Page 43 of Claimed By the Feral Wolves

“Ma-Maverick,” she moans my name, and my erection swells.

“That’s right, baby, say my name. I like to hear you say my name.”

My mate is feeling pleasure. She’s thinking of me while I touch her. I must be in heaven.

I touch her faster, adding more pressure, working her clit as she bucks and thrusts on top of me. She says my name again, and I don’t even know I’m going to come until I start coming, exploding in my boxers as she reaches her orgasm, murmuring my name as she rides my fingers.

She collapses back against me, panting, and I keep touching her, because I never want to stop. This is my mate. Making her feel good is my responsibility, and it’s one I relish.

Her head swivels towards me. “Why did we do that?”

I smile, feeling like I’m on cloud nine. “Because we’re mates. This thing between us can’t be ignored.”

She opens her mouth to say something more, when my lips descend onto hers. She’s so soft, and so fucking sweet. When her lips part again, my tongue darts inside, claiming her mouth for my own. She whimpers and clings to me, lost in our kiss, just as I am.

Time passes, I have no idea how much, but we continue kissing on the boat, floating on the water, while I touch her and taste her sweet lips. At last, she breaks our kiss, and I stare down at her with pleasure. Her skin is flushed, and her lips are swollen.

She moves my hand out from under her skirt, and I reluctantly pull them out, then lick my fingers clean while she stares on in shock. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to taste you. All of you,” I tell her.

She shudders in my lap.

I gather her up closer and kiss her shoulder, then her neck. “You, my mate, are perfect.”

“I’m not your mate,” she says, her words like knives to my heart. “This… it can’t change anything between us.”

Unable to help myself, I reach under her skirt once more. “We’ll see.”

17

Faye

As soon asthe door to my room closes behind me, I turn and press my head to the door. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My entire body is shaking with the euphoria of what just happened. It feels like when my brother and I were kids, and we would climb back to the shore after leaping from a cliff into the water. Exhilarating, then total, complete body exhaustion. Like our nervous systems were still trying to adjust to the fact that we were capable of jumping from a cliff’s edge.

Just the thought of Maverick’s large, rough hand under my skirt makes me flush again, my core tightening. My experience with Cayson and Ezra was incredible, but this was something new, something I can’t even compare with that experience. It’s like trying to decide if ice cream or cookies are better, when we all know that they’re both necessary to life. Being with these men… it’s like I’m discovering new nerve endings that weren’t there before.

“Faye,” someone says, and I let out a little shriek, jumping around and clapping a hand to my mouth.

Cayson is sprawled out on my bed, his feet propped up on the foot board, tossing a ball into the air and catching it. Ezra is sitting in the armchair calmly, but his fingers are tapping at the worn edge. His head cocks when he sees me, and I try to control my breathing.

“You scared me,” I whisper, taking a step closer to them and trying to calm my breathing.

How did I not notice they were there?

“How was your fishing trip with the feral?” Ezra asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

I clear my throat, embarrassed, sure they can smell the answer to that question, and I have no idea how I’m going to explain the crazy thing I did, especially when I don’t even understand it myself. Turning, I grab a glass from the counter and quickly fill it with water, wanting some sort of distraction from the question.

“We have to talk,” Ezra says, his voice very matter-of-fact.

“I know,” I tell him softly.

But what can I say exactly? The whole thing is terribly embarrassing. I got caught up in a feeling. In a moment. It doesn’t mean more than that.Does it?

“Faye,” Cayson says, and when I turn around again, he’s sitting up on the edge of the bed, his expression earnest, searching. “Do you think those ferals are your mates? Like they claimed? Do you feel the mating bond with them?”

I raise the glass, pressing the cool side to my cheek. My entire body feels like it's on fire, and remembering Maverick’s eyes, the way he stared up at me as I rode his hand in the boat, doesn’t help. Do I think they’re my mates?I don’t want mates, so does it matter?

---