He set it carefully on the tray, then lifted a napkin and dabbed at his mouth—never once taking his eyes off me. When he dropped the napkin aside and slid the tray away, the silence stretched, heavy with intent.
“I would like my shirt back,” he said evenly.
“That’s no very gentlemanly o’ye,” I replied, twirling a loose strand of hair around my finger.
His expression shifted, something dark and pleased settling into his eyes.
“Who said I was a gentleman?” he murmured, resting his hand on my knee before inching it slowly beneath his shirt.
His fingers travelled upward, unfastening the buttons one by one. I sat still, watching as he worked higher, until the soft cotton slid down my arms and pooled at my hips.
It might have been Baltic outside, but inside I was burning—again.
And he knew it.
“In your nest,” he said, voice low and unyielding,“and present yourself on your hands and knees.”
Every instinct in me bristled at the command, but I knew—somehow—that obedience would serve me better than defiance.
He added insult to injury when his palm smacked my rear as I moved into position.
A growl tore free from my chest.
He only chuckled.
“That’s the spirit.”
I heard the rustle of his breeches coming off as I tried not to bury my face in the nest. His scent was still strong—thick and unmistakable—and I felt my slick trickle slowly down my thigh.
The wooden frame creaked as he joined me.
My fingers tightened around the clothing beneath me.
“Do you need my knot, darling?” he teased, running his nails lightly along my spine.
I was about to snap at him when a cramp seized me without warning. I froze, panting through it, every muscle locking until the pain eased enough for breath to return.
“Yes,” I hissed.
He leaned over me, licking the spot between my neck and shoulder—his mark, where he’d bitten me. I shivered as the cramp slowly eased. His arm curled around my chest and his cock brushed against me, grazing the heavy length back and forth, deliberate and unhurried, until the sensation drove me to distraction. I moaned and tried to push back against him.
His hand closed around my breast. The touch wasn’t gentle. I felt his fingers bite into me, and I gushed over his cock, trembling with anticipation. His tongue worked its way up to my ear.
“Good, little mate,” he murmured.“Bathe my cock with your slick.”
His fingers drifted toward my sensitive nipple just as his knot rubbed between my thighs, grazing my opening.
“Please, Thaddeus,” I cried.
“Shhh,” he murmured, drawing his knot back over me until a whimper tore from my throat.“We have to wait until you’re ready, my love. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His fingers worried my nipple—tugging, twisting—before pinching it hard enough to steal my breath.
“You won’t,” I panted in short, broken bursts.“I—I need… you.”
He stilled. Then he lifted his head away, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. His grip tightened just enough as he pressed my face down into the nest. I groaned, breathing him in, burying myself in his scent as my body answered for me—hips lifting, spine arching, offering without thought.
“Tell me exactly what you need,” he demanded.
