Page 15 of Claimed By the Werewolf Boss
Stain me, mark me, claim me.
Whatever Cheyenne wants or needs, I’ll give it to her as long as she lets me keep worshipping her pussy. The taste of her cum on my tongue has ruined my appetite for anything else tonight. Maybe one more glass of the red so she can finish dinner. My teeth are sharp, the hair on my body has grown coarser, but I don’t care that I’m on the verge of shifting.
Or coming in my trousers.
Maybe this is the perfect place to wolf out. Nobody will bother us. It’s only me and Cheyenne. Then I can fuck my knot deep inside her like I’ve wanted to for hours.
“Fuck me if you want me to scream.” Her voice is so sure, almost demanding, from her relaxed position on the table. “I’ve got an implant, no STDs, and my last hookup was over six months ago, so I’m good to go.”
I look up at my girl, and a monstrous grin forms on my lips.
“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
She licks her lips as the flush on her cheeks travels to her ears. Oh, she liked that. I slide out from between her legs and move to stand. I’m taller than I was when I first knelt, but she doesn’t notice. Her fingers tremble as she grips my shirt and pulls me towards her. I’ll gladly go wherever she leads me.
She licks into my mouth with a little moan. I balance one hand on the table, bones cracking as my claws scrape against the wood. With the other, I squeeze the base of Cheyenne’s throat around the pulse points. It’s thrumming, her heart pounding a beautiful song just for me.
“What do you like?” she asks as she pulls back. Her lips brush against mine with each breath we share.
“Domination,” I growl. “I like to be in control in a relationship. I want my partner to turn to me for choices because I thrive when I’m taking care of them.”
She makes a little noise, nodding along with my words. “Do you have a title?”
“I don’t need one, but I’m open to talking about it later.”
“Later?”
“Yeah, baby, right now I want to talk about my other kink.” I slide my hand down to her tit again. Her nipples are softer now, but no less enticing. Fuck, her breasts are heavy and so perfect. I want to lie on these pillows every night after I’m done fucking my cum into her. “The one where I breed your perfect pussy.”
“Oh—” She hesitates, leaning away from me. Her hackles rise at the idea, and I don’t want that.
“What’s that stupid meme?” I groan, trying to bring her back to me. “Marcello sent it to me a while ago with the girl getting her head patted.”
“Only breed, no pregnant,” Cheyenne giggles, her shoulders relaxing as quickly as they tensed up. “So some serious cum play with themed dirty talk?”
“Yeah, kids aren’t something I want, but my mouth can get a mind of its own sometimes.” Like when I transform and my brain moves to my knot. It’s all I can think about, fucking my mate full until she’s got my pup inside her belly.
“I’ve never looked into it,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe I should write this down.”
“Why?” I ask.
“It sounds like it would be great for a book.” She shrugs. “One of my characters would probably be into it.”
“One of your characters?” I’m still holding her breast, but it feels like we’ve moved away from sex now. I move my hold to her waist. This time she doesn’t flinch or stiffen when I caress her.
“I—” She snaps her mouth shut as if I’m some kind of cop. I really don’t fucking like that. She can tell me anything, big or small, without judgement.
“Whatever it is, Cheyenne, you can tell me.” I try to coax it out of her.
She eyes me for a moment and then her shoulders sag like she’s resigned to tell me. I will find out her secrets one way or another, but seeing her defeated reaction pulls at my heartstrings.
“Sorry, I thought you knew. I’m a romance author. It’s just a side hustle, but I struggle to turn off that side of me,” she confesses softly. “Junelle said you read one of my books today.”
My ears perk up, and momentarily I worry they actually popped out. I deal with a lot of self-important rich fucks and corrupt politicians who want their dirty secrets to stay quiet. Nobody’s fame, real or otherwise,has ever interested me. I’ve also never cared or thought about what it would be like to meet a celebrity.
But my heart does a giddy little stutter when I realise Remi Roman is Cheyenne. A best-selling author. An author who has been on lists before based on the titles above her name on covers.
And she’s demeaning those accomplishments to a side hustle.
