The filthy words make me clench around his fingers, and he rewards me by pumping them faster, harder. He matches the rhythm of his hand to the movements of his mouth, working me with a skill that borders on unfair. Every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire, and the pleasure builds and builds until I’m teetering on the edge of something enormous.
“That’s it.” He curls his fingers and flattens his tongue against my clit. “Let go for me, Caelan. I want to taste you when you come.”
The orgasm crashes through me without warning, tearing a scream from my throat as my inner walls spasm around his fingers. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through my body, and he works me through every second of it, licking and sucking andstroking until I’m panting on the mattress with aftershocks still rippling through me.
Before I can catch my breath, he adds a third finger and starts building me up again. I whimper at the stretch, at the overwhelming sensation of being so full while still so sensitive from my first release.
“Patrick, I can’t—”
“You can.” He presses a kiss to my inner thigh. “You’re going to come for me again, and then I’m going to bury myself inside you and make you come a third time.”
He makes good on his promise; he works me with his fingers while his mouth returns to my clit, and within seconds, the second orgasm hits even harder than the first. This one rips through me with a force that makes me scream his name loud enough for the entire packhouse to hear.
I don’t care. Let them hear. Let everyone know exactly who I belong to.
When the tremors finally subside, Patrick makes his way back up my body and positions himself at my entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses against my slick folds, and I whimper at the promise of more even as my oversensitive flesh protests.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I force my eyes open and find him staring down at me with an expression that makes my heart stutter. Want and tenderness and something fiercer underneath, something that looks almost like a word I’m still too afraid to even think of.
“I’m looking,” I whisper.
He pushes inside me with one long, slow stroke, and I gasp at the stretch. No matter how many times we do this, Idon’t think I’ll ever get used to how full he makes me feel or how perfectly he fits inside me like he was made for exactly this purpose.
Patrick holds himself still once he’s fully seated, giving me time to adjust even though I can see the strain in his face from the effort of not moving. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper, silently urging him to stop holding back.
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He starts to move in long, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive spot inside me, and my wolf rises to meet his. I feel them twining together beneath our skin, recognizing each other in a way that goes beyond the physical. The mate bond sings between us, amplifying every sensation until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
Patrick groans my name like a prayer while snapping his hips against mine with increasing force. “You feel incredible. So tight. So wet. Made for me. You were made for me.”
I dig my nails into his back and urge him to go faster and harder. He complies, driving into me with an abandon that makes the headboard slam against the wall. The sounds of our coupling fill the room—skin slapping against skin, breathless moans and whispered curses, and the creak of the mattress beneath our writhing bodies.
The pleasure builds again, different this time. Deeper and more consuming. I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in every cell of my body, crying out for completion. Patrick hooks his arm under my knee and changes his angle to grind against my clit with every thrust, and I keen beneath him with my release building at the base of my spine.
“Come with me,” he growls against my ear. “I want to feel you come on my cock while my knot fills you up.”
His knot begins to swell, stretching me impossibly wide, and the added pressure sends me hurtling over the edge. I scream his name as the orgasm crashes through me with my inner walls clamping down on his length so hard it makes him shout.
Patrick thrusts once more, and then he’s coming too. His release floods into me in hot spurts as his knot locks us together. Through the haze, I feel his teeth graze the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder, and then, he bites down.
The pleasure and the sting of his teeth mingle together into something transcendent. My wolf howls in triumph, recognizing the mark for what it is. A promise. A bond. A declaration that cannot be unmade.
Patrick collapses on top of me, and I wrap my arms around him while we both gasp for breath. His knot keeps us joined with his cock still twitching inside me, and I’ve never felt more complete than I do in this moment.
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks against my throat.
“No.” I run my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “You didn’t hurt me.”
He lifts his head to look at me, and what I see in his eyes makes me hold my breath. Tenderness and possession and a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see. I reach up and run my index finger along the line of his jaw, marveling at the fact that this fierce wolf, who has been through so much, chose me.
Or maybe I chose him. Maybe we chose each other.
“The mark…” he begins. “I should have asked first. I got carried away.”
“I’m glad you did it.”
