Page 61 of The Howling
Is it my imagination or is it bigger than before? I don’t have time to think much about it as Reavely withdraws and thrusts back inside me again. My body reacts in a way I didn’t believe was possible, every part of me pulsating, moisture dripping from me, my channel widening so his knot slips in, pressing against my g-spot and instantly sending me into the paroxysms of an orgasm. I cling tight, moaning I want more, more, more, and he’s going to give it to me.
His knot is not yet bound. Instead he swirls his hips, making sure I feel every inch of him, every part of him, before he pulls it free and, in another almighty thrust, tips my first climax into my second. Reavely growls my name as I clamp down hard on him, my hands curled in his fur as my beast plunders me.
I cannot let go of Reavely, not now, not ever, and as our climaxes hit, I feel a huge swelling inside me as he groans out my name, before burying his head in the crook of my neck, his murmurs, his rasps, and his pants over my bite all sending more spikes of pleasure through me with every one. Hot cum fills me with every movement of our joined hips until he has to be spent and I have to be full.
“My Wynter, my little deer, I am yours until the end of time.”
REAVELY
Ithought I’d mated before. I thought I’d knotted before, but what I’ve done with Wynter in the past is nothing, nothing compared to what it’s like to fill her after my claiming bite. I had no control, not over my prick, not over my body, my shift going wild as everything exploded, and it felt like I was being turned inside out.
We are locked together, and I can’t think of a better place to be than between her legs, buried in her with the knowledge this coupling will produce pups.
The thought of her growing ripe and round, her belly swelling as she gestates, her tits becoming heavy with milk, all the mating we can have whilst she is growing our young…it’s enough to force out a few more drops of my seed when I was sure I was empty.
In my arms, Wynter moans, her head dropped back on the moss, her neck exposed to me and the soft, pale scars of her healed bite calling to me. I can’t help myself but lick over her once again, even if it does make her clench my knot so hard I think it might burst.
How can a Barghest be so lucky as to have a mate like her?
“Exactly how long are we going to be like this?” she murmurs, her eyelids fluttering open.
“Until my body releases you,” I growl.
“When?”
“I hope never.”
Wynter releases a soft laugh. “Never?”
“Never.”
Her eyes close, a smile on her face which I have to hope I put there. My sweet mate always looks stunning, but right now, under me, knotted by me, two pink spots on her cheeks and a leaf in her hair from the trees which surround us…
“You are the most beautiful creature in the Yeavering. Why would I ever want to be parted from you?” I snuffle into her hair, luxuriating in her scent.
Wynter wriggles against my knot and I release an involuntary groan. “If you continue, bad little mate, I will have no option but to fill you up again,” I growl against her skin.
She doesn’t say anything, but the wickedest smile I’ve ever seen crosses her face.
My mate wants to be bad, and she’s picked the right Barghest for badness.
“Is that a promise?” she says.
“It is not,” I respond, watching with interest as confusion clouds her eyes. “It is my bond, with you, my deer. To always mate you and keep you filled.”
“And my heat?”
“It is your heat which makes you want to be filled over and over. Once it breaks, you will be in pup.”
She shifts against my knot again.
“How long?” she whispers, hands pulling at my body.
“For me, I hope forever. For you, five days.”
As I speak, somewhere a long way away, but not far enough, there is a long, low wail.
Wynter’s eyes are huge in her head. “What was that?”
