by Aline Hunter
Bridon swiped his tongue along her neck and, before she could protest, he moved down her body. He grasped the top button of her jeans, yanked it open, and released the zipper. Despite the tingles left over from his bite, she started to protest. A bite, some foreplay, and mutual sexual pleasure was A-okay. Sex, however, was not on the menu.
“You promised,” she said in a voice that was gravelly and coarse.
“I’m not breaking my vow.” He yanked her panties down along with her pants and cursed when he came to her boots.
“What are you doing, then?”
The hands on her jeans went still, and he nailed her with a look that promised he had more in store for her—a lot more. “We’re just getting started, love.”
Fates, it was impossible to turn away from him. His hair was messy around his face, his eyes now a steely gray. “Getting started?”
He began removing her boots, his motions rough. “I’m going to worship you until the moon rises once again. Before this day is done, you’ll know what it means to be loved. By the gods, you’ll never forget it.” He looked her in the eye once more as he removed her jeans and socks, baring her from the waist down. “You’ll never forget me.”
There was so much sincerity in his voice, so much need. She pushed the realization aside, despite the flutter in her chest. Unable to find a witty retort, she remained silent as Bridon removed her shirt before stripping away his own. He was as stunning as she remembered—nothing but hard lines, defined planes, and muscle. Any panic about the removal of his pants was forgotten when he licked the area around her navel.
Sighing in bliss, she rested back, basking in the feel of his chin against the vulnerable flesh of her stomach. Within moments, he continued on his trek, until his shoulders forced her thighs apart and his head was between her legs. He licked a trail up each of her thighs, starting with the right one before turning his attention to the left.
“I’m going to drink from you again”—he emphasized the precise location he intended to bite with a nip—“before we’re done. Then you’re going to show me how much you appreciate what I’ve done by giving me some attention of your own.”
Their gazes met as he stared past the valleys of her body. The glint in his eyes told her that the climax she experienced before was nothing compared to what he planned for her now. She swallowed hard, watching in anticipation as he dipped his head and brought his mouth to her sex, breathing just hard enough that the exhales from his mouth brushed against the lips of her pussy. She shivered, trembling when she felt the first touch of his tongue against her flesh.
Her head fell back as he repeated the motion, his tongue sliding deeply inside her cleft, moving from bottom to top. She moaned, rotating her pelvis into the wet swipes, needing more, knowing he would give it to her. With a growl he grasped her ass in his hands, bringing her closer to his lips, and began feasting on her like a starving man. She formed tight fists at her sides, longing to reach her hands into his hair and plead for more. The sensation of his tongue wasn’t enough, especially since he refused to move upward to her clit.
“More,” she gasped. He chuckled, continuing on as if he didn’t hear. His tongue ceased the deep strokes, becoming soft caresses against the outer folds. “Damn it.” She gave in to the temptation to touch his hair, sliding her fingers into the strands. “Don’t torture me.”
He gave her a lengthy lick and stopped, breathing heavily. “You have no idea what torture is. I’ve waited centuries for this moment. Now that the time has finally arrived, I’m going to taste you until I’ve had my fill.” Leveling her with a dark look, he warned, “I’ve got a length of rope in one of the bags, and I won’t hesitate to tie your beautiful ass down if I have to. Put your hands down, settle back, and let me finish. Don’t push me, Willow. You want this on your terms, and I agreed. Now you’re going to have to settle for what I’m willing to give you.”
“You cocky son of a bitch.” Despite the collar that continued to hold her wolf at bay, the alpha in her rose from within. Bridon Walkyr couldn’t tell her what to do. Tie her up? He was lucky she’d even allowed this sexual play to transpire.
She started to pull away from him, but he snagged her by the leg, keeping her in place. They began struggling, a tangle of arms, legs, and unleashed fury. If she’d had access to her wolf, it would have been a fair fight. As it was, she was unable to do more than pant and squirm as he flipped her over, placed his weight on her back, and reached for the bags.
“Don’t you dare!” she screamed, trying to break free.
“Oh, I’ll dare and more, sweet little wolf. Before the dawn, you will give me everything I want.” He leaned down until he was flush against her back and cooed into her ear, “And I’ll give you everything you demand in return.”
“Fucking bastard!”
She didn’t stop moving, despite the fact there was nowhere to go. He hoisted her hands above her head and forced the ropes around her wrists. Any softness she felt for him vanished, replaced by overwhelming fury.
“Fated bastard is more like it.”
When her hands were tied, he reached above her to a notch in the wall she hadn’t seen before. She went still, shocked as she came to the realization that during some venture to this cave someone had been kept prisoner. Bridon must have realized what she was thinking because after the rope was tied and she was unable to do more than tug at her arms, he brought his body over hers again and rested so that the outline of his cock pressed into the crevice of her ass.
“Not all people are trustworthy. The sun is a danger to us. It’s necessary to ensure those who travel in our presence will not attempt something foolish.”
“So you leash them to the walls?” She couldn’t mask the venom in her voice. Nor could she hide how turned on she remained despite it all. Situated as he was, he was in the dominant role, forcing compliance. Her nature responded to that.
