Page 44 of Getting Down on the Farm: Vol. 1
And suddenly, the knot was lovely, rubbing at the tenderest spot inside of me.
He grinned as my breath hitched.
"What's your name?" I asked, strangely shy at the sight of him. His hair was nicer than mine, softer, and I couldn't stop running my fingers down the back of his sloping neck to his broad shoulders.
"Bud Jones."
"Bud?" I asked, nose wrinkling.
He grinned, flashing me more teeth and a glimpse of the dark pinkish-red tongue that had grown intimate with my very personal places. "You're stuck, berry," he reminded me.
"I know, I know. ‘Bud’ is fine." Better than just calling him “bastard” or “asshole” all the time, although he'd probably earn those too often enough.
"No," he said, and he had longer white hairs above his eyes that bounced like eyebrows. He tried to pull out and I yelped at the hard, pinching tug inside of me. "You'restuck."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I muttered, but I was grinning too, and wrapping my legs around hisverywide waist, wow, that was…that was…nice. I really was tiny underneath him, stretched by the press of him between my legs, my inner thighs aching. And I had to arch my neck and he had to tilt his down for us to look at each other, but I'd take all the strain I had to keep this moment.
"Can't help it," he said, shrugging one huge shoulder. "I like you like this."
"Yeah, well, I like being able toseeyou," I said.
He purred or growled and his head ducked, and kissing was strange with that mouth, but his lips were soft and they folded mine neatly between them. He started rocking, and there was no friction, only perfect pressure. I opened my mouth to gasp and his tongue took the invitation, twisting in and twining around mine.
His breath was minty, a pleasant surprise and probably an improvement over mine, but his tongue obviously didn't care. It was long and thick and at a certain point I remembered that it reminded me of a second cock, so I sucked on it.
Bud, my mate, my werewolf, shook all over in response and started to pant, bucking urgently. And when I kept sucking and I moved my hands up from his shoulders to scratch at the back of his neck and behind his massive ears, he made sweet whining sounds into my mouth.
I pulled away for air and he crouched tighter, forcing my back to bow and gaining access to my throat and shoulder, which he lapped at. His knot lodged deeper and I clutched him tight, squeezing his massive frame with arms and legs as much as I was able.
"Gonna bite you, berry. Bout damn time too," he rasped.
"Bite?"
He grunted and his knot was making me see stars and he was so soft and so heavy and sominethat the word didn't register. When it did, with his sharp teeth bracing around my shoulder, I was too deep, drowning in the pounding waves of the knot pressing inside of me, to care about something I absolutely would've objected to minutes ago.
"Mate." He growled the word around my shoulder.
"Yours. Mate," I answered.
His jaw tightened at the exact moment the pleasure claimed me. It was good I hadn't had a chance to protest, because the bite didn't hurt at all, or the pain added an edge to the orgasm. And he was gentle, breaking skin enough to make his mark on me, and then retreating, tongue quickly claiming the taste of me.
"Valerie," he gasped, and then he joined me in oblivion, arms clamping me to his chest, tongue stroking his mark, the pair of us lost together.
