I reach for the bar of soap on the bank, lathering it between my fingers until they glisten. When I press my fingers against her entrance again, her body yields more easily now, accepting both digits with a shudder that travels visibly up her spine. The sound that escapes her throat makes my cock twitch.
With my free hand, I work the slippery soap along my length, never taking my eyes from where her teeth catch her bottom lip, my erection throbbing with each heartbeat.
I lift her knees higher, positioning myself against that untried entrance. The pressure as I press forward draws a sharp intake of breath from her lips, forcing me to pause, jaw clenched, fighting for control. Her body grips me like a vise, and for a moment, all thought dissolves into white-hot sensation.
Aurelia’s head falls back, a moan escaping her lips as her fingers drift downward. Before she can reach her destination, I capture her wrist.
Her eyes flash open, meeting mine. I replace her hand with my own, feeling her hips buck against my touch as I trace slow circles, her pulse visibly fluttering at the hollow of her throat.
I slide in deeper, then pull back out. “You feel fucking amazing. Look at you—so perfect.”
She reaches up to play with her nipples, and the whimper that escapes her lips sends a jolt straight through me. I can see how my words affect her, how they make her arch and tremble beneath me.
I slide the tips of my fingers into her pussy, but she’s too tight for me to go much further. I stroke her inner walls while my thumb circles her clit, all while I’m still moving inside her ass, watching her face contort with each new sensation.
Finally, my vision blurs at the edges, muscles tensing as heat pools low in my spine. I can’t take it anymore. It’s way too much.
I grip her thigh, yanking myself free with a groan that tears from my throat. My release paints hot stripes over her pussy and her lower stomach.
She hardly seems to notice, eyes shut tight and body trembling as she rides out her own orgasm.
Before I know what I’m doing, something primal takes over—my fingers move of their own accord, dragging through the mess on her stomach before I shove them into her cunt.
I watch my fingers slide deeper, pushing my seed into her. Dangerous. Reckless. Intoxicating. It’s unlikely to result in anything, but not impossible. The thought sends a jolt through me, hot and electric.
Aurelia’s gaze drops to where my fingers press into her, her pupils dilating until only a thin ring of color remains. Her breath catches, lips parting. She doesn’t stop me.
Satisfaction roars through me. I know I should stop, anyway, but I don’t.
Something ancient and possessive unfurls in my chest, burning through my veins like wildfire.
She’s mine.
Not just tonight. Not just until we go home.
She’s mine, always.
Fox’s wooden sword clacks against a child’s blade as he demonstrates a blocking technique for the fifth time. The child can’t seem to get the footwork right, but Fox is surprisingly patient.
Or, maybe it’s not so surprising.
Clearly, he’s good with children. Probably because he grew up around so many of them.
Having children isn’t something I’ve ever really considered for myself, and certainly not having more than one or two at most. I didn’t grow up with siblings and neither do most Fae, but now I can’t stop imagining it.
More specifically, I can’t stop imagining the unique way the shifters manage to have so many children, and every time I think about it my entire body flushes scarlet. Fox keeps glancing overfrom where he’s practicing with all the little wolves and shooting me concerned looks. I probably look like I have a fever.
There’s only one day left until my birthday, and earlier this morning Kai told us that we’d have to leave by midnight tonight to reach the palace in time for their planned meeting with the queen’s servant. Evidently, it will take a long time to get there, and even longer since I can’t transform into a wolf to run like the rest of them.
Even knowing I’m mere hours away from the whole reason I came here in the first place, I can’t seem to get myself to focus on it. Instead I keep thinking about other things—like children, and knotting, and how my feelings are a jumbled mess that I can’t even begin to make sense of.
With a frustrated huff, I distract myself by unsheathing my sword and moving stiffly through a round of drills. I’m beginning my third repetition, when a chorus of growls ripples across the field.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and I pivot, scanning the field for whatever caused the disturbance. At first I don’t see anything. Then I realize that many of the wolves nearest to me are peering up at the mid-afternoon sky.
I look up, squinting into the sun, just as a dark mass hurtles through the clouds, growing larger with each heartbeat.
Fox reacts to my sudden tension and turns to look as well. He drops his wooden practice sword and reaches for his real one instead.