“Nay, we reserve that treatment for those who are being sent to the place we are venturing to.” As soon as he said it, he went stock-still, as if he’d revealed too much.
“So you bring my kind here to kill us?” She was trembling with outrage and desire, two things that did not go hand-in-hand, fueled by the man who had her fully under his control.
She couldn’t see him, but she felt his short hair brushing along her back, as if he was shaking his head. “You’ll see. When we arrive, you’ll learn things that will change the way you view your entire race.” He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her nape. “You’re going to learn things about me what will change your opinion about everything that exists between us.”
As he crept down her body, she started struggling again. Her legs were free, but against the slippery material of the sleeping bags, she was unable to scramble away. He grasped her by the hips and forced her onto her knees. It was impossible not to think about the position she was in—on her knees, in a place of submission—the one that signified the ultimate mating between Lycae. She shuddered as she imagined Bridon sinking into her pussy as his teeth sank into her neck, claiming and marking her in all ways.
“Now,” he murmured, rubbing a tender hand along her ass. “You are at my mercy, love. Totally open and ready for whatever I want to do to you.”
Damn it. She didn’t want to moan when his mouth brushed against her labia; she didn’t need to cry out when his tongue returned to her moist depths. This was a dominant seduction, forcing her to comply with his wishes. Only a Lycae male had the authority to do such a thing. Still, when he began to lap at her, she was unable to bite back her whimpers or stop the proof of how he affected her as she became liquid against his mouth.
Her knees began to sway, her elbows rocking so violently, she was forced to place her head in the most subservient position imaginable. She rested her forehead against the triangle created by her arms, gnawing at her lips to mute the sounds coming from her throat. His lips retreated, and she tried to calm the erratic beating of her heart when she felt the tips of his fingers sliding ag
ainst her, becoming coated by the wetness left over from his mouth and her arousal.
“Easy,” he cooed as he continued slipping his fingers against her. “I promised we wouldn’t make love. I didn’t say anything about sampling what belongs to me.”
For some reason, she expected him to ease into her gently and press the tips of his thick fingers inside her inch by inch. Instead, he thrust them into her, parting her in a way that she’d never experienced before. She couldn’t stop her instinctive reaction to pain. Moving away as a sharp inner cramping seized her, she cried out. Bridon immediately withdrew his fingers, going still behind her. She gasped for breath, waiting for the question that was inevitable.
“No one has touched you.” He sounded stunned, and she immediately wanted to slap what she knew would be a shocked expression off his face.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
She could tell he was grasping for what to say. “How could I not be?”
Something inside her broke at those words, searing a wound inside her that she’d never thought Bridon Walkyr was capable of. Now she knew what he thought of her. Nothing more than an animal who fully embraced the lust brought on by the moon and fucked until the sun came up. It wasn’t any wonder he was so suave in his attempt to get her into the sack. The unworthy piece of shit thought countless males had plowed the field long before him.
“I am a Lycae princess, you conceited whorehound,” she snapped, despising how disgusting his obvious surprise made her feel—how dirty. “My purity belongs to the alpha Lycae who will bring strength to the pack. It’s a gift beyond measure. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t understand something of that magnitude.”
He didn’t respond, remaining silent and unmoving behind her. Then she felt the return of his touch, soft and tender, as he explored her carefully. The lust she felt was still there, but it was smothered by her outrage. She tried to move away, but he prevented it by wrapping his arm around her thighs, forcing her to remain on her knees before him.
“Let go of me, leech,” she snarled, yanking against the ropes binding her hands, embracing the burning sting as sharp edges cut into her skin. “Any deal we had is off.”
The fingers stroking her vanished, and she felt Bridon’s body come over her. His larger frame trapped her like a cage. All she could see were his hands above her head while all she could feel was his body pressed along her back. A Lycae princess—trapped, dominated, defeated. She would have screamed if he hadn’t been able to hear the agony at confessing such a thing, of allowing her voice to give credence to the misery and hatred she felt.
“I insulted you. I apologize. What I said was an honest reaction to something I never dared to believe.” When she started to snap at him, he covered her mouth, continuing on in a soothing voice that made her want to howl in fury. “It is a known fact that Lycae go into a mating heat during the final phases preceding a full moon. I automatically assumed something I never should have. I’m telling you now that I regret what I said. It wasn’t intentional. But I’m also going to tell you that in light of the revelation, the deal between us is most definitely not off. In fact…” He moved closer, until his lips brushed her ear, causing a shiver to race down her spine. “It means that I’m going to enjoy this day much, much more.”
Bridon felt Willow quivering beneath him and couldn’t detect if desire or anger caused it. At the present moment, he had too much of his own guilt to deal with. He was with his Fated, and he had her tied up like a randy barmaid who enjoyed rough play. When she said she had former lovers, she’d lied. She wasn’t at all the woman he thought—rutting with the other random wolves as the full moon came upon the horizon each month. She was something far more special, far easier to break. He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings. In truth, he hadn’t thought at all when he made the blank statement of fact.
Willow Miloradovic, the reincarnation of his Chosen and his Fated, was a maiden, untouched and pristine as the first winter snow. No other male had touched her, and no one would but him.
She was his alone.
