Page 3 of Whisper Woods

“That’s it, it’s peaceful, you know?” My tone is light, and I shrug my shoulders, fighting the urge to fold my arms over my chest, when his eye searches mine. He doesn’t believe my casual buffoonery for a moment.

I wonder if he’s actually a mind reader? I know fae can do it, probe into your brains a bit. Witches, too. It’s considered rude, and we’re taught as kids how to put up our shields to the best of our abilities. Even human kids. But I can’t feel him poking around in there.

It’s like he can justseeme.

It steals the breath from my chest, seizing my muscles.

I can’t believe it when his hand reaches out, reaches up, to cup my cheek. Strong fingers stroke the dusting of stubble there, soothing, questioning. And all of a sudden I’m back under that spell again.

When his hand moves to cup the back of my neck to pull me closer, there is no resistance in me. I am helpless for him, my feet taking the last steps until I’m close enough that I can feel the roughness of the cloth of his shirt against my skin.

Those long fingers of his thread their way through my hair, tangling themselves the way I’d fantasised doing to him only moments ago. He searches my face, looking for something. Permission? I don’t trust myself to open my mouth to give it to him. Instead, I lick my lips, a shuddering, shaky breath escaping meas I try to lurch closer.

His hand is tight in my hair, though, stopping me from moving far. He’s stronger than he appears, and the knowledge sends another white-hot flare of lust straight to my balls.

As if he can sense his victory over me, a smile creeps over his face. Confident, like a hunter who’s successfully snared their prey.

I should probably be worried. An unknown being appearing out of the shadows in the middle of the Woods like a dream should only spell danger. But when he finally drags my face down to his, all I can think about is what that closely cropped beard will feel like against me. If he tastes as good as he smells.

Wolf howls in satisfaction at the first gentle pressure of his lips. They move against mine, tasting, testing, until I whimper a desperate whining sound that would have been embarrassing if it didn’t seem to snap the last threads of his control.

His mouth opens and I sweep my tongue inside, the kiss turning messy with need. My hands, no longer trapped at my side in an attempt at self restraint, cup the back of his head, to keep him in place. His other hand reaches around to grab a handful of my ass cheek, giving it an almost painful squeeze, then kneading the mound in harsh circles, and a whimper catches in my throat.

Using his grip on my ass, he tugs me closer, until we are pressed together, my naked body surrounding him. He feels incredible as I grind into him. Fitting perfectly in my arms so I don’t have to bend awkwardly, and while he’s leaner than me, he feels powerful. Strong.

We kiss until the need to breathe overtakes us and release each other only to bite and kiss and lick along each other's jaws and necks. It’s a fight of dominance, whose lips manage to make contact with skin. My hands, no longer tied in those long, dark locks, instead knead and palm every inch I can reach, pulling him closer as if I could somehow drag him into my very being and consume him.

Or be consumed by him.

He huffs a grunt of irritation as I kiss my way along his neck to the soft juncture under his ear. There is a sharp tug on my hair, and I hiss at the sting as I’m pulled back. The pain is soon forgotten, though, when his mouth finds myneck and he attacks it like a vampire starving for his first meal. Each bite, each lick, the hard suction of his mouth against my inflamed skin throbs within me. There is no way there won’t be a mark when he is done and my knees quiver with the thought.

To be marked by this man, owned by him. His strong hands keep me in place while he practically devours me.

He’s plastered to me, the buttons on his shirt, the buckle of his belt, digging into me. Branding me. It feels incredible. I need more. I need to feel the burn of his skin in my hands. I groan loudly, pulling mindlessly at his shirt tucked into his pants.

“Gods, you are perfect, aren’t you?” Hot, open mouth kisses are slathered against my collarbone between his mutterings as he turns me to putty in his hands. “A gift from the Goddess perhaps? A blessing from the Gods surely. Exquisite.”

I collapse against him, completely uncaring that he shouldn’t be able to bear my weight the way he does. My hands finally find their way under his shirt, burrowing and digging their way under the tight waistband of his pants. I can’t get far, my hands are too thick, but I satisfy the drive in me by digging my fingers into his cheeks, teasing the cleft of his ass, pulling him even closer against my grinding dick.

His lips find mine again, swallowing all the nonsense, whimpering, panting noises tumbling from me. I finally find the sense to dig my hands between us, to fumble with the buckle of his belt.

This is insanity. In the darkest, dullest corners of my mind, I know this is stupidity of the highest order. The greatest and dumbest thing I have ever done in my life, but I’m beyond that now. I can blame it on the full moon later. Since the moment I felt his eyes on me it was inevitable. Fuck him or be fucked, I don’t care, but it feels like I’ll die if I do not have him. Now.

The forest floor is rough and painful under my knees when I wrench myself free from his grasp to drop to the ground. My hands, stupid with lust, refuse to cooperate, trembling as I thread the leather through the first loop to undo the buckle.

His hands are in my hair, stroking, massaging. I make the shocking error of looking up at him. His kiss-swollen lips part with his heavy breaths, and his eye is trained on me, hazy with pure, unadulterated lust. My dick jerks, bouncing where it stands begging for attention between us.

“So good.” I shudder at his whisper of encouragement, the words striking through me like lightning. I’m dangerously close to coming and I haven’t seen his cock.

My hands are steadier now, the weight of his hands in my scalp grounding me, as I undo the metallic buckle and the buttons of his fly. I can feel the hot, hard length of him straining down his thigh brushing against my arm as I grip the edges of his pants to slowly peel them from his body.

“Seff!” Panic floods me, my boner deflating almost comically when the strains of my sister’s call filter through the Woods. Fury flashes in his eyes, his fingers tensing in my hair and then releasing almost instantly as I sit back on my heels. “Seff, you asshole. Where are you? I have your clothes!”

She’s closer now. My eyes ping-pong from his face, to the patch of dark hair I had just uncovered, to the treeline and back again. Something in me breaks, growing colder at the dimmed lust on his face, replaced with a glower. It feels as if I’ve lost something important and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find it again.

But I can hear the faint rustle of the trees as Breanna gets closer, her undeniable tracking abilities living up to their legendary status.

“Fuck, that’s my sister,” I curse as I stand. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I throw a cautious look over my shoulder in the direction I can hear her stomping.

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