Chapter Ten #2
“You should.” My voice is lower than I intend.
“This is your shirt.”
“It looks better on you.” It’s the truth.
She smiles as she turns toward the bedroom and I catch her wrist. She looks up and the gold in my eyes reflects back at me in hers.
“Boone.”
“Before you put on the dress.”
My hand slides up her arm, over the flannel sleeve, to her shoulder, to the claiming mark on her neck.
Her breath hitches. “We don’t have time...”
“We have four hours.”
“We need to prepare...”
“I’m preparing.”
My mouth finds the mark and she shivers. Her head drops back, and I press her against the wall beside the bedroom door. My hands grip her thighs, lifting. Her legs wrap around me, instinctive, automatic, as if her body has already learned the shape of mine.
I kiss her deeply for long lazy minutes, my hand fondling her breast over material while she grinds against my hardness.
“This is distracting,” she gasps.
“This is the point.”
I set her down and spin her. Her palms slap the door and the sound cracks through the cabin. I flip the flannel up over her hips. She’s wearing nothing underneath. My wolf snarls with satisfaction.
“Boone...” Her voice is breathless. “The door.”
“Nobody’s coming up this path for four hours.”
“You don’t know that...”
“I know that.” I lean forward, mouth against her ear. “Now be quiet and let me make sure every wolf in that clearing smells me on you today.”
She makes a sound. Strangled and desperate, that goes straight to my straining cock.
I kick her feet apart, and my hand slides up her inner thigh.
She’s already wet. Slick and hot and ready, and the feel of her makes my cock leak with pre-cum.
I had her less than an hour ago, and already I want her again, I think I always will.
“Someone’s eager,” I murmur.
“Shut up and...”
I slide two fingers inside her, and her words dissolve into a moan. Her forehead drops against the door. I work her slowly, curling, pressing. She grinds back against my hand, and the bond floods with her want, hot and thick and overwhelming.
“You want more?” I ask.
“You know I do.”
“Beg.”
“Boone...”
“Beg. Out loud. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me. Now. Hard. I want to feel you for hours.”
I yank my boxers down, grip her hip with one hand, line up, and thrust.
The force of it drives her into the door. It rattles on its hinges. She cries out, sharp and raw, and I do it again. Harder. My hand fists in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing the claiming mark. I bite it again, not gentle, and she screams.
The fear of losing her is driving me, stripping me of any softness. I want her marked and filled with my cum when we step into that entrance. That motherfucker should be able to smell her a mile away.
“That’s it,” I growl against her throat. “Take it.”
“I’m taking ... fuck...”
“You take it so well. So tight. So fucking wet.” I drive deeper. “Mine.”
“Yours...”
“Say it again.”
“Yours!” The word breaks apart as I angle my hips. “Yours, yours...”
My hand slides around to the front, fingers finding the spot that makes her buck. I circle it slowly, and she writhes, caught between my hand and my cock, pinned between my body and the door.
“Come for me,” I say. “Now.”
She shatters. Her whole body seizes, back arching, nails scraping the wood. She screams my name, loud enough to echo through the trees, and the sound pushes me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt and come, growling against her neck, teeth pressed to the claiming mark.
We stay like that. Breathing. Trembling.
I press my forehead to her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“That’s the point.”
She laughs. Wrecked and beautiful.
I pull back slowly. I go into the room and search for her underwear. I find it lying on the floor and pick it up. I return to her and kneel. She looks down at me, eyes wide.
“Hold still,” I say.
I slide the underwear up her thighs, over her hips, and adjust the fabric with careful fingers. Then I smooth the flannel down over her ass, straighten the collar, and press a kiss to the claiming mark.
“Boone.” Her voice is rough. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you smell like me.”
She blinks. Understanding dawns. “You’re scent-marking me.”
“Thoroughly.”
“For the meeting.”
“For the meeting. For Ashstone. For every wolf who gets within ten feet of you today.” I stand and cup her face.
“When Dax walks into that clearing, he’s going to smell me on every inch of your skin.
He’s going to know, without doubt, that you are claimed.
That you chose me. That I chose you. And there is not a damn thing he can do about it. ”
Her pupils dilate and the bond flares. “That’s the most territorial thing you’ve ever said.”
“Get used to it.”
She grins. Feral and unafraid.
Neither of us showers, but I change into clean clothes.
Black t-shirt, dark jeans and boots. I watch her pull on the green dress, letting the fabric fall over the skin I just marked with my mouth and hands and scent.
The claiming mark sits visible on her throat.
She doesn’t cover it. She leaves it exposed. Bold. Proud.
My wolf purrs. Again. She crosses the cabin and takes my hand. Her fingers lace through mine. The bond settles, steady, fierce, and certain.
“Ready?” I ask.
“No.” She smiles. “Let’s go anyway.”
I open the door and afternoon sun floods the porch. The forest stretches ahead, bright and sharp. The path to the pack hall winds through the trees.
Wren steps out first, my scent soaked into every fiber of her being. She looks like a female who has been thoroughly, publicly, and undeniably claimed. She also looks thoroughly fucked, because she has been.
I follow her into the sunlight, and my wolf stretches beneath my skin, satisfied and savage. Let Ashstone come. Let Dax bring his contract, his witnesses, and his pretty polished boots. Let him smell what’s waiting for him.
She’s mine.
She chose it.
And every wolf in that clearing is about to know it.