Page 209 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Thane… I want you to be first."

His eyes meet mine again, confused now.

"I want you to be the first to mark me."

Chapter 44

Thane

I've forgotten how to fucking breathe.

Ivy's impossible words have stalled out my brain. The zombie movie keeps droning on through the tinny speaker hooked to the window as she grins at me.

I press my forehead to hers and reach up to caress her cheek, tucking her dyed brown hair behind her ear.

She catches my hand and presses my palm flat against the scar on her shoulder. The raised tissue is smooth and warm beneath my fingers, slightly silky to the touch, and she shivers at the contact, her ocean eyes never leaving mine.

"You're sure," I manage.

"Thane." She pulls back just enough to look at me, and her grin turns wicked. "If you ask me one more time, I'm going to bite you first."

I believe her.

She's a feral little thing wrapped in a green dress, straddling my lap with the strap already slipped off her shoulder, baring the exact place she wants my teeth.

I lose my last thread of restraint.

My hands find her ass through the thin green dress and pull her down harder against me. The seam of my suit pants is the only thing between us now, that and whatever scrap of fabric she's wearing underneath, and I can feel the heat of her through all of it.

She's already soaked.

The pack alpha I'm supposed to be evaporates. For a moment, I'm just an alpha with my mate in my lap, scent-matched and slick and asking me—begging me, practically—to mark her.

"Fuck," I grit out. "Get this off."

I tug at the strap of her dress with the hand still on her shoulder.

She arches back and reaches behind herself, sticking her tongue out a little as she wrestles with the zipper. I help her with it, fighting to keep my hands steady so I don't tear the fucking thing off. The green fabric loosens and she shimmies, pushing it down her arms, baring herself from the waist up in the blue glow of the projector light.

She's perfect, her skin lit silver-blue, the burn scar on her left shoulder shimmering in the light like polished pearl. My hands span her ribs and my mouth goes dry. Her heartbeat's hammering as hard as mine.

"Thane," she whispers, biting her lip.

Like she's daring me.

I bend and take her breast into my mouth.

She gasps, her hands flying to my hair, fingers tangling in the longer strands and gripping hard. The little hitch in her breath sends a bolt straight to my cock. I work her with my tongue, slow and thorough, and her hips grind down against me in stuttering, increasingly frantic circles.

"More," she pants. "Thane, I need⁠—"

I wrap one arm around her waist, the other working at my belt, the buckle, the button, the zipper. There's no time for this shit. I need inside her like I need to breathe.

She reaches between us and finishes making short work of my belt. Her hand wraps around my freed cock and I nearly come right then.

"Ivy." Her name comes out of my mouth as a warning growl.

"Sorry." She isn't. Her grin is pure mischief as she strokes me with one hand and hooks a finger in the side of her underwear with the other, dragging it aside. There's no room to take it all the way off, not in this position, and not in the front seat of my car. We're both half-dressed and frantic, and it's almost comical.