16. Graeme #2
There was the snap of the bottle lid, and then I was slicked from balls to head, once and then again. I shuddered as he moved over me, clutching a hand towel, and the fact that he’d thought to get both, because he wanted me as soon as I was able, brought his name to my lips on a choked whine.
“I’ve got you,” he crooned, lifting up, pressing the head of my cock to his entrance. “I couldn’t wait to have you. Watching you sleep was agony.”
He wanted me, and it was there, the truth of it in his blown pupils, the way he bit his lip, and the catch of his breath. I was what he craved.
“I don’t want to”––my breath caught as he pushed down, taking me inside a fraction––“hurt you. Avery,” I cried out, because the velvet vise of his ass engulfing me, squeezing slowly, in sweet increments, was hard to wait for.
I wanted to be buried inside of him, and everything I was, man and wolf, screamed at me to take him.
“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured, and the gruff, smoky sound of him as he took all of me, his ass flush with my groin, his hands gripping my chest, leaning forward to kiss me as I slid out a fraction, was so close to opening the door to the animal I was.
He’d been hurt, and I’d helped him heal the damage, but my beast was there, still so close to the surface, and he craved his mate with tooth and claw.
I breathed through the hunger, and it was heaven, the way he rode me, forward and back, deep, and I filled him to the hilt. Then he eased away, ravaging my mouth as his muscles rippled around me.
When he hooked his hand around my back, I did as he wanted and sat up, wrapping those long, beautiful legs of his around me, his knees bent over my elbows so I could yank him forward, hard, onto me, over and over, thrusting each time, no liquid roll but abrupt and hammering.
Both hands clamped around my neck, and he resisted when I tried to hammer inside again, and when my hands turned to claws, piercing his skin, where others had been fearful in the past, his smile was wicked and debauched, ready to play.
He wasn’t afraid. He craved all of me.
It happened so fast, the flicker from man to beast.
My teeth gnashed toward his mark, and he scrambled free, but he didn’t run; instead, he went facedown on the bed, ass in the air, in the same position as all the omegas had been at the club that night.
“Come, my alpha,” he whispered raggedly. “Show me your power.”
I was the nightmare that only alphas became—head of a wolf, claws where hands should have been, the penultimate moment before all that was left of me was the animal.
My jaws closed around the back of his neck, holding him down, still, as I shoved my length inside of him, plunging home, needing him stretched and filled, writhing on the end of my cock.
My teeth ground down, tasted blood, and then I lifted up, claws buried in his hips as I rammed into him, making him buck forward with the rutting.
Grabbing the back of his head, seeing my claws in his hair, I lifted him to his hands and knees and then bit down into this warm, sleek skin, chasing the red rivulets with my tongue, licking them roughly even as I drove deep, needing more of his submission, his delicious scent, and his blood.
When he turned his head, looking over his shoulder, and I heard the mewling cries welling up from his throat, I curled over him, licking his mouth, and when his tongue rubbed over mine, I wanted to claim my mate as the man I was and no longer remain in my shifted state.
“Please,” he moaned as I slid free and rolled him to his back in the middle of the bed, curling over him, shoving a pillow under his hips, draping his legs over my shoulders as I took hold of his cock and stroked him to the same tempo as my pounding.
“Graeme,” he rasped, and I felt his muscles clamp down around me, spasming as he came over my hand and abdomen, arching under me, mouth open, head back, panting hard.
I buried myself inside him, pushing, pressing, trying to get even a fraction deeper, coming hard, pumping into his body before I collapsed on top of him, never wanting to move, to be parted, happy to lie between his thighs for the rest of my life.
My mate, my husband, my omega…my love. And God, he was. Never a doubt, no question, not from the beginning, from the first kiss, first smile, first touch of his hand.
Everything had been spinning for so long. I was in a million pieces, together on the outside but never within.
But now, the man whose arms and legs I was wrapped in as he panted into the side of my neck, chuckling, kissing, nibbling with his sharp teeth, had gathered me up so tight that I knew I would be whole always, from now on. It was easy to believe when you found your other half.
The party at my home was a zoo. The house was filled with the jarl ; even those who’d never deigned to appear at functions before came to wish me the very best on my mating and assure me they were, of course, looking forward to the wedding.
