Chapter 6
WEST
I don’t remember deciding to kiss her. One moment she’s standing there blue eyes bright, mouth taunting and sweet, hair wild, and then next I’ve got her caged against my chest.
Emme is all curves and heat, and she releases a wicked purr that drips from her throat like she wants me to lose it.
And I do. I crash my mouth to hers, hard enough to bruise, and the second our lips meet, the rest of the world falls away.
There’s only her. Her taste. Her scent. Her little fucking noises.
Her lips part beneath mine, and the taste of her hits deep.
It’s sweet and first, then darker, sugar left over open flames long enough to turn smoky and rich.
Each rough kiss deepens it, heat curling at the base of my spine, her sweetness heady and intoxicating.
Our mouths move together, tongues tangling, the flavor of her clinging to every breath until it’s impossible to tell where the sugar ends and she begins.
She moans into my mouth, high and desperate, and the sound is gasoline on the fire burning away what little control I have left.
I answer with a growl as every inch of me hardens.
My wolf lunges forward, snarling for skin, for her.
I kiss her like I’m starving and she’s the last sweet thing on earth.
My teeth drag over her bottom lip, sucking it between mine until she whimpers, clawing at my shoulders.
She arches into me, panting. “West,” she gasps, voice fraying. “I need—”
“You’ll get it,” I snarl.
I lift her, and she comes willingly, like she belongs in my arms, and fuck, the way she clutches at me—legs cinched tight around my waist, nails biting into my shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life—it makes my cock ache.
The movement draws a sharp, musical yip from her, bright and wild and vixen to the core. My wolf lives for that sound and responds with a possessive growl that rumbles in my chest.
Without thinking, I bury my face in the curve of her throat and bite.
Hard enough to leave a mark, because I need her wearing me.
She shudders, body jerking in my arms as I drag my tongue over the sting, soothing and claiming in the same breath.
I want her trembling. I want her to feel me there for days.
Her skin tastes like sugar and heat and something wild I’ll never finish chasing.
I catch her earlobe between my teeth and pull just enough to hear her gasp and feel her legs clamp tighter around my waist.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, her arms around my neck like she’d fall if she didn’t hold on.
She arches into me, tits pressing to my chest, soft and flushed and aching to be bitten next.
And those sounds, fuck, those sounds she makes…
little yips that melt into broken whimpers, breathy and desperate and made just for me.
Each one hits me lower, hotter, and my cock throbs, straining against my zipper.
I slam her down on the flour-dusted counter, and the smack her ass makes against the wood punches up my spine like a warning shot. A white cloud bursts around us, powder coating her chest, my arms, the air between us thick with sugar and flour and something feral rising under my skin.
One candy-pink bra strap has fallen off her shoulder.
Her lips are swollen from kissing. A streak of flour slashes across her collarbone, and her platinum hair is a glowing gold halo in the firelight behind her.
Her pupils have gone wide, nearly swallowing the color of her eyes, and I can still taste the sweetness of her mouth on my tongue.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
I lean in close, dragging the tip of my nose down that line of flour on her skin, tasting the salty sweet heat rising off her body. Her thighs twitch against my hips.
“You sure?” I ask, but my voice is already wrecked, breaking on the edge of a growl. The question is more a warning than permission. A last chance to run before I stop pretending I can let her go.
Her lips part and her answer is instant, breathless, certain. “Don’t stop.”
She digs her nails into my shoulders and yanks me down into another hungry kiss. Her lips are soft, but her mouth is all teeth and tongue and need. She moans against my tongue, hips grinding against mine, and I feel that sound like a goddamn command.
I snarl against her mouth as I pop the button on her jeans, swallowing her gasp like it belongs to me.
She arches beneath my hands, panting, and I yank the denim down in one hard, brutal sweep that drags over her thighs with a satisfying scrape.
A bright yip escapes her. It’s like she can’t help it.
Like her fox is right there under the surface, begging to be chased.
My gaze drops. And fuck me.
Matching candy-pink lace hugs her hips and covers her pussy. It’s sweet and delicate and soaked through. My cock throbs at the sight, stiff and pulsing against my zipper. She’s flushed, panting, wrecked, and she’s already dripping for me.
“Such a pretty little fox,” I rasp.
“So wet for my big, bad wolf.”
That does something violent to my insides.
I drag my hands up her hips, over her ribs—her skin warm, soft, so fucking perfect—until I’m palming her tits through the lace.
