“Please,” she whined, fingernails digging into his shoulders, “please!”
For a moment, he paused, looking down at her, relishing the sweet abandon on her face. He had done that. Those sounds spilling from her pretty lips were because of him.Forhim.
He bared his teeth, pushing forward, feeling her walls tighten around him as inch by inch he sank into her wet heat. She cried out, trembling hard, grasping onto him tight enough to draw blood.
He didn’t care.
Picking up a brutal, relentless pace, he began rocking into her, forcing her body to take him and take its pleasure from him. Her first orgasm came thick and hard, her eyes screwing shut and her mouth falling open in a silent gasp.
He didn’t let up. Speeding his movements, he brushed his thumb over her clit, his lips dropping to her breast, biting hard enough to bruise. As she reached her peak a second time, he came in an explosion, roaring her name into her neck as stars exploded behind his eyelids.
For a moment, he lay there, breathing in her scent, relishing the delicious aftershocks trembling through him. And then he pulled back, rolling to the side, bringing her with him and tucking her under his arm.
She was panting, a small, amazed smile on her lips, her legs shaking.
“That was…”
“I know,” he rumbled, pressing a kiss to her hair, “sleep now. You’ll need it.”
“Will you stay?” she asked, glancing up at him.
He nuzzled her temple. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”
Chapter 19 - Layla
The Anchor was almost silent when they arrived.
The storm from the night before had blown itself out, leaving the air sharp and clean, the sea a restless whisper against the docks. Dawn light filtered through the warped windows, pale and uncertain, catching on the dust that drifted through the air.
Layla paused just inside the doorway. The scent of smoke and beer hit her, familiar and grounding, almost safe. For a moment, she could pretend they were just two people coming in from the cold. Not Alpha and Luna. Not a shifter and secret witch. Just…her and Dominic.
He turned the key in the lock behind them, the sound echoing softly in the emptiness. She could feel his nearness at her back, could still sense the faint hum of the bond pulsing beneath her skin, that warm, golden thread that refused to fade no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
Neither of them spoke.
Dominic shrugged off his coat and hung it over one of the hooks by the door, then glanced toward her. His hair was damp from the sea air, his collar open, and there was a faint shadow along his jaw, evidence of the toll of the last few days. He looked human like this, tired and quiet. Almost gentle.
“Tea?” he asked, voice low.
The simplicity of it undid her a little. She nodded.
While he crossed the room to rummage for mugs behind the bar, Layla drifted toward the window overlooking the harbor. The fog was lifting slowly off the water, revealing the dark shapes of fishing boats at anchor. Her reflection in the glass looked pale, almost translucent. She touched her palm where thefaint shimmer of the bond still lingered. It pulsed once, as if in answer.
It was strange how something so delicate could feel like a chain.
Dominic set a steaming mug on the table beside her. “Herbal. I hope it’s okay.”
She looked at him in surprise. Unless she was very much mistaken, Dominic Volkhov had just sounded almost…uncertain.
She couldn’t resist leaning into the warm strength of his chest, sighing as his arms came to rest on her hips, his lips pressing into the top of her head.
“It’s perfect,” she murmured, “thank you.”
He hummed in response, pulling her tighter against him.
For a while, they just stood together, watching the sun creep high over the still water. A blush, warm and insistent, stained her cheeks as she remembered the night before. The things he had whispered to her. The heat in his touch.
As if sensing the thread of her thoughts, Dominic’s hands on her hips suddenly grew heavy, expectant. She shifted slightly, just enough to brush against a growing hardness at her stomach. He growled, somehowimpossiblystepping closer into her.
