Page 63 of Rejected Wolf's Secret Baby (Rejected Moons 4)

I am. I feel slutty and debauched and glorious, and he needs to get inside me right now or I’m going to lose my mind, but I’m not going to take my fingers out of my mouth to tell him that or he’s going to stop, and if he stops I might actually die—

And then, finally, fuckingfinally, he fucks into me, and everything goes blurry.

The only thing I’m really aware of is the pleasure radiating from the core of my body. My limbs are shaking, and after a minute I realize I’m screaming. My throat is hoarse and I don’t care.

I suckle hard at my fingers and bite down on them. I rock myself back and forth on his cock, meeting his thrusts, my ass slapping into his hips with each one.

His big hands wrap around my thighs. Two fingers find my clit and go to work, taking me even higher.

Tears of pleasure stream down my face. I’ve never felt this good in all my life. I come and come on his cock, my walls squeezing around him, and it’s so much better because it’sBrandon.

I feel a sharp drag against my hip and something damp on my skin, and I don’t need to look down to know that it’s the claws of the wolf. They’re the first thing to emerge when we shift—claws and eyes and teeth. The man behind me is no longer fully human. I’ve driven him so wild that the wolf can no longer be contained.

And when he comes, the howl that echoes through the house is pure animal.

He pumps into me hard, and then the two of us fall to the ground. Brandon catches me in his arms and presses his face to the back of my neck, and we breathe together as we slowly come down from our shared high.

37

BRANDON

Iwrapmyarmstightly around her and press my lips to her bare shoulder. “This is the part where you always leave,” I say.

“I don’t want to go,” she says.

“Then don’t.” She hasn’t made any move to get up yet, hasn’t pulled free of my arms, and I hate the fact that I’m even talking about leaving. I hate that we’re even thinking about it. I want it to be a given that she’ll stay here as long as I want her to. I want her to want that.

If she accepts me as her mate, it will be like that.

Wouldshe accept me? I have to think she would—but if she did, would she only be doing it to give me a crack at becoming alpha? That’s what really worries me. I don’t want to be alpha that way, and I certainly don’t want to be mated to Alicia that way. I want her to choose me because she wants me. A real mate bond, not a fake one for politics.

“I have to go,” she says, but she doesn’t pull away. Not yet. Instead, she snuggles in closer, letting me breathe in her scent. Just being with her is intoxicating. I don’t have the refractory period I had as a teenager, but I can already feel my cock twitching again, and I think I could get hard for her.

It’s like I said. I’m never, ever going to get enough of her. And if she leaves me now, it’s gonna kill me.

And then, as always, she pulls away.

“I have to go,” she says. “The baby.”

“Your sister’s babysitting, Alicia,” I say. “I know it’s hard for you to leave her, but you can trust Kayla with her, can’t you?”

“Of course I trust Kay. More than anyone in the world.”

“Well, so what’s the problem? Let her take care of Emmy for one night. Stay with me. Please.”

“I really wish I could.”

“If it’s too hard for you to be away, you could bring Emmy here,” I suggest. “I don’t mind. You can set up that little cot of hers in my bedroom, and you and I could crash in the living room. That way you’d always be able to go check on her. Make sure she was all right. Would that make it easier?”

Alicia sighs. “You don’t understand.”

She’s right. I don’t. I know she has a child now, and I know that complicates things, but does it really need to bethiscomplicated? Women with children still live lives. They still find mates, or occasionally just boyfriends. Alicia acts as if she’s being irresponsible every time she and I are together, and I just don’t think that’s true.

Alicia’s already hunting for her clothes. I sigh as she pulls her shorts on and sits up. This is my least favorite part—watching her cover herself up again, not knowing how long it’s going to be until I get to see her naked again. I live for those moments at this point.

She pulls her shirt over her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says.

“But will you really?” I ask her. “I’m not going to come over and have you act like there’s nothing between us?”

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