Chapter 17
Ian
Oh, this woman in my arms. Her scent when she comes is like a mountain stream, earthy and sweet. I hope my bed smells like her forever.
“How long will this last?” she asks quietly, squeezing my knot with her snug internal muscles. Is she so eager to leave now that our “business” is done?
“Longer if you keep doing that,” I joke, hoping to erase the serious note in her tone. It works. She squeezes me again, laughing when I growl at her and pretend to bite her shoulder.
“Just wondering how long we have,” she murmurs, settling back against me, the soft curve of her spine fitting against me as perfectly as my knot fits inside her.
“As long as we want.”
“You know that’s not true.” Her correction hangs in the air above us, threatening to break the spell we’ve cast.
“As long as we want tonight,” I amend. “A few more rounds to make sure we get the job done this month. That seems practical and efficient, doesn’t it?”
“Sure.” She giggles and then yawns, the sound warm and drowsy.
“Go ahead and nap. Should be about twenty minutes, give or take. Then I’ll wake you up.” And keep you awake for the rest of the night.
I jolt to awareness a few hours later to a dark room and a softened cock that is cooling against my thigh. Judging by the wetness, it has just slipped out of Julia, whose quiet, regular breaths let me know she’s still asleep. I must have dozed off, too.
Despite what I told her, I don’t have the heart to rouse her.
Not when her cheeks are pink and her face is worry-free.
As much as I crave being inside her again, she’s my mate, not just a vessel for me to create a family, and what I want most is to be close to her.
Gingerly, I remove her glasses and set them on the nightstand, then cover us both with an extra blanket.
When I wake again, morning light filters through the pine trees outside the window, painting stripes of gold across the wide-planked floor. The night’s over. The sun has risen. Our time is up.
And Julia’s not in bed with me. She left. That was all I get of her.
Time slows, and every muscle in my body tenses until my ears perk at a sound from the kitchen.
The tink of spoon-against-mug. She’s not gone.
That gets me up. I stumble around the bedroom, pulling on clean boxers while I suck in deep breaths of her scent.
It’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever smelled, and the thought of it fading, of her leaving and never coming back, is a physical pain.
I find her in the kitchen adding sugar to her coffee, the carton of soy milk I picked up for her on the counter.
A shy smile touches her lips when she spots me.
She’s wearing my plaid shirt with only a couple of the buttons done up.
It swallows her, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs, the fabric parting when she shifts to offer tantalizing glimpses of her curves beneath.
My clothes on her back. My mate, who has my seed inside her.
The sight makes my tail give a single thump against the side of the kitchen island, hard enough to hurt.
I grab it and sit down at the counter so I don’t give myself happy-tail syndrome and risk a visit to the doctor instead of more time with her.
“I found the coffee,” she says, her voice still husky with sleep as she motions to the half-full French press. “Want some?”
I nod, and she pours a second cup, sliding a steaming mug in front of me. “I hope I made it strong enough.”
“It’s perfect,” I rumble, taking a sip. My eyes are locked on how the shirt gapes to reveal her mouthwatering breasts as she leans across the island to position a plate of toast for us to share. Damn, I want to eat her up.
But there’s a new awkwardness between us, a distance that wasn’t there in the raw darkness of last night.
The business of the deed is done. Our breeding was successful, intense, perfect.
But the morning after is uncharted territory.
She picks up a piece of toast, nibbling on a corner, studiously avoiding eye contact.
The silence stretches, pregnant with everything we aren’t saying.
This can’t be it. The thought is a snarl in my mind. This can’t be the end.
My instincts are screaming at me that it’s not enough, that I need more of her, that I need to be inside her until she’s mine and no one else’s. I don’t know if it’s jealousy or the mate bond or some breeding instinct, but I want her again. I want more.
“I peeked at the nursery,” she finally says. “Before I made coffee.”
“What did you think?” I try to sound nonchalant, even though I’m desperate to know her answer.
She bites her lip. “It’s gorgeous. Love the blue color. Did you paint the tree mural?”
I shake my head. “My brother Sean’s mate is an artist. She drew it out and a bunch of us filled it in. I built the reading nooks, though.”
“I love it all. I would have killed for a room like that when I was a kid. Your pups are very lucky to have a dad like you.”
“Come.” I pat my thigh, encouraging her to sit on my lap. It’s only when her eyes widen that I realize it looks like I’ve called her like a dog. “Please, will you sit with me while we have coffee?”
She hesitates for only a second before circumnavigating the island with her mug in hand.
She turns, her back to my chest, and slowly lowers herself onto my lap.
The weight of her is glorious, solid and real.
I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her snug against me, and bury my muzzle in the crook of her neck.
Inhaling deeply, I commit her morning scent—peachy, aroused, creamy, and caffeinated—to a memory I know I’ll need to survive the coming emptiness.
She leans back into me with a soft sigh, her body relaxing. She picks up her toast again, and I hold her, listening to her eat, feeling the gentle movement of her breathing. It’s peaceful. It’s domestic. It’s tearing me apart.
