, needing more.

I lowered myself further down the bed, pulled up her hips, and knelt between her legs. I latched onto her lips, pressing her pussy to my face as I licked, and I sucked, and I took in each moan of hers as if they were my due, my pleasure, my everything.

She tugged at my hair and I grinned, hummed along her clit. When she came again, I lowered myself to the bed, hovered over her, and pushed into her with one deep thrust. She clamped around my cock. I could barely hold it together.

“Conner,” she whispered, her claws digging so deep into my back, I knew she would leave marks.

“Romy.”

We froze, both of us connected as we tried to suck in our breath, the touch-starved tension that we had been in slowly receding into a temptation and addiction I hadn’t known I had been craving.

I met her gaze then, and she arched her hips, letting me go even deeper. And when I couldn’t hold back anymore, I moved.

We moved as one, me pounding into her as she met me thrust for thrust, and when she pushed at my shoulder, I growled, but I let her move me so I was on my back, and she was riding me.

I put both hands on her breasts, plucking at her nipples as she rode me, rolling her hips and sending me nearly over the edge. When she leaned down and kissed me, I slid one hand around her back, the other over her ass and between her cheeks to play with her, and when she moaned into me, bit at my lip, we moved faster.

My wolf growled, howling, needing more, needing to mate. To mark.

But I didn’t. Neither one of us did. My fangs elongated, but I refuse to mark her. Instead, I kissed her, needing her taste, finding my addiction, finding my salvation.

And when I shouted her name, growling deep into her, I came, my dick twitching as I filled her. Her pussy clamped around me, her orgasm so beautiful I knew I would need to see it again and again until I found my purpose. My need.

And then the unthinkable happened. The bond snapped between us, a presence of warmth, peace, and beauty I’d never seen before. It was gold thread wrapped around gold thread, tightly wound between my wolf and hers, between the human half of my soul and hers.

She sat up, her hands going to her neck, and then mine, as we looked at one another, our bodies still quaking from orgasm, and we realized what had happened.

Without a mark, without the true force of our bond, we were mates. Bonded irrevocably and connected until the end of our days.

Our wolves had chosen for us without completing the mating in the usual way.

Tears fell from her eyes, and I sat up, holding her close, even as I was still buried balls deep inside her.

“Romy,” I whispered, feeling as if I had found my other half, my purpose.

I could feel her loneliness, the way that her wolf reached out for any form of hope or connection. My wolf did the same, holding her wolf close, as if the two of us had never been near another. I wrapped my arms around her, held her close as she broke down.

“Romy.”

“How?

“I don’t know. But I’m never letting you go.”

This wasn’t how mating was supposed to work. It was supposed to be a choice, a chance.

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