Tempest
She had asked him to show her what it would look like for them to be together, and the kiss that he gave her nearly set her soul on fire. Her inner wolf was itching to break free to play with his wolf, and she could tell that he felt the same way.
Howler broke the kiss, leaving them both breathless.
Howler’s smile was slow, triumphant, and utterly devastating.
His wolf roared, a primal sound of satisfaction at her surrender, and her plea.
He pulled her from her chair, his arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her effortlessly.
The maps and papers scattered from the desk, forgotten as he settled her onto the polished wood, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.
The cool surface of the desk was a stark contrast to the sudden inferno that ignited between them.
His mouth descended, claiming hers with a hunger that matched her own, a promise of the explicit, untamed passion that had been simmering between them.
Her fingers tangled in his silver hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until it was a desperate, breathless exchange of air and desire.
His tongue dueled with hers, a fierce, possessive dance that left her gasping for more.
Her eyes were dark with desire as they met his.
“You first, Howler,” she challenged. Her voice was a breathless whisper as her own wolf demanded to be sated.
She arched against him, her hips instinctively grinding on his thigh.
It was a silent invitation that sent a jolt of raw electricity through her body.
He responded with a primal growl, his hands sliding under her leather vest, pushing it up and off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.
His fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, his gaze never leaving hers, and a silent question was in his eyes.
She nodded, her breath catching in her throat as he tore the fabric, buttons scattering like fallen stars all over the floor.
Her bra followed, tossed aside with a possessive urgency, revealing her full breasts.
His eyes devoured her, a primal appreciation that made her nipples harden, aching for his touch.
Tempest had never felt more beautiful than in this moment, and that had everything to do with the way Howler was looking at her.
He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of her collarbone, then suckling at the peak of one breast, drawing a sharp gasp from her.
Tempest knew that she’d wear his mark in the morning.
Her fingers buried themselves in his hair, holding him close, her body trembling with pleasure so intensely it bordered on pain.
He moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same exquisite attention as his hands roamed over her curves, tracing the line of her spine.
Howler cupped her ass, lifting her closer as he ground her against his hard erection through their clothes.
“You’re so wet for me, Tempest,” he whispered against her skin, his words a potent aphrodisiac. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes blazing with a raw, untamed desire. “Tell me you want me, Tempest. Tell me you need me.”
“I want you,” she gasped, her voice thick with need. “God, Howler, I need you.” She wasn’t above begging him for what she needed if that was what he wanted from her. She had never felt this needy before—not for any man.
Her confession was all the permission he seemed to need.
With a swift, decisive movement, he unzipped her jeans, his fingers deftly pushing them down her hips, along with her panties.
She kicked them off; her legs wrapped around him as her body was now fully exposed to his hungry gaze.
He shed his own clothes with a practiced ease, his powerful body, scarred and muscled, a testament to his alpha status.
His erection, thick and throbbing, sprang free, a potent declaration of his desire for her.
Tempest looked him over, licking her lips as though she couldn’t control herself.
She wanted to lick him from head to toe, and her wolf seemed to agree with her.
He positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on hers, seeking her consent, her unspoken command. She met his gaze, her own eyes blazing with a fierce, untamed desire. “Now, Howler,” she demanded, her voice a primal growl. “Please, I need you now,” she begged.
He entered her slowly, deliberately, stretching her.
He filled her, eliciting a deep moan of pure pleasure from her.
Her body felt like it was coiled tight as she eagerly welcomed him, clenching around him, drawing him deeper.
He paused, letting her adjust to him as the exquisite sensation washed over them both.
Then, with a guttural roar, he began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrust that quickly escalated into a frantic, primal dance.
Their bodies slammed together, the desk groaning under their combined weight.
The sounds of their pleasure filled the office—the slap of skin, her gasps, his grunts, the primal growls of their wolves.
He dove into her with a relentless rhythm, each thrust deeper, harder, faster, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
Her legs tightened around his waist, her nails digging into his back, leaving fiery trails on his skin.
She met his every thrust, her hips bucking, her body arching into him as she demanded more from him—always needing more.
The climax hit them like a tidal wave, a shattering explosion of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Her body convulsed around him as her screams echoed in the small office.
He poured himself into her, his own roar of release tearing from his throat.
They collapsed against each other, breathlessly spent, their bodies slick with sweat as their hearts hammered in unison.
Their breathing slowly returned to normal. Howler pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck, his scent filling her senses. “Together,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “This is what together means, Tempest.”
Tempest, still trembling, tightened her arms around him, her wolf purring in deep satisfaction.
The war raged outside, but at this moment, in the quiet intimacy of her office, on her desk, a different kind of battle had been fought.
It was a battle for their hearts, a battle she had willingly lost and gloriously won, all at the same time.
And as she lay there, intertwined with the man who had claimed her body and her soul, she knew, with absolute certainty, that this was just the beginning of their story.
The desk, usually a symbol of Tempest’s unwavering command, now felt like the stage of her most profound vulnerability.
Her body still thrummed with the echoes of Howler’s touch, the scent of their combined passion clinging to her skin.
It was a heady, intoxicating perfume. He had claimed her with a ferocity that matched her own, stripping away layers of control she hadn’t realized she possessed.
The explicit encounter had been a whirlwind of raw instinct, a dance of dominant alphas testing boundaries, finding explosive releases in their shared, untamed nature.
“I should be going,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
A part of her wanted to ask him to stay with her.
Hell, a part of her wanted to tell him to never leave her again, but she wasn’t that kind of woman.
Tempest prided herself on being self-sufficient, and begging a man not to leave her wasn’t her style.
But for some reason, Howler made her want to do a lot of things that she normally didn’t do.
“Um, sure,” she said, standing from the desk.
Tempest quickly grabbed her discarded clothing, slipping back on everything, including her shirt that had been destroyed when he ripped it off her body.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain that to her pack, but with any luck, they’d all be gone by now, and she wouldn’t have to.
Howler watched her get dressed and then pulled on his jeans and t-shirt. He was so casual about the whole thing, she worried that she had just imagined the intensity they had just experienced together. But that was silly, right? He dipped to kiss her and smiled down at her.
“You’re overthinking things,” he insisted. She wanted to tell him that he had no right to tell her what she was or wasn’t doing, because he didn’t know her that way—but he did. In a short amount of time, they had gotten to know each other very well.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she lied.
He chuckled. “Sure you don’t,” he said. “I have club business to attend to, but I’ll see you again soon,” he assured. Tempest wanted to ask him when that would be, but she didn’t want to come off as more desperate than she already was.
Instead, she quickly nodded and watched as he left as silently as he’d arrived, leaving her to clean up the scattered maps with the lingering heat of his presence hanging over her.
Shame, hot and unwelcome, warred with a thrilling, dangerous satisfaction deep down inside of her.
She was Tempest, President of the Dark Chaos MC, a leader who prided herself on her iron will and emotional fortitude.
Yet, with Howler, she had been a wild thing, responding to a primal call that bypassed all reason, and the crazy part was she couldn’t wait for it to happen again.