I reach for the laces of his breeches, fumbling with the ties while his mouth moves down my throat. The leather parts beneath my trembling fingers, and he steps out of it, leaving us both naked in the silver light. My eyes drop to his cock, already hard and straining toward me, and my mouth goes dry. Even after last night, the sight of him steals my breath. Thick and long and veined, with a slight upward curve that hits every sensitive spot inside me. At the base, I can see where the knot will form,the flesh slightly swollen even now, waiting to lock us together for the first time.
"Second thoughts?" His voice is rough with barely leashed need.
"Not even close."
He lifts me like I weigh nothing at all, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me the few steps to the altar stone. The furs are soft and warm against my back as he lays me down, a stark contrast to the granite beneath. The runes carved into the surrounding stones begin to glow with a soft blue light, pulsing gently in time with my racing heart, and I realize the circle itself is responding to what we are about to do.
Stellan settles over me, bracing his weight on his forearms, and for a moment he simply looks at me. Moonlight catches the planes of his face, the sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, the scar that bisects his eyebrow. His eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my chest ache.
Then his mouth finds my throat, and thinking becomes impossible.
He kisses down my body with devastating patience, his teeth grazing the spot where he will eventually bite before continuing lower. The anticipation of it sends a shiver through my entire body. His lips trace the hollow of my collarbone, then the swell of my breast, then the hardened peak of my nipple. He sucks it into his mouth and works it with his tongue until I am arching off the furs, my hands fisting in his hair.
"Stellan." His name comes out as a moan.
"Not yet." He releases my nipple and moves to the other one, giving it the same thorough attention. "I want to taste every inch of you first."
He takes his time, and the slowness is its own kind of torture. His mouth maps the curve of my ribs, the dip of my waist, the jut of my hipbone. He presses kisses to the inside of my thigh, soclose to where I need him that I can feel his breath against my slick folds, but he does not touch me there. Not yet. The denial makes me writhe against the furs, my hips lifting in silent plea.
"Please." The word escapes before I can stop it.
"Please what?"
"Touch me. I need?—"
He looks up at me through his lashes, wolf-gold eyes gleaming with wicked intent. "Need what, little wolf? Tell me exactly what you want."
"Your mouth." Heat floods my cheeks, but I force the words out. "I want your mouth on me. I want you to make me come on your tongue."
His lips curl, predatory and pleased. "Since you asked so nicely."
The first stroke of his tongue tears a cry from my throat. He licks me from entrance to clit in one long, slow motion, savoring me like I am the finest delicacy he has ever tasted. Then he does it again. And again. Each stroke deliberate, thorough, designed to drive me slowly out of my mind.
He establishes a rhythm that has my hips rolling against his face, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly. Two fingers slide inside me, crooking to press against the spot that makes my vision white out at the edges. His mouth closes around my clit and sucks while his fingers work me open, stretching and preparing me for what is to come.
The orgasm crashes through me like a wave, sudden and devastating. My back arches off the furs and my thighs clamp around his head, but he does not stop. He works me through the aftershocks and straight into another peak, his tongue relentless against my oversensitized flesh.
"Stellan!" His name is a plea and a prayer.
He adds a third finger and stretches me further, the slight burn only adding to the pleasure. His thumb circles my clit withjust enough pressure to keep me hovering on the edge. The fourth orgasm hits harder than the first three combined, and I am trembling, wrung out, strung so tight I might shatter.
"Please." Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I am not sure if they are from pleasure or desperation. "Please, I need you inside me. I need all of it. The knot. The bite. Make me yours."
He crawls up my body and positions himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against my slick folds. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the predator disappears. There is only the man, vulnerable and desperate and so deeply in love that it steals my breath.
"I love you." The words are rough, scraped raw. "I have loved you since I first caught your scent, before I knew your name, before I understood what you would become to me. You are everything, Iris. My heart. My soul. My reason for continuing to draw breath."
My hand comes up to cup his face, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. "I love you too. Now stop talking and claim your mate."
He thrusts inside me with a groan that resonates through my bones, and I arch to meet him, taking him deep in one smooth stroke. The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, but my body welcomes the intrusion with a flood of fresh arousal. He fills me completely, every inch of him seated inside me, and for a long moment, neither of us moves. We simply breathe together, adjusting to the sensation of being joined.
Then he begins to move, and coherent thought becomes impossible.
He sets a rhythm that builds from controlled to desperate, each stroke hitting deep and true. I wrap my legs around his waist and arch to meet him, taking him impossibly deeper, wanting more, needing more, needing everything he has to give.
"So tight." His voice is guttural, barely human. "So perfect. Made for me. Only for me."
"Only for you." The words spill out between gasps. "Only ever for you."
