He stilled, and she could practically taste his satisfaction, “And what do you want?”
“You,” she said simply, no preamble, no games. “I want you to touch me.”
Arthur Wells was many things. But first and foremost, he was a man of action.
His hand slid up to cup her breast as the other deftly undid the button of her trousers, gathering the material and shucking it down her legs. She helped him, kicking them off, letting her thighs fall apart.
She may have imagined it, but his breath caught slightly as his thumb rubbed over one peaked nipple, the coarse material of her bra catching on her sensitive skin.
“Please,” she whispered, pushing back into him, rubbing her ass against his impossible length. His answering groan sentwetness straight to her core. He sniffed the air once, ever the wolf, and his scent grew dark with heady arousal.
Before she knew it, two fingers were pushing through her folds, gathering moisture from her wet heat before moving up again to rub expertly at the swollen nub at the apex of her thighs.
Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and her head fell back with a whimper. It wasn’t long before his movements grew bolder, his hand pulling the bra aside to roughly palm her naked breast, his fingers dipping in and out of her with strong, confident thrusts.
She writhed and moaned in his lap, a familiar coil tightening low in her belly. He snarled in appreciation as her breath became erratic, uneven, her pleasure building to a peak.
She came with a choked sob over his fingers, her muscles clenching around him, her thighs trembling and weak. She barely had time to remember her own name before he pulled them backward, arranging her so that she was straddling him, hands braced on his expansive chest as she ground down onto the tent in his trousers.
“Fuck,” he hissed, reaching down to free himself from the restraints of his clothes, “fuck, you’re even more beautiful now.”
Blossoming at the heat in his gaze, Dani lifted herself up onto her knees, rocking her pelvis to tease his hard length with her tight core, moaning as the engorged head bumped against her clit.
He hissed, grasping her hips tight enough to bruise. She didn’t care. She liked it.
With a trembling groan, she lowered herself onto his hard length, taking him inch by exquisite inch, practically gasping as her muscles stretched to accommodate his ridiculous size.
She could tell he was holding himself back, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused, his hands steady as she found a rhythm rocking up and down on him. Part of her wondered what would happen if he let loose, released the beast within.
The thrill of the thought made her clench, and he threw his head back and groaned, exposing the dark bite at the side of his neck.
Herbite.
Seeing it there, stark against his tanned skin, made whatever remnants of shifter blood within her howl in satisfaction.
He was hers. And she was his. As they reached their peak together, she clung tight to him, falling forward onto his chest, wetness at her eyelashes.
Later, when everything had slowed and gone quiet again, the cold rushed back. Arthur swore under his breath, manhandled the blanket over them, and hauled her in against his side.
“You’re going to get frostbite in very unfortunate places,” she mumbled.
“Worth it,” he said.
His arm was heavy around her waist, his chest a solid line along her back. Warmth seeped into her bones. The bond thrummed, low and steady.
She let herself lean into him, just for a moment. Rock under the blanket, scratchy wool, his heartbeat thudding under her ear.
“You all right?” he asked, fingers tracing circles on her shoulder.
“Not regretting it, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “Terrified. Tired. Overwhelmed. But…not regretful.”
His grip tightened. “Good,” he said quietly. “If you’d said yes, I’d have had to throw myself off the ridge.”
“Drama queen.”
“Alpha,” he corrected. “We’re known for it.”
She huffed a laugh against his throat.
