Page 124 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

"Someone's eager," I said, catching her hands.

She looked up at me, and there was something wild in her eyes, something unleashed. "You said you wanted to devour me. So devour me, Zane. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not running. I'm right here, and I want—" She swallowed. "I want you."

Those words broke something in me. Whatever control I'd been clinging to shredded like paper.

I spun her around and pulled her back against my chest. My hands found the buttons of her shirt, undid them one by one—slowly, deliberately, while she trembled against me. When the fabric fell open, I pushed it off her shoulders and let it pool on the floor. My palms slid up her ribcage, over the soft lace of her bra, and she arched into the touch with a sharp inhale.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmured against her ear. "I've dreamed about this. About you. Every night for five years."

"Show me." Her voice was breathless. "Show me what you dreamed."

I turned her to face me, captured her mouth again while my hands made quick work of her jeans. She kicked them off, then reached for my belt, but I caught her wrists and pinned them gently behind her back with one hand.

"Slowly," I said. "We have all night, and I plan to take my time."

"Zane—"

"Shh." I walked her backward until her legs hit the bed, then guided her down onto it. She lay back, hair spread across the pillows like dark silk, chest rising and falling rapidly. The moonlight turned her skin luminous, carving shadows under her collarbones, in the dip of her waist.

I knelt between her legs, ran my hands up her thighs, felt her quiver under my touch.

I pressed my mouth to the inside of her knee and kissed my way up slowly. She gasped, fingers tangling in my hair.

"This is torture," she breathed.

"Good." I bit gently at her inner thigh and soothed it with my tongue. "You tortured me for three days. Turnabout's fair play."

"That wasn't—ah—" Her protest dissolved into a moan as I kissed higher, closer to where I could feel her heat, smell her arousal.

I hooked my fingers in her panties, dragged them down and off. She was bare before me, vulnerable and perfect, and the scent of her made my wolf surge forward, made my canines lengthen.

"Spread your legs," I said, voice barely human.

She obeyed, thighs falling open, and Christ—she was already wet, already ready for me. I groaned, pressed my face against her, tasted her with a long, slow lick that made her cry out.

"Oh God, Zane."

I held her hips down when she tried to buck up, used my tongue to explore every fold, every sensitive spot. She tasted like salt and need, and I couldn't get enough. I found her clit, circled it, then sucked gently, and her whole body went taut.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, I need—"

"What do you need?" I pulled back, looked up at her. Her face was flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure. "Tell me."

"You. Inside me. Now."

"Not yet." I slid one finger inside her and felt her clench around me. "You're not ready yet."

"I am, I'm—" She broke off with a whimper as I added a second finger, crooked them to stroke that spot inside her that made her see stars.

I worked her with my fingers while my mouth returned to her clit, and within minutes she was trembling, thighs shaking, fingers twisted so tight in my hair it almost hurt.

"Zane, I'm going to—oh God!"

"Come for me," I said against her. "Let me taste it."

She shattered, back arching off the bed, my name a broken cry on her lips. I worked her through it, gentled my touch as the aftershocks rolled through her, kissed her thigh while she came down.

When I finally pulled back, she was panting, looking at me with dazed eyes.