Page 55 of Fated to the Wolf Billionaire

“Oh, God, yes.”

I grinned like a wolf alone in the sheep’s pasture as I slowly freed her legs from their denim confinement, taking her panties with them in one smooth motion.

Every part of her was smooth, shapely curves. I hadn’t let myself spend much time enjoying her shape before now. It was important to me to be a gentleman, to take things slow so she knew I valued her as a person as much as I valued her beautiful body.

But now, I was a beast unchained, free to admire her softness, her perfection. I cupped her calves, spreading her legs wide, baring her glistening pussy for my perusal.

She was wet, swollen perfection, perfectly rosy and needy for my tongue, my fingers. I ran my hands up her inner thighs, holding her wide as I swept in.

With the first press of my lips to pussy, she cried out, grinding up against my face with her urgency. I licked and sucked, feasting on her like I was a man starved, until she was rocking against me, fingers tangled in my hair as she begged for more. Her scent was stronger at her core, drenching the room with water lilies and amber, sweet apricots blooming in spring. I wanted to bathe in it so everyone knew she was mine and I was hers.

“Please, please, please, Reed, I need more, I need—” Her words cut off on a keening cry as I thrust in two fingers, curving them upward as I moved, sucking her clit between my teeth. Lightly, I held it as I teased with my tongue.

When she came, it was the most magnificent thing I’d ever seen, ever felt. She arched beneath me, squeezing my shoulders with her legs as she moaned low and long, her body dissolving into satisfied shudders as I kept working her, wanting to wring every ounce of pleasure out of her before I took my own.

She was clamping rhythmically around my fingers, arching against me as I worked toward drawing a second release from her, when her skin started to blush blue. I didn’t stop, unconcerned if she let out her wilder side.

But a moment later, when the plane lurched roughly, she froze, looking up at me with panicked amber eyes instead of pleasured bicolored ones.

“Reed? What’s happening?” Her breaths were still coming rapidly, her chest heaving with the blue flush.

The plane jolted again, and the pilot’s voice came over the sound system.

“We seem to have hit a freak storm. Fasten your seat belts, and if it doesn’t ease up, we’ll find a place to set down.”

That was the pilot, Rich, always concise, even in a potential crisis.

“Oh my God, Reed, I think it’s me.” I eased back from Fiona, whose panic had turned her sweet, abundant scent sour. She fanned her face, as if cooling off would make it stop. “I’m going to make us crash! Oh my God. I don’t know how to pull it back in. I can’t calm down. Fucking shit!”

“Fiona!” I put a little bit of alpha bark on her name, and she finally looked up, meeting my eyes. “You’re not going to crash this plane. Rich is a world-class pilot, and we’re going to be perfectly fine. But panicking about calling a storm isn’t going to make it any easier to control your powers. Deep breaths. Hold my hands,” I ordered, kneeling in front of her on the bed. She rose up on her knees, pressing her palms to mine and lacing our fingers together like she’d been doing it her whole life.

I took a slow, deep breath, and she mirrored it, eyes pinned to mine as if I was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“That’s it, Stormy girl. You’re in charge. Now concentrate and calmly pull the power back into yourself. We don’t need a hurricane today.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Fiona

Ifocused on his words, his steadiness, as I closed my eyes. I didn’t know enough about this power to know what it looked like, or what it felt like, even. My heart was still racing, but he was still talking softly, barely more than crooning, and that helped. Some lizard part of my brain felt like nothing bad could happen to me while Reed was there, whispering softly and holding me tight.

He was safety for me—now I just had to figure out how to be safe for him.

For starters, by not crashing his really expensive jet by causing an insane storm. Not killing us all was such a low bar, damn.

Focus, Fiona.

I blew out a breath, letting my lips go loose like this was a cushy, heated yoga class with soft music and not a life-or-death situation. And then I did exactly what he said and looked inward. At first, there was nothing but the blackness of the back of my eyelids, the soft static of nothing, of absence.

But after a few moments, I began to sense more. Lashing tendrils of power, streaming from my fingertips, my chest, my lips—feeding the weather outside. Connecting me, as if the storm itself was a living, raging thing.

My eyes popped open, and I scrambled backward, reaching for the nearest window shade and jerking it open. There it was, the storm I saw in my mind’s eye, all black clouds and sparking potential.

“I’m feeding it, but I don’t know how to stop.”

“When I was young and learning to shift between wolf and man, my dad taught me to visualize myself in the other form. I know this is slightly more complex since you haven’t actually seen your other form, but you know what you normally look like. Can you visualize yourself fully human on a clear, sunny day?”

I rolled the suggestion around in my head, then shrugged. “It can’t hurt. I don’t know what else to try.”

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