Page 46 of Through Battle and Blades (The Wolf Queen 2)

This was a small, subtle thing and my growl made clear I needed so much more.

“Your beast is rising?” he asked, staring up at me along the line of my body. “Your need? Does it claw at you, Darcy? Like a wild animal trying to get free?”

“Yes!” I snapped at Weyland, my fangs lengthening.

“Do you feel its teeth biting into you, chewing a great hole in you that it feels like nothing will fill it? Nothing but me. Because that’s how I feel about you, Darcy. I need you like my next breath. I need your scent, your taste, the feel of your body against mine. I want to feel your tight little cunt—”

Claws formed at the ends of my fingers, and I silenced him when I dug them into his shoulders and then dragged him down on top of me. For a moment, I just held him. Mine, mine, mine, my savage little heart beat.

“Take it,” I rasped. “Take everything you need from me.”

“You’ll regret saying that,” he replied, his voice full of dark promise. But then he shifted in my grip, pulling free enough to refocus his attentions on my breast, circling the nipple with the tip of his tongue and I found I had no regrets at all.

Not when he flicked the aching point and not when his claws pricked the swell of my breast, grasping it right before his mouth sucked the nipple in. I definitely didn’t regret the ungainly groan that escaped my mouth, my breath coming in pants as long, slow suckles sent waves of pleasure through me. As if to up the ante, his hand went to the other, pulling roughly on the other nipple, but that only provoked the fire inside me to burn higher and higher. He switched sides, seeming to wait until one breast was an aching mass of pleasure before bestowing his attentions on the other side. But when he finally pulled away, I was a sweaty mess.

I rolled up as far as I could, raking my hands down his chest and stomach, leaving red trails behind.

“No…” he said, as my hand slid south, cupping around his knot, then giving it a squeeze, licking away the sudden spill of liquid from the crown. “No,” he insisted, “No!”

His alpha bark was a sharp slap, but for some reason I liked the burn. I grinned up at him, feeling like my wolf soul was entirely in charge as we went back for more. His hand went to my hair, grabbing a handful and then holding it tight, forcing me either to rip it out by the roots to get more of him or to listen to him.

“You think I don’t want my cock down your throat? I remember the convulsive little swallows you made as you took my seed like it was yesterday. But I said I wanted my taste and I meant it.”

I was pushed back onto the bed with a whoosh and before I could rally, he picked up my hips, sliding down the bed to suck from what lay between them, like raising a cup to his lips.

“You’re all wet and sweet…” he groaned, then I felt the lightning fast flick of his tongue, there where I needed it, then gone again. “You can’t think to deny me this.”

I had no such thought or any other in my head as he lunged forward. He’d told me that he hungered for me, and now I knew the truth of that. His tongue felt like it mapped the entirety of my nether regions, claiming it and then remaking it anew. Because the pleasure that came from his ministrations was enough to have my claws shredding the sheets, my ragged cries filling the room.

“Weyland… Weyland…!”

“That’s it,” he told me, pulling away for just a second, but only to replace his tongue with his fingers. Two slid inside me, the stretch making me hiss, his thumb rubbing against the little pearl of pleasure Gael had helped me to discover. “Keep calling my name. Do it right as you come all over my face, Darcy. Rake your claws across my scalp, force my face deeper. Give me your pleasure, all of it.”

Apparently, Weyland had some kind of undiscovered prophetic ability because when he bent back to his work, his lips closing over my pearl, that slow suckling motion driving me insane, he conjured a tide inside me, one that was pulling back, back, back with a deadly intensity I couldn’t seem to escape. My claws did scratch across his head and I did jam him tighter against me, knowing that the only way was through this. He pushed his fingers deeper, thrusting them harder, faster, the frantic friction drawing gabbling little sounds from me. But right when it all came to a head, when my heart stuttered and I experienced a moment of pure clarity, I screamed out his name.

I didn’t hear his response because I was lost in mine. A cascade of the most perfect pleasures washed over me, swamping me in their delicious waves until finally I went completely limp.

“That was good,” he purred, “for starters.”

I felt like a broken doll when he collected me up, drawing me up and into his arms, ensuring my thighs straddled his. Those blue eyes bore into mine as he moved me, us, a familiar hardness pressing against my aching core.

“This is it, love,” he said, his voice breaking on the words. “Tell me now if you’re not ready, because once we take this step…”

I shifted then, having to use the arms I’d wrapped around his neck to move myself as I slid down his cock.

“Oh fuck, Darcy…” he hissed. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

But I couldn’t stop and I never would, I felt as we held each other tight, then began to move. Together, it worked out, him thrusting up into me, my hips slamming down on his. Because every time we were joined fully, a burst of the headiest sweetness flushed through our bodies, our hearts, but we could only re-experience that each time we pulled away again. But the strokes got shorter, faster, deeper until Weyland groaned.

“Gods, you’re opening up for me…”

I didn’t know what that meant and couldn’t ask, my pants coming just as fast as our thrusts. But I did feel that hard nudge at the end of every down stroke. Something that promised so much more, if I could just manage to take him. Because the first time Gael had rutted me, the stretch was a painful one, but ever since then? My body had become conditioned to associate this feeling with so much pleasure. I was opening up for him, letting him in body and soul, and that required a stretch from the both of us. We had to make space for each other and keep that place open, even when every instinct told us to keep ourselves locked down. So as I worked my hips down over and over, as his hands wrapped around my waist, preventing me from getting too far away, as I felt an ache deep inside me build, something only he could assuage, our lips met for short little biting kisses until he jerked away.

“Darcy! Darcy, you’re going to take my….”

His knot, that’s what he was going to say, because deep down, that’s what we both needed. At first the stretch came and kept on coming, my heart rate speeding up as it felt like I stood upon the lip of a cliff. I stared into his wide open eyes, a mirror of my own as I was forced to work him in deeper.

“Darcy… Darcy…”

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