He bows his head to mine in a nod. “And I always will.” He captures my lips, slips his tongue into my mouth when I part for him, consumes me with strokes of his tongue against mine.
My perfume floods the air with my honey-vanilla scent, and he lets out a low groan that makes desire curl in my belly.
He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him, until I can feel his hard length against my core. I moan and rock against him, not breaking our kiss, suddenly not so keen on waiting.
He laughs a dark laugh, filled with sensual promise, as I grind down against him, already whimpering. “Oh no, my darling,” he says. “I told you I was going to take my time.”
CHAPTER41
He strokes my hair back from my eyes, staring at me in wonder. When I tip my lips up for a kiss, he captures them and kisses me slowly, consuming me with the languid fall of his lips against mine. I whimper into the kiss and squirm in his lap, desperate for the friction of his hardness against my clit, needing to feel him.
He flips us with a growl until I’m on my back on the thick mattress of my nest.
“May I come into your nest, omega?” There’s a note of humor in the question—he’s already on top of me in my nest, but I loop my arms around his neck and pull him closer.
“You’d better.”
He sets a hand to my breast, thumbing my nipple through my tee shirt and bra until I’m coming off the bed, seeking any touch I can find, needing him between my hips. But he doesn’t give me his hips, only a thigh between mine I can grind against, and I mewl, clutching the sheets.
“You’re so impatient,” he laughs, stroking up my side beneath my shirt, touch light over my belly, my ribs. He tugs down the lace cup of my bra, freeing my peaked nipple to his touch and he teases me, light strokes, gentle pinches, until I’m rocking against nothing, desperate for his touch, needing to feel him moving inside me.
He ducks his head to steal a kiss. “You are soveryresponsive, my darling.” There’s a note of praise in his voice that makes my core go molten and slick, and I whine, breathing out a little cry.
He studies me intently, a wry smile on his lips. “If I were to slide this skirt down your thighs, how wet would I find your sweet little cunt?”
“Very,” I gasp out as he tweaks my nipple.
He chuckles and draws his hand from beneath my shirt, but I’m not without his touch for long. He grasps my knee and hitches my leg over his hip, then slides his hand up the outside of my thigh, teasing the tips of his fingers along the lace edge of my panties until he’s stroking the inside of my thigh, so close to my drenched sex that I squirm.
He slips my panties to the side and sinks a long, thick finger into me, and I cry out, throwing my head back.
“You feel amazing,” he grits out, pumping his finger into my cunt, making my slick flow for him. “So wet for me.”
“For you,” I swear, canting my hips up into his touch, letting out a sigh of bliss as his finger finds that spot inside me that sends white-hot pleasure shooting through my body.
His touch is all too brief. He leaves me empty, draws his hand from beneath my skirt, sucks his finger into his mouth and lets out a deep groan as he sucks my slick from the digit. “You’re so fucking sweet.”
I grab for the hem of his shirt, and he lets me find the buttons, lets me undo them one by one until I can shove the shirt off his shoulders. A tight undershirt clings to the sculpted planes of his chest, his abs, and I whimper, needing to touch, to taste. I tug his tee shirt free from his slacks and he lets me, helping me pull the shirt off over his head.
He’s just as beautiful as I remember, like an ancient god captured in marble. I run my fingertips down the ladder of his abs, feeling the coarse hair that trails down from his navel into his pants. I look up at him, shoot him a wicked smile, and cup him through the thick merino, squeezing his length through the fabric until his hand closes over mine.
He shows me just how hard to squeeze to make him let out little hisses of breath, and I want so much more of him, his hot length in my palm, skin to skin. I want to work him in my hand until he’s dizzy with pleasure, guide him to my entrance, take him to his knot, move my hips against his until we both find our bliss.
He lets out a growl and pulls my tee shirt off. He rocks back on his knees and takes me in, one breast bared to him, the other still encased in pale pink lace.
His scent spikes between us, the spicy cedar and bright bergamot I so love. He pulls me into a frantic kiss, tongue plunging into my mouth, breaking the kiss only to pant out praise. “So beautiful. Exquisite.Mine.”
“Yours,” I swear.
Saints, I may not be in heat, but he makes me dizzy with need. Makes me want to beg. “Please,” I pant.
“Tell me what you want, my darling.” There’s an edge to his voice, not an alpha command, but an order that makes slick run down my thighs. There are so few alphas who make me feel so safe that I wouldn’t second guess a soft-spoken demand like his, and I moan with the realization.
His fingers dance along the inside of my thigh, light teasing touches against the silk of my panties until I’m letting out little begging mewls.
“I want your fingers in my cunt while my clit’s in your mouth!” I gasp out.
His answering grin, pleased and lazy, sends slick gushing from my sex. He tips my chin up with a single finger until he can look me in the eye. “Very good, Juniper. Take off your skirt and panties.”
