Ground yourself in the here and now. In this beautiful woman you’re in love with.
My hands are fucking shaking as I open her bodice to reveal her undershirt. I’m fucking trembling, like some virginal hero in a love storybook. Far from it, but damn, I’ve fantasized aboutthis. I want it to be good, perfect for her, and as for me, I can hardly believe this is finally happening.
I push the dress off her shoulders, and she shrugs it off. Her chemise is fine white cotton, and fuck me… it molds to her magnificent breasts, outlining their shape and her dark nipples.
My mouth gone dry, I lift my hands to her face, tracing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, her brows, then I let my fingers trail down her neck to the neckline of her chemise. I whisper an apology I don’t feel as I tear it apart, baring her torso.
Fuck yeah, so damn pretty.
Then I pull down her underpants, and she steps out of them, only wearing her stockings and shoes. The dark triangle between her thighs matches her hair and the dark coins of her nipples, and holy fuck, she’s so perfect.
Her hands curl at her sides, breasts rising and falling fast, nipples puckering into hard points. Her eyes are downcast, long dark lashes shielding them.
“More beautiful than my wildest fantasies,” I whisper, feeling fucking awestruck, like every time I see her naked.
“But, my scars,” she breathes.
I trace them with my fingertips—over her chest, over her thigh. At the corner of her mouth. “So beautiful. So very godsdamn beautiful, Princess.”
Tears slip down her cheeks, and I gather them with my fingertips, kiss them, lick them off her skin. I kiss her face, her eyes, her temples, her neck.
Can’t get enough of her.
Finally allowed to touch, I slide my hands over her breasts, feeling their roundness, their softness, the hard peaks of her nipples. A growl is rising deep in my chest. My knot and balls are heavy, my cock unbearably hard. Instinct pushes me to bend her over and enter her, fill her up. Make babies with her.
Mate. My mate.
Holding myself back is a fucking torture. Touching her is another kind of torment, one I crave. I wrap an arm around her back and haul her to me, my teeth sharpening, aching to bite and mark her.
“Valen?” she whispers, a tiny sound that pierces me.
“Scorching hot,” I whisper back. “You’re killing me, Princess. No woman could ever hold a candle to you. No other woman exists apart from you.”
I slide down to my knees, pulling her down with me, and I lay her on top of her discarded dress on the hay. A makeshift bed.
“I thought you’d simply touch me,” she says softly, her eyes wide when I bow over her. “Like I touched you in the woods.”
“I don’t have to touch you with my hands only. My mouth misses your skin. My tongue misses your pussy. I’m missing what I have never tasted but have been desiring since I met you.”
“Is that a wolf thing?” she breathes. “Wanting to use your mouth on me?”
“That’s what desire is like, Beautiful. You used your mouth on me, remember? Why did you?”
She swallows hard, her blue eyes luminous. “I was curious about what you’d like. What you’d taste like. What would make you… lose control.”
“So candid. And so successful. I have lost all fucking control when it comes to you.” I grin down at her. “I’d crawl for you. Beg. Plead. I need you more than I need air to breathe.” I bury my face in her neck and inhale, then kiss and nibble on her skin. She gasps when my sharp teeth graze over her tender skin. “Mine…”
I trail kisses down her neck to her breasts, and finally, I get to feast on them.
I toy and play with her nipples, licking, sucking, lashing them with my tongue, letting the barbel hit their hardened tips until she’s squirming and writhing underneath me. Her scent of arousal increases, perfuming the air.
My breaths are coming hard and fast. I’m so fucking erect, my knot so fucking swollen, I’m in agony. I inflicted this torture on myself, worshipping her body, yet not permitted to push into her heat, not allowed to rut and find release.
Pleasure denied is pleasure heightened if you hope it will come, and I hope. I have to keep hoping.
I bite lightly on her nipple, and she squeals. The horses in the stalls around us stomp their hooves and snort. They don’t like my scent on the best of days. Now we’ve added the smell of sex. No wonder they’re uneasy.
I soothe the hurt, suck on her other nipple, and finally, slide a hand down her quivering belly, over the dip of her bellybutton, and lower. Her dark curls are damp, and when I slide my hand between her legs, parting them, I find her soaking wet.
