Unspoken words swirl in her hazel eyes, too, but when she slides her palms up my chest, gathering my t-shirt as she goes, all that matters is getting her naked. Tasting her. Burying my cock deep inside her.
I raise my arms and help her peel off my t-shirt. Her top is next. Her bra. Shoes get kicked off as our mouths meet, lips crashing together, tongues greedily plundering. Hungry kisses. Impatient kisses. A flurry of hands, hers and mine, unzip and tug at pants. If I could rip both pairs off, I would.
“Bedroom,” she says against my mouth when the last item of clothing is gone.
Scooping her into my arms breaks the kiss, but having her arms around my neck and her lips pressing kisses to my chest as I carry her to the bedroom are worthy temporary replacements.
Like the living room and kitchen, this room looks exactly as it did the last time I was in her apartment. Warm, light neutrals. Cozy textures. Vintage furnishings. Plants filling every inch ofthe low window ledge that runs the width of the room, and many more hanging from the ceiling at varying heights.
The same pale-green chenille bedspread that she once told me she would use until the last day—be it hers or the blanket’s—because she’d inherited it from her grandmother, someone she’d been very close to, covers the bed. And on the bedside table, a short jar of small, familiar stones.
We accumulated those together. Never intentionally looking. Just collecting them as they caught our eye from our rock, our hillside. Our place.
She claims to have become emotionally closed-off, but everything here shows how deeply she cares about the past. About preserving important memories. Her relationship and commitment to Hope and the baby prove her deep connection to the present and future. Whatever walls she’s erected to protect her heart haven’t affected how much love it still holds.
I lay her on the soft green blanket, part her legs, and settle at the bottom of the bed. Already at a full stand, my cock leaks precum at the sight of her glistening pussy. I draw a deep breath, groaning at the delicious scent of her arousal. “I’m going to devour your cunt, then I’m going to mount and rut you so thoroughly, you never doubt the truths and depth of our mate bond again.”
Her soft “mmm” as I drag my tusks up the inside of her leg is music to my ears. The first note of many she’ll make.
I draw her legs over my shoulders, looking up her beautiful body and meeting her eyes as I cup her hips and tilt them toward my waiting, watering mouth. “Pull me in. Squeeze me with your silky thighs. Smother me with your sweet cunt.”
Her back arches the instant my tongue slides through her wetness. Then her hands grip my ears and she does exactly what I told her—she pulls my face tight to her hot cunt.“Grüsh,”shemoans as I latch onto her clit and suckle. “God, Grüsh…” She comes instantly, her hips bucking wildly against my face.
“That was too fast,” I say, shifting her onto her hands and knees. “But it won’t be the last.” Kneeling behind her, I slide two fingers inside her, then reach around to massage her clit.
Her head falls forward, her body rocking against my fingers. “More.”
I don’t have to ask what more she wants. I haven’t forgotten what she likes. It’s all I know. All I want to know.
A throaty moan fills the air as I add a third finger. And when I tuck my thumb in and slide my hand into her cunt while rubbing her clit hard and fast, she comes again, collapsing onto her chest, her gorgeous peach ass raised. She whimpers at the loss of my fingers, humming and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth when I position my cock at her glistening, gaping cunt and push inside.
“Take all of me.”
“Give me all of you,” she pants as I enter her. “I want your rut, all of it.”
Watching my cock disappear inside her from this angle was always a trigger for me. It still is. Without the old denial, the rutting urge bellows inside me.
Claim. Cherish. Submit.
The words roll through my head as her cunt swallows the last inch of my cock, clenching and triggering my rut.
Claim. Cherish. Submit.
Not just mating words. Our mating words.
Gripping her soft hips, I thrust deeper, roaring as the rut takes hold. I fold myself over her, rolling her clit between my fingers. Biting her shoulder. My balls slapping her flesh as I mount her hard and fast.
“My mate,” I growl, erupting deep in her cunt.
She cries out, panting and moaning, her hips jerking against me, her cunt squeezing me, milking me, until there’s nothing left.
I roll to my back, tucking her alongside me, her leg covering mine, her head resting on my chest. “Was it too much?”
Her silky hair tickles my skin as she shakes her head. “No, it was perfect.”
“We are perfect together.” Lying together, arms and legs entwined, bathed in sunlight and the scent of our mating, knowing this is the beginning of the rest of our story, brings notes to my mind.
“What song is that?” Cate says, sliding her palm from my chest to the base of my throat, where the vibrations are strongest.
