Page 29 of Wulver's Flame
It was smooth, soft, yet hard. I licked it, and his essence burst into a sweet nectar—far superior to honey.
“That’s my goodÚlfa. Taste it. Suck it. Take from me.”
I pushed down, my lips slid down, and I swirled my tongue around the nectar. Licking, sucking, poking at the hole, desperate for more.
Sköll continued to growl, but the sound only added to the mess between my legs.
“My greedyÚlfa.Do you want more?”
With his staff in my mouth, I nodded.
He took my head between his hands. His staff hit the back of my throat. I moaned when another spurt of nectar flooded me. He pulled back, and panic gripped me. I clawed at his thighs in desperation. But I needn’t have feared. He slammed back in, lodging deep in my throat, flooding me again with that sweet, ruinous nectar.
“This is what it means to be mine,” he snarled.
Before I could adjust, he began to swing his hips back and forth. With each stroke, he managed to go into my throat until I gagged and choked. Tears ran down my cheeks, but I kept my jaw wide open for the continuous taste of his nectar.
“By Fenrir’s teeth. You're almost there,” he groaned.
I didn't know what he meant until his swollen knot slapped my lips and face. I squeezed my tongue out and licked it. He rewarded me with another swift, deep thrust.
Another low groan mixed with a growl.
“Time to breed youÚlfa mìn.”
My stomach clenched, and I widened my knees on the bed.
Unconsciously, I spread myself for him.
He needed to take the pain away—the constant thrum of the ache.
Chapter 13
Vargr
The rut stories weren’t exaggerated. My control hung by a thread, frayed and ready to snap.
Then she moved.
Inside her nest, she spread her thighs wide, presenting herself, ready to be mounted.
Sköll went still. Silent. Brimming with need.
Only one word thundered through me—BREED.
I couldn’t tell if it came from him or me. It didn’t matter.
I crouched and lifted Liùsaidh’s chin, peering into her heat-glazed eyes. Her pupils were blown wide. Lips parted. Mind melted.
She drank from my cock as if she’d found the elixir of life. I smeared the spit and slick across her face. She smiled, delirious, and nuzzled into my palm like she belonged there.
“Turn around. Give me that hot aching cunt,” I growled, my voice a promise soaked in hunger.
Ours, Sköll whispered—his words curling through me like fire on snow.
Then louder, brutal, undeniable—MOUNT.
She obeyed, small hands pressed into the furs, hips high, cunt glistening.