Possessiveness slithered through him. He’d promised he wouldn’t claim her fully, but by the Fates, he planned to show her that his touch would be the only one that would bring her to ecstasy. Doing so wouldn’t be easy. She was already detaching from him, trying to shut down and fight the attraction Chosens felt for each other. Although he could see she still wanted release, the pain in her voice told him her pride wouldn’t stand for such treatment. She was a princess, revered above all others of her kind. If he was going to master her, it had to be equal grounding, on both their terms. Lucian might have been right about the need for aggressiveness, but Willow required a tenderness to go along with domination. He couldn’t simply take control; he had to prove he could be an understanding lover, giving as much as he received.
The moment he uncovered her mouth, she unleashed unholy hell. “Get off me, you fucking parasitic asshole. I don’t want anything to do with you. Not now, not ever. I let you go so far only because the moon is on the rise. Now that I know for certain what kind of ignoramus I’d be allowing to touch me, I’d prefer to take care of that little problem myself.”
Anger surfaced at the thought. Never again would she relieve herself of the lure of the moon. Not when he was ready and able to do it for her.
“Willow—”
“Go. Fuck. Yourself.”
He couldn’t stop the smile that emerged with her temper. Gods, but she was more than he had ever expected or deserved. Ian was right. Willow was nothing like Aislynn. Her fire proved her strong and capable of caring for herself. She wouldn’t be meek or shy, afraid or cautious. Although a wolf existed inside her, she was all hellcat. With sleek skin, shimmering eyes, and lethal claws that he wanted to feel scraping a path down his back.
Remaining above her, he maintained his balance using his left hand and brought his right to Willow’s arm. He skimmed his fingers past her rib cage and along her stomach. Her muscles flexed, revealing the tight tone of her body as he continued on his path, watching as she quivered beneath his touch. When he reached the smooth curves of her mound, he palmed her, eliciting a strangled gasp.
“I said to get the hell off me.”
“I said I was sorry, and I meant it.” It wasn’t difficult to part her with his fingers. Using the moisture rimming her pussy, he placed his middle finger between the swollen seam.
“Don’t.” Her plea was feather soft, revealing her uncertainty.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Let me show you how much.”
Slowly, he pressed his finger inside the crease, using smooth glides up and down. He kept his focus on the valley that wouldn’t cause her pain instead of giving in to the temptation to revisit the cradle that waited just inside. Her reaction wasn’t immediate. She continued trying to fight him until he began rubbing gentle circles around her clit, over and over again.
“You’re so soft here,” he whispered into her hair. “So delicate.”
Whatever she said was impossible to decipher. Thankfully, her body’s reaction was not. She became wet at his words, coating his fingers, making it easier to explore her fully. As he continued stroking her, he increased the focus on her clitoris, applying firm and purposeful pressure. He had tormented her before by denying that touch, knowing that once he began, it would be impossible to stop. However, after breaking the tentative truce they had embarked upon, he was determined to show Willow that he could be a generous lover when needed, giving her exactly what she wanted.
Gliding his fingers along her was torture, when all he wanted to do was to slip them inside the snug walls that would eventually welcome his cock. Soon, he would know what it felt like to feel her body beneath his as her hips rose up to greet his thrusts.
“I’m going to untie your hands, flip you over, and taste you again, Willow.” He bit her shoulder, causing her to moan, and began easing down her body. “When I do, you will not interrupt unless it’s to tell me if I do something you don’t like�
�—he paused over the indentions in her lower back and pressed kisses to each—“or to beg for more.”
She remained as she was, hands bound above her head, ass lifted firmly in the air. He removed his fingers from the velvety, warm heat between her legs and shifted until he could reach her hands. Within seconds, she was free. He rubbed her wrists between his palms, soothing the skin that was slightly raised. She kept her gaze down, watching as he continued, and then slowly lifted her head.
The instant he saw hesitation in her gaze, he captured her mouth in a soft, innocent kiss. There was no fight for dominance or control. Instead he feathered his lips across hers, keeping the contact light, the way a man would kiss a girl who had never been kissed before. After several seconds, she intensified the motions, pressing her mouth against his. When she relaxed, he turned her with his free arm, until they were chest to chest, and pressed her back into the sleeping bags.
This time when he released her mouth, he focused on the line of her jaw, kissing a path down her neck and across the thin collar resting against her throat. Next on his journey were her collarbones, followed by the pulse beating rapidly beneath her breast. He paused to study the nipples that were small, rosy, and pert. He’d been so eager to explore her before that he’d neglected the globes that were in perfect proportion to her body. Swiping his tongue around an areola, he brought his hand up to cover the other breast. He captured her nipple between his finger and thumb, rubbing the taut bead between them. She arched into his touch, closing her eyes. Her nipples pebbled as he teased her, the nubs becoming harder between his fingers and mouth.
Venturing away from her breasts, he skimmed his mouth down her stomach, flicked his tongue against her navel, and proceeded to the area he wished to be most. Willow’s unique taste would always taunt him, drawing him in, and he would always be hungry for more. When his mouth was directly over her pussy, he blew a soft breath against her skin. She writhed, wiggling from side to side.
