Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The word repeated over and over in Adrian’s head, his wolf’s claim but also his.
He leaned down, burying his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her sweet, clean scent.
A growl rumbled through him and he could feel her slight body tremble.
Her hands moved, sliding around his back, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders.
“Please, Adrian,” she whispered.
Her submission, her trust, was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever known.
All the days of tension, of denial, of fighting an attraction more powerful than any he had ever experienced, vanished.
He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, and strode into the room.
He barely registered the click of the balcony door as he kicked it closed.
The only thought in his head was the overwhelming need to be inside her.
He lowered her onto the bed, following her down, covering her small body with his own.
His wolf howled its approval as she arched up against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips and she opened for him immediately.
Her response was every bit as desperate as his.
He plundered her mouth, their tongues tangling, the kiss deepening until she was writhing beneath him, her soft moans driving him insane with need.
His claws caught the neckline of her shirt, ripping it away to expose the small curves of her breasts, perfect in the brilliant moonlight.
His mouth watered, the primal need to taste her overwhelming him.
He lowered his head, closing his lips around one tight peak, and she cried out, a desperate, needy sound that made his cock throb.
He laved the sensitive bud, the taste of her skin adding to the fire building inside him.
She arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her as if she never wanted to let him go.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention as he slid a hand down her body, over the soft curve of her belly, and into her panties.
He growled against her skin as his fingers found her slick, wet heat.
He circled her clit with the pad of his thumb, and she bucked against him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
He stroked her slowly, deliberately, learning her responses, memorizing the little sounds she made, the way her body trembled beneath his touch.
He slid one finger inside her, and her tight little channel clenched around him, a slick, hot welcome that nearly shattered his control.
“Adrian,” she gasped, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm, seeking more. “Please.”
She tensed when he added a second finger, giving a soft cry, and some distant part of his brain tried to warn him.
She was so tiny, so perfect. But that thought was lost in the haze of need, in the scent of her arousal, in the primal instinct to claim, to mate, to bind her to him so completely that she would never be able to leave.
Need to claim. Need to mark. Need to make her ours.
He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between her legs.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with desire, her swollen lips parted as she fought for breath.
Her gaze dropped to his heavy cock, and she licked her lips.
A jolt of pure, primal triumph shot through him. She wanted this. She wanted him.
She reached down and guided him to her entrance, her small hand wrapping around him in a hesitant grip that sent fire racing through his veins.
The first touch of her wet heat against the head of his cock almost made him come right then and there.
He bit back a groan, fighting for control, fighting to make this last.
“Adrian,” she whispered again, her eyes searching his. “Now.”
He pushed into her, and the world shattered.
She was so tight, so impossibly hot, a perfect, glove-like clasp that made his vision blur with pleasure. A shocked cry escaped her lips, penetrating the need consuming him, and he froze, buried halfway inside her.
“Kitten?” His voice was rough, barely recognizable. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes were huge, luminous in the moonlight. She gave a shaky nod. “Just… give me a second.”
She was braced for another thrust, but he held himself perfectly still, his entire being focused on the feel of her.
He could feel her channel pulsing, a frantic, fluttering rhythm against the hard length of him.
He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the trust she was placing in him, and the sheer magnitude of that gift threatened to overwhelm him.
He lowered his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Take all the time you need.”
After a long moment, she shifted her hips experimentally, a small, tentative movement that sent a jolt of pure electricity through him. A slow smile spread across her face, her confidence returning in a rush.
“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m good.”
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice low and rough. “Don’t look away.”
Her eyes remained locked on his as he pushed deeper, a slow, deliberate invasion that stretched her to her limit.
He watched her face, every flicker of sensation reflected in her expression.
He saw it when the pain began to fade, felt her body soften to welcome him, felt the new kind of tension coiled in her limbs.
He seated himself fully inside her, his hips pressed against hers, and held there for a long moment.
He started to move then, a slow, deliberate retreat and advance that let her adjust to him, let her body learn the shape of him.
Each glide brought a new wave of sensation, a deeper pleasure that threatened to drown them both.
Her hands roamed over his back, her nails scoring lightly against his skin, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist as she met him thrust for thrust.
The sounds she made drove him insane—soft whimpers that turned into gasps, then sharp cries as he found a rhythm that pushed her higher. He angled his hips, changing the angle of his penetration, and she cried out, her head falling back against the pillows, her entire body arching into him.
The sight of her—this brilliant, defiant woman completely undone by pleasure—was more intoxicating than anything he had ever experienced. He watched her face as he moved inside her, watched the pleasure build, watched the moment it crested and broke.
Her climax hit her with the force of a tidal wave.
She screamed his name, her body convulsing around him, her muscles clenching him in a frantic, desperate rhythm that sent him over the edge with her.
He plunged into her one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go, and his own release tore through him, a blinding, shuddering force that left him breathless and shaking even as he yanked his cock free before his knot could expand and lock them together.
He collapsed onto her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows, their bodies still joined, their hearts pounding in a frantic, unsteady rhythm.
He buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent, trying to ground himself in the aftermath of the most intense experience of his life.
His fangs had dropped, aching with the need to mark her, but that was something he wouldn’t do without her permission.
‘Wow,” she whispered eventually, her voice hoarse. “I think my brain just short-circuited.”
He couldn’t help the low rumble of satisfaction that vibrated through his chest. He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, keeping her close. She was so small against him, her head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, her pink hair spread across his chest in a wild, glorious tangle.
He traced the curve of her hip, the skin still warm and flushed from their lovemaking.
He should feel regret, or at the very least, concern.
He had just slept with a human female on the night of the full moon, a night when he was barely in control of himself.
He had just risked everything—his authority, the stability of his pack, the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart—for her.
But he didn’t regret it. Not one single second.
And that was terrifying.
The full moon was still high in the sky, its silver light pouring into the room and washing them in its glow. He could feel its pull still, a thrumming, restless energy beneath his skin. The urge to mark, to claim, to make her his in every possible way, was still a potent force.
But the desperate, driving edge was gone. Eventually he slipped out of bed to fetch a warm wet washcloth, but as he gently stroked her swollen folds, he saw the traces of blood on the cloth and froze.
“Fuck, kitten,” he whispered. “Did I hurt you?”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t flinch away. “Just a little. At the very beginning. I’ve never done it before.”
The possessive satisfaction that surged through him was so intense it almost brought him to his knees. She was his. No one else had touched her like this. No one else ever would.
Only if I claim her as my mate.
He’d never wanted anything more, or been less sure if it was the right thing to do—for either of them.
But tonight the moon was still shining and she was naked and happy in his arms and he had one more thing he could do for her.
He discarded the washcloth and slid down between her legs. Her head popped up.
“What are you… Oh my God!”
She gave a startled cry as he licked from her sensitive entrance to her still swollen clit.