The bra’s nothing but decoration, a thin scrap that doesn’t do shit to hide the way her nipples are already pebbled tight beneath it.
I groan, low and ragged, and hook my fingers under the center. One hard pull, and it splits like it was made to be destroyed. The ruined bra falls in pieces to the flour-dusted floor.
Her tits are perfect. Round and full and tipped with the kind of cotton candy pink nipples that beg to be licked raw. I drag my tongue across the curve of one of her breasts, tasting the salt of her skin, then close my mouth over the peak and suck.
She jerks, then moans, and her back arches like she’s offering herself to me.
“So fucking sweet,” I growl against her as my hands squeeze her ass, her thighs.
The panties are next. I grip the lace and tear. The thin fabric gives way like wet paper in my hands. She gasps again, thighs twitching, and now—finally—she’s bare and open. And this time, I can touch.
My hands roam, greedy, flour streaking across her hips, her waist, her thighs. One wide, filthy handprint lands right over her tit, stark white against flushed pink, pressed there like a brand.
Mine.
The word howls in my head. The wolf claws at my skin, begging to break free.
“Yes.” I groan out loud, voice wrecked and shaking. “Mine.”
I palm the thick length of my cock through my jeans, hard and already leaking.
She meets my gaze with that sly fox smile, eyes glittering like she wants to be devoured. Wants me to ruin her. Wants me to break her open and lap up everything that spills out.
“Mmm,” she purrs, voice like warm honey. Her thighs spread wider as she tilts her head, lashes low. “All yours.”
Then she grabs my hand, pulls it to her mouth, and sucks two of my fingers in deep, hollowing her cheeks around them. She pops them free with a wet slurp, and her spit glistens over my skin, slick and hot.
“Too bad you’re not a sweets kinda guy,” she murmurs.
Growling, I squeeze her thigh with my free hand, fingers digging into the soft muscle as I drag her to the edge of the counter.
“Wicked little fox. For you, I’m whatever you want.”
I grab the open bag of sugar and plunge my wet fingers inside.
I coat them, then drag them over her breasts, dusting the tight peaks of her nipples.
Her breath stutters. She’s panting, writhing, her skin erupting in goosebumps as the granules grind against her soft flesh.
I bend and lick her clean. I suck her nipple into my mouth and scrape my teeth over it as I lap up every last grain.
I trail sugar down her belly, a sinful path that glitters in the low light. I drag my tongue across it, painting a sticky trail of heat past the soft dip of her navel. As I get lower, her breathing quickens, and her hips lift, chasing more. Chasing me.
I bury two fingers in her heat, groaning as I feel how wet she is. How soft. How ready.
Then I drag them out, slick with her arousal, and press them back in, work my fingers inside her as I kneel and drag my nose through her pussy.
“You smell so goddamn good,” I say, voice thick.
She trembles, yipping as I lick a through her folds. She’s sticky and hot with a sweetness that makes my eyes roll back.
“West, yes, more.”
I groan into her pussy, tongue flattening against her folds, gathering her sweetness and the leftover sugar from my fingers until I’m drunk on it.
Her thighs clamp around my head as I fuck her with my tongue, slurping, moaning, licking her like she’s dripping honey straight from the hive.
When she starts to shake, I pull back just enough to dip my fingers back into the bag and smear more sugar on her clit, watching it melt into her heat.
Then I thrust my fingers into her again, stretching her open and coating every inch of her sweet pussy with sugar and spit, tasting her like she’s the last dessert I’ll ever eat.
She fists my hair and pulls as my fingers pump into her while my mouth seals around her clit, tongue flicking and circling and sucking until her back arches off the counter, and her slick, sweet juices drip down my chin.
She’s shaking, whimpering, soaking me, the sound of my fingers plunging into her echoing through the cabin.
“Do you hear how good that sounds? How wet you are?”
She nods, barely holding on, a wreck of sugar and sweat and moans. Her hands claw at the counter. Her thighs tremble like her legs are about to give out.
I finger fuck her deeper, curl them just right, and she detonates.
Her orgasm crashes into her like a goddamn freight train.
She screams my name, and her pussy clenches around my fingers so tight, I nearly come in my jeans.
But I don’t stop. I devour every drop of sweet, ruined bliss that drips from her as my tongue works her through the quake.
I rise slowly and wipe the sticky mess of her sweetness off my chin with the back of my hand as her chest heaves, body sweat-glazed and dusted with floury, sugary handprints that mark her as mine.
“So fucking delicious,” I murmur and palm my cock through my jeans. “But I’m still not full.”