My hand slides up her stomach, feeling along the opening of the flannel shirt, until my palm rests over one full, heavy breast. She stills with a tiny, sharp intake of breath. I can feel her nipple bead instantly against my palm through the fabric.
“But Ian,” she whispers. “It’s tomorrow.”
“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” I growl into her ear, my voice thick with a need that feels like it’s choking me. “I need to be inside you again. Now. This is my last chance, Julia. My last chance to feel my mate before it’s all over.”
“Our contract—” she begins, but she breaks off when my other hand slides down, under the hem of the shirt and up the smooth warmth of her inner thigh. She’s not wearing panties, just as I’d hoped. My cock stiffens instantly, and I’m sure she can sense it growing underneath her.
“I love that you have fur down here. And you’re so slick for me,” I murmur in her ear, inching my fingertips into her wetness. “Feel that? Your body is still answering mine.”
“Will doing it again help—ahhh,” she moans, resting her head back against my shoulder as I nudge between her labia and circle her clit, stroking it until it begins to swell. “With conception?” she finishes with a gasp, giving us both the excuse we need to continue.
“Yes.” I push two fingers into her, and her inner muscles flutter around them, a silken, clutching warmth that pushes my cock painfully against the back of her thigh.
I crook my fingers, finding that sweet spot inside her that makes her jolt.
“Your pussy knows we belong together. It’s not ready to let me go yet, is it? ”
“No,” she moans, her toast and coffee forgotten as she reaches back to thread her fingers into my mane.
That’s the permission I need. I lift her easily, turning her on my lap to straddle me.
Her eyes are wide, dark pools of desire, her shyness burned away by the sudden rekindling of the fire between us.
Her shirt—my shirt—falls open, and I groan at the sight of her bare breasts, full and heavy, swaying with the movement of our bodies as we grind together.
I lean forward and take one brown peak into my mouth, sucking and tugging at it as her hands play in my fur.
I eat up her sounds with the same appetite that I devour her breasts.
Without breaking contact, I reach between us, fumbling with the button of my jeans one-handed in a clumsy attempt to free my aching cock.
My knot gives a desperate, hopeful pulse. One more time. Just one more time.
My mate has mercy on me, giggling against the top of my head as she pushes my hand away and unbuttons my pants herself. My cock springs free in a hot slap, and she sucks in a needy breath.
“Is that for me?” she asks, a smile in her voice that I can’t see because my face is still buried in her glorious chest.
“Only for you,” I grit out, raising my head. “It will only ever be for you.”
I grip her hips, helping her move up my body as she clings to my shoulders for balance.
Our gazes are locked as my cock notches at her entrance.
I watch, mesmerized, at how her face changes as she sinks down onto me, a slow, agonizing descent that steals the breath from both of us.
Surprise, overwhelm, and then a curling pleasure that makes her eyes roll back in her head.
She is so wet, so warm, so incredibly snug. Her inner walls stretch perfectly to accommodate me, or maybe my cock fills her perfectly. Either way, our bodies feel custom-made for each other.
She starts to move in a slow, rocking grind that quickly becomes frantic.
Her bouncing breasts are so hypnotic that I can’t look away.
I grab her hips, helping her, driving up into her, our movements growing desperate and erratic.
The wooden chair screeches against the floor with the force of our movements.
Her whimpers and moans go straight to my knot. It starts to swell, and my balls tighten in anticipation of my release. I’m not sure how much longer I can last if we keep this up.
“Are you close?” I gasp, tears welling in my eyes because I don’t want this to be over and I’m helpless to prevent it. I’m not just giving her a pup right now, I’m giving her my heart, too. And I’m only going to walk away from this with one of those things.
“Yes, so close, just like that,” she pants, her nails digging into the back of my neck. “If you come, I’ll come. Please, I want to feel it. I want to remember.”
Her words take me apart. My knot swells, catching at her entrance with every thrust. I know it’s almost big enough to lock us together. We’ll be stuck together for a little bit longer. The thought sends a surge of pure, possessive triumph through me.
“Going to knot you,” I snarl, my thrusts becoming shallow and purposeful, pushing against her resisting flesh. “Going to tie you to me, mate. One last time. Take my seed. Take all of it.”
I drive up, a final, heroic thrust, and the knot expands fully.
She cries out, her body clamping down on mine in a vice-like grip, milking me instantly.
The orgasm rips through me, and I howl, my head thrown back as I pump into her, jet after hot jet of my release flooding her depths.
It’s a claim, a promise, a desperate goodbye.
I feel her own climax ripple around my knot, pulling every last drop from me.
We collapse against each other, panting, shaking, fused together in the revealing morning light.
The knot holds us in its intimate, unbreakable lock.
My last chance. And I took it. I buried myself so deep inside her that maybe, just maybe, a part of me will stay with her forever. Maybe she won’t be able to let me go.
She slumps against me so her eyes are hidden in my mane, but her breath is hot against the exposed skin of my chest. “Ian…” Her voice cracks.
“I know.” I stroke down her back as she starts to shake, her tears dampening my fur. For some reason, her tears dry mine. I can be strong for her, if that’s what she needs. “It’s okay, baby. We’re going to be okay.”