Page 24 of The Wolf's Bullied Pregnant Mate
She’s your enemy, I told myself, even as I deepened the kiss.
You should kill her, not want her.
And yet I didn’t pull away—couldn’tpull away. I realized no force in the world would stop me from pursuing her until she told me to. My eyes squeezed closed, and my whole body tensed.God, I wanted her. Her hands remained at her sides, but I wanted them on me.
“You can touch me,” I murmured between kisses. I pulled back, gazing down at her. “Or can you not bear the thought of wanting to?”
“I can bear it just as much as you can, shifter,” she told me. And the way she said it—shifter—like it was a filthy word, as filthy as I madewitchsound had my hand wrapping around her throat lightly.
Her eyes fluttered.
“Careful, Adalyn,” I warned. She swallowed, and the movement of her throat rippled against my hand. Her eyes flickered to mine, looking up the line of my left arm, blacked out with ink. A blush rose to her pale cheeks. I flexed my fingers on her neck. “Well? No more words?”
“You disgust me,” she told me, and I wasn’t sure if she was goading me again or telling the truth. Perhaps both.
I smiled at her, tipping my head. The scent of her arousal flooded the air, and I laughed, imagining her hating how her body responded to me. “How about I find out how true that is?”
“What—”
“Spread your legs,” I told her, cutting her off.
“Zeph—”
“Is it a no?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you want to stop?”
I saw her own war with herself before she murmured, “No.”
I pushed her back onto the bed, leaning over her. “Then. Spread. Your. Legs.”
She let out a whimper as she parted her thighs. I looked down at Adalyn, raising a brow. Her eyes met mine. Her dark hair spilled over the pillow, falling in waves that I thought weredelicate. Delicate. I almost scoffed. Nothing about her was delicate—she could pretend she was, but I saw what she buried underneath. A rougher side to the witch. Someone that I wanted tosnapif just so I had a reason to retaliate.
I let myself fall so I could brace myself over her.
My eyes met hers.
“Scared, shifter?” she asked.
“Never,” I growled and then grabbed her thighs in my hands and shoved them apart, settling between them. The skirt of her dress fell back to her hips, the hem brushing almost to where the material cut-outs exposed her waist, and I smoothed my hand over her thighs, laughing at the twitch of muscle beneath my touch.
“Eager?” I drawled.
“No,” she answered through gritted teeth.
“Unfortunate.” And then I pressed my mouth to her panties, right where there was a patch of arousal that pulled me to her. Adalyn moaned softly as my tongue delved up the center of her folds through the thin, black lace. Her hands came to slide over my head, fingers grazing the shaved sides of my head. She pushed back the hair that fell over my forehead, and when I looked up from my teasing, her eyelids were heavy.
“Tell me how much I disgust you,” I told her. “And let me watch what it does to you right here.” I kept my eyes on her as I pressed a finger to where I wanted to enter her when I finally tore the flimsy material away. As much as I wanted to unleash my instincts on her, I wanted her to admit she wanted me. I wanted to hear it. I wanted her begging for my cock.
I wanted her begging for her enemy before the night was through.
“Don’t,” she whimpered. I smirked at her, lightly brushing her heat, still not letting her feel skin contact yet. “Don’t make me humiliate myself.”
“Oh, you’d find that humiliating?” I feigned ignorance, my tone teasing, mocking. “Why, Adalyn?”
I lay my tongue flat against her panties, knowing that the way the material was lace and let her have the briefest sensations of my tongue against her skin through the gaps of lace, would be torture.
