The need won.
“Yes,” I gasped, my hips rocking shamelessly against his hand. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you. Just… please. Let me come.”
“Not yet,” he said, and the casual finality in his tone was a new kind of torment.
He withdrew his fingers. Before I could protest at the sudden loss, his other hand was in my hair, fisting the strands, and then he was yanking me up.
My head was spinning.
He maneuvered me with an easy strength, turning me around and pushing me to my knees in the damp earth. I looked up at him, my vision blurry, my body thrumming with unspent need. He loomed over me, a dark silhouette against the forest green, his chest heaving, and his eyes burning with a hunger that made my own blood sing.
He opened his trousers.
His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, curving up toward his stomach. The head was flushed a dark red, already beaded with moisture. He wrapped a hand around the thick shaft, stroking once, slowly, and then again as I watched.
I’d seen him naked before, but never like this. Never with me kneeling before him on my knees waiting for whatever was to come next.
Never with me as his mate.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I did. I couldn’t look away. It was almost like his gaze had a gravitational pull all of its own and there was nothing I could do to break its spell.
“Open your mouth.”
My lips parted without conscious thought. He stepped closer, the head of his cock brushing against my lower lip. He tasted of salt and musk and pure, unadulterated male. The scent of him, potent and real, made my head swim.
“Suck,” he ordered, his voice a low growl.
I leaned forward, closing my lips around him. He was hot and thick in my mouth, the velvety skin sliding over my tongue. I hollowed my cheeks, suckling gently, and hegroaned. His fingers threaded through and tightened in my hair, sending a fiery thrill of desire straight through me.
He didn’t let me set the pace.
He took control.
He began to move, a slow, shallow rhythm that tested my gag reflex. His cock slid deeper, pressing against the back of my throat. Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn’t pull back. I relaxed, letting him in, wanting more. My own need was a desperate, clawing thing, my clit throbbing in time with the thrusts into my mouth.
“Look at me,” he growled again.
I looked up, my eyes watering, my lips stretched wide around him. The sight of him—head arched back, jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in his throat—was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.
And I was the one who had brought him to this state.
He tightened his grip on my hair, holding me still, and then he fucked my mouth in earnest. Hard, deep strokes that stole my breath and made me dizzy. The salty taste of him intensified, and I knew he was close. The thought of him coming in my mouth, of swallowing him down, made a rush of slick heat flood my core.
He pulled out abruptly, leaving me gasping.
“Greedy little mate,” he rasped, smacking my cheek with his wet cock, not hard, but with an audible slap that made my skin flush. The gesture was so possessive, so crude, that it sent a jolt of heated desire straight through me.
“I’m not greedy,” I panted, trying for defiance and managing only a breathy, needy whine. “I’m… efficient.”
He laughed darkly. He gripped my hair a bit tighter, tilting my head back. “Is that so?” he murmured, rubbing the tip of his cock over my lips, my cheeks. “And what, exactly, are you trying to be efficient at, Tamsin?”
“Making you come,” I whispered, my cheeks burning red hot.
He shuddered, a guttural groan tearing from his throat.
“Please,” I begged, my hips rocking, seeking friction I couldn’t find. “Griff, please, I need you to come.”
