Page 73 of A Wolf of War
Willow flushed and turned her face into the pillow, but her body betrayed her, arching slightly toward him. Milo filed that reaction away for later; they would certainly be discussing limits soon. For now, he leaned back down, bracing himself on either side of her, skin hot against hers now.
The air between them thickened, charged, and Milo could feel it—how the world narrowed to this moment, to her, to the bond tightening invisibly around them with every beat of their hearts.
And then her hand found him, reaching between them so that she could stroke his pulsing length. Milo’s breath hitched and he groaned, hips jerking into her touch. Willow’s eyes were full of wonder…
Until her hand bumped into his swollen knot.
“Oh—” she started, eyebrows shooting up, “Oh, wow?”
“That’s my knot, baby,” he panted, trying his hardest not to spill himself prematurely. She wasn’t making it easy for him; her hand wandering with shameless curiosity, brushing over the firm swell of his knot that would bind her to him in ways she couldn’t yet comprehend. That single touch carried the weight of what came after, of what it would mean once he finally claimed her.
But not this time.
She wouldn’t be able to handle it yet.
He felt her hesitation and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. I would never knot you without your consent. You aren’t ready for that.”
That soothed the frightened doe inside her, loosening the tension in her body. Willow let her forehead press against his, their breath shivering between them. With trembling focus, she guided him to her slick, desperate entrance—hips rising instinctively, a small, broken sound slipping out.
His hips pushed forward, and Milo sheathed his throbbing cock in one, slow thrust. Their cries tangled in the air, a single sound born of shared surrender. Both of them shifted, bodies straining to match the rhythm of this new reality they’d built between them. For a breathless moment, nothing else existed—just their world, steeped in heat and bound by a pleasure that felt eternal.
“Oh, God, Willow,” he breathed, the words hot against her hair as he buried his face into the crown of her head. Now that he was fully inside her, every muscle in his body trembled with restraint. He cursed the height that kept him from seeing her face; he ached to watch her unravel, to see her eyes glaze and cross when the pleasure became too much.
“Oh, oh,” she whimpered, sounding like a wounded animal, “Oh, Milo, you’re too big.”
“Hush, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’re going to adjust. I’ll teach you how to take my cock.”
With that, he began to move—slow, deliberate, no more than a whisper of motion inside her. And yet, it was still enough to break her wide open. Willow’s cry tore through the room, a raw, piercing sound that rattled his bones and set every instinct in him ablaze.
“God, I just want to fucking pump you full of my cum, watch it drip out of that pretty pussy,” he was growling desperately into the air, hips rolling in a smooth rhythm. He wasn’t thrusting, no, just moving around. Milo wasn’t convinced she could handle anything more than this.
Even so, this slow lovemaking was unraveling him, bit by fragile bit. Everything in his body screamed with the effort of restraint, his control stretched to breaking. Milo swore he’d spill himself each time her breath caught on a moan, or when it hitched sharp and sweet the moment he found that tender spot inside her.
And then, he felt it.
Milo felt hercome for him.
Willow writhed beneath him, her cries raw and feral, a wild sound that rattled the bars of the beast caged inside him. Each sweet noise that burst from her threatened to let it free, to drag him past the fragile line between control and surrender.
A roar tore from his chest as the raw, electricneed surged through him, drowning out reason. His rhythm faltered into something reckless, ragged—each thrust harder, faster, the heavy press of his knot battering against her entrance. Instinct screamed at him to give in, to claim her fully, to lock her to him in a physical bond she couldn’t sever. It took every shred of discipline not to surrender to that pull, not to force that intensive intimacy on her.
Instead, Milo surrendered, letting himself crash over the edge. Release tore through him in violent waves, his hips grinding desperately into hers as hot spurts of cum spilled into her cunt. Each frantic thrust was met with her voice—his name spilling from her lips again and again, a broken plea, a tether keeping them both from being swept completely away.
After, the room was heavy with silence, broken only by the ragged sound of their breathing, lungs straining to catch up after the marathon they’d just endured. Milo remained braced above her, his forehead pressed to hers, sweat dripping from his temple onto her cheek. She didn’t flinch—just let it mingle there, as if proof of what they’d done should stay marked on her skin.
After a long stretch of quiet, he shifted downand pulled her into his chest, strong arms wrapping around her as though the act of letting her go for even a moment was unthinkable. Willow melted into him without hesitation, their tangled bodies humming with the aftershock of what they had just shared.
Her voice was a whisper against his collarbone. “I’m sorry I pushed you into the pool.”
Milo chuckled low in his chest, the sound reverberating through her, and tilted her chin up with his knuckle. His eyes were softened by affection, fixed wholly on her beautiful face. “Don’t be. That’s what I admire most about you, Willow. You don’t back down just because of who I am. You’re so gentle, sweetheart, but you’ve got a spine. That’s why you’re perfect for me.”
Her breath caught, eyes searching his.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there. “Your place—” he murmured against her skin, “—is to right me when I’m wrong. To rule beside me. You’re not just some random woman I took, Willow. You’re destined by fate to be my queen.”
Willow didn’t respond. Instead, she just curled in closer to him, sighing contentedly. He waited until her breathing was even before drifting off as well, his knot still rock-hard and throbbing for release.
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