I met him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his back, scraping red lines down his skin. My legs hooked around his waist, heels pressing into his ass to pull him closer, harder. The slap of his hips against mine echoed in the room, mixed with the wet sounds of my pussy sucking him in.
“So good,” he groaned. “So fucking good.”
“Less talking, more...”
He cut me off with a brutal thrust, angling up to hit that spot inside that made my vision blur. I lost the ability to form words, replaced by a whine as pleasure spiked hot and fierce.
The war table groaned under us, wood creaking with every slam. More figurines toppled off the edges, clattering to the stone floor. In the back of my mind, I knew we’d wrecked hours of strategy, maps rumpling under my ass, ink smudging from my sweat. But fuck it. I couldn’t bring myself to care, not when Caelan was buried balls-deep inside me, his cock dragging along my walls, hitting every nerve.
“My love,” he growled against my throat, teeth grazing the skin. “You look so good with my cock buried deep inside you, little menace. Scream for me. Make sure every fucking wolf in this building hears it.” He bit my shoulder, right over the claiming mark, and I shattered.
The bite sent me over, orgasm crashing through me like a storm. My pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing tight as I came, waves of heat pulsing from my core, soaking us both. I screamed, the sound raw and uncontrolled just like he wanted, echoing off the stone walls.
Caelan thrust once more, deep and grinding, then went rigid. His cock throbbed inside me, hot cum spilling out in thick spurts, filling my pussy until it leaked around him. He groaned my name, hips jerking as he rode it out.
We fell against the table, his body heavy on mine, pressing me into the mess of papers and markers. I needed his weight, the solid feel of him pinning me down, our breaths syncing in harsh pants. Sweat slicked our skin, his cock still twitching inside me, softening slow.
“Better?” he asked after a moment.
“Better.” But the heat was already building again. I could feel it, a low simmer beneath my skin, growing warmer by the second. “But not done.”
His eyes darkened. “No?”
“The heat.” I was already pulling him closer again. “It’s not... I still need...”
“I know.” He lifted me easily, moving us, laying me down on the rug in front of the fireplace I hadn’t noticed until now. “I know what you need. And I’m going to give you everything.”
“Promise?”
“I’m your mate.” His hands gripped my hips. “Taking care of you is my only job.”
“I thought your job was being a prince.”
“That’s my second job. You come first. Always.” He whispered. “Come on, baby. I have two months of worshipping to catch up on.”
Round two was different.
Slower, sweeter. He took his time now, kissing every inch of my body, relearning me. His mouth traced paths down my throat, between my breasts, across my stomach. Every kiss felt intentional, purposeful.
“Were you thinking about me? During the war?” I whispered against his skin.
“Every second.” He pressed a kiss to my hip bone. “Every battle, every strategy meeting, every sleepless night. You were all I thought about.”
“Liar.”
“Never.” He looked up at me, gray eyes intense. “I almost got myself killed three times because I was distracted thinking about you.”
“That’s not romantic. That’s stupid.”
“Same thing, when it comes to you.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re beautiful.” He kissed my stomach. “And brave.” Another kiss, lower. “And mine.” Lower still. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”
I couldn’t argue, not when his mouth had moved lower, and all coherent thought dissolved.
He worshipped me with his tongue, taking his time, drawing out every sensation until I was writhing, begging, my hands fisted in his hair. He brought me to the edge twice, then backed off, making me curse his name.
