Page 91 of Feral

“Yes, I do.”

He stared up at me, and I dared to believe that what was shining back at me was love, true and unabashed. This all may go away in a few days, it may just be the needs of our mating bite, and I may be left hollowed out by the loss of him. But right now I was going to grab a hold of what he was giving me and not look back. Future pain be damned.

I was shaking by the time his tongue grazed the underside of my breast.

“Mine,” he repeated and took my stiff nipple into his mouth.

My fingers threaded through the fur on his head, holding him there as he bit and sucked.

“Yes, Fraser,” I breathed, “I am yours.”

My words ended on a cry as his biting edged on the most exquisite pain, winding my pleasure into tight spirals under my skin. When his mouth left my breast, the imprint of his teeth stayed on my body. Another mark, another sign that I was his.

“So responsive, so perfect,” he ran the claw of his index finger over the marks of his teeth.

“Do the other one.”

His gaze snapped to mine.

“Leave your mark all over my body,” I whispered.

Just like you’ve left it all over my heart.

I’d always laughed at the word “smolder” to describe someone’s gaze, but that was just because I had never seen it in real life. The instant the words left my mouth, a spark lit in Fraser’s eyes and I saw it, his gaze smoldering so hot that I was shocked I didn’t catch fire right there.

But then his mouth latched onto my other breast while his hand tightened ever so slightly on my throat and I couldn’t think of anything other than the pinch of his claws as they bit into my neck, the pressure of his teeth as he worked my nipple between them. He was owning me, and I couldn’t find a reason to care that it was against everything I was taught was proper to desire. I meant what I said, I wanted his teeth marks all over me, the red of his claws, the smell of his cum and fur. I wanted him to make a mess of me, to ruin me for anyone else and leave me panting for more.

I wasn’t aware of his hand traveling down my body until the cool scrape of his claw grazed my hip. I gasped and looked down. The sight of this huge Werewolf, tail undulating, fur rippling as his teeth drew a line of heat from my breast down to the top of my delicate thong. It was then I saw that his claw was hooked into the lace of it at my hip. His other hand left my throat and soon he had two claws at either hip. Gone was the careful, cautious Fraser MacDonald I’d known. In his place was indeed a beast; a hungry, savage one that had me at his mercy.

Holding my gaze, his claws cut the lace of my thong and his teeth went to the top and slowly, inch by torturous inch, Fraser drew it down until he looked up at me with it in his mouth.

He grinned at me, triumphant and dropped it at my feet.

“Such beautiful skin,” his tongue flicked out, rough and playful just above my mons. “I want to taste all of ya. Here,” he licked my stomach, “here,” the outside of my hip, “here,” the inside of my thigh now with a delicious scrape of his sharp teeth.

Tremors licked through my body, hot and overwhelming, as his hands followed the trail of his teeth and tongue. I was lost on a sea of sensation. Soft and rough, claws and teeth but never where I desperately needed him. Time and again, he teased me with the hot breath of his mouth and I ground my hips toward him, only to have him chuckle and bite my thigh instead.

“Please, Fraser,” I begged, my voice a sob as he once again denied me the contact I needed.

“Mmmm, aye. Ya want me to lick you there, don’t ya?” he ran one knuckle between my folds, dragging an obscene groan from me.

“Yes.”

A trickle of moisture slowly dripped down my thigh and I blushed. I’d never been so wet in my life, especially not from one brush of someone’s finger through me.

He captured the wetness on his tongue, working my flesh where it had dripped, sucking the very last bit of it from my skin as if it were ambrosia.

“So good. I’m going to lap up every drop of you, and then make you give me more.”

With one swift motion, Fraser scooped me up and dropped me on the bed. I braced for his body to stretch out over me but he didn’t. He stalked around the bed, snarling and staring at me. I was his prey, caught in the trap he’d woven with his hands and teeth, invisible bonds of need that held me to the bed as he walked around it.

“Open your legs,” he commanded.

My breath stuttered out of my parted lips as I did what he asked.

“Put yer hands over yer head and hold onto the headboard. Do not let go.”

I was hypnotized by the growling power of his voice. He was a predator that changed my life irreparably, and instead of trembling with fear, I was breathless with anticipation.

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