I chuckled quietly, because there was no way in hell my grandfather was allowing half of these people at my wedding; they simply weren’t important enough to him.
As expected, Graeme Davenport the Third had insisted that Avery call him Grandfather , just as he’d directed Gigi to do when she and Stone were mated.
He was in heaven, introducing Avery to the people who mattered, not, as he called them, the rabble.
Richest didn’t matter at all to him. Character, a loving family, sound judgment, both ethically and financially, that was the ticket.
He already adored Avery’s mother, and had made certain her hand had not left his arm.
My grandmother had taken Linden under her wing the instant she spotted him.
Always a fan of flawless, cultivated taste, she found a confidant in him.
He could spot a piece of fake jewelry from across the room, and so could she.
Avery told me Linden had been worried that people would talk about him behind his back, but with Joan Follet Davenport holding his arm, no one dared.
If she didn’t like you, God help you; she could destroy social standing with a squint in your direction, and Linden was her new favorite, after Avery.
My new mate had stepped in and hugged her, squeezing a slight grunt from her she found enchanting. I hadn’t been worried. The man was far too charming for anyone not to be spellbound.
There was food, dancing, rivers of cold champagne, a full bar, and since we were using the gold-plated flatware, Izzy had her team watching it like a hawk.
No fork was going in anyone’s clutch on her watch.
When Kat relieved her, Izzy and her husband, Michael, one of the top accountants in the finance department—a quiet, bookish man with curly red hair and more freckles than I’d ever seen on anyone in my life, who could trip over a crack in the sidewalk—were dancing.
Somehow, when he was with his wife, she made him look like Fred Astaire.
The power of love was never to be underestimated.
Wade arrived, looking resplendent in an Armani tuxedo that fit him like a glove.
It was fun to watch all the heads turn when the gorgeous man walked by.
I enjoyed seeing Linden spot Wade and try and duck behind a giant arrangement of wisteria.
Wade walking around behind his quarry as Linden slowly lifted his head, and then squealed in surprise when Wade tapped him on the shoulder, was the best thing that happened all night.
I had no idea what was going on with those two, but my grandmother liked Wade just fine, and when she collected Linden, she took hold of Avery’s partner as well.
Gigi, Andrea, and Avery’s sister-in-law, Dove, were talking business in one corner; Stone, Ambrose, and Andrea’s husband, Crawford, were discussing basketball in another, and I was ready to go.
We’d made the announcement, there had been applause, Avery and I shared a dance that was only not horrible because my mate glided over the floor, and even though I was leading, much like Izzy did for her husband, he made me look good.
Afterwards, I was swarmed with people wanting to talk to me, and I complied because it was the right thing to do, and Avery was bringing out a different side of me, a warmer side, and people were responding to that.
“To be a strong, respected leader is an excellent asset,” my grandfather told me, “but now they realize that you’re a man who can be loved, and…well now,” he husked, smiling at me through brimming eyes, “I’m so proud of you.”
Our hug was long. It was an uncharacteristic interaction for us, and I had only one person to thank.
The night wore on, and I ducked into the library for just a moment and found Linden sitting on one of the couches, bent forward, with Wade sitting beside him, rubbing his back. Only Wade noticed me, and when he lifted his head, he mouthed the words panic attack .
I nodded quickly and was about to leave when Linden looked up.
“Oh,” he gasped, and tried to get up, struggling for a moment until Wade placed his hand on Linden’s shoulder, gentling him with the simple touch.
I watched as Linden’s eyes fluttered with the careful display of dominance.
“He feels like he didn’t say thank you enough,” Wade blurted out.
“The words seem so inadequate, sir,” Linden muttered with an exhale. He was mortified, and that was evident from the way he couldn’t meet my gaze.
“Linden,” I murmured, and his eyes flicked up to my face.
“My grandmother desperately enjoys finding new talent and sponsoring shows at different galleries all over the world. She used to host quite a few when she traveled more, but as she’s gotten older, she’s cut back.
She’s particularly concerned that she’s let down my home city of Chicago, and mentioned she’d like to talk to you about perhaps taking that over for her. ”
The way he gulped in air, he looked like a fish on dry land.