by Alana Hart
We continued to explore one another’s bodies. I was giddily delighted to discover that his nipples were almost as sensitive as mine, especially with a judicious application of teeth. Each little nip earned me a shuddering moan, his body twitching against mine, which was an interesting feeling in and of itself, with him inside me.
He continued to seem to find my neck fascinating, much of his attention centered there. As much as he was biting and sucking the thin skin there, I was certain I would be all marked up by the time we were done, but I didn’t care. I lifted my chin to give him even better access. I was his, if he wanted to leave his mark, that was fine with me.
He lowered his head, having to twist a bit, to reach my breast as well. As he sucked and gently teased with his teeth and his tongue, I felt another crest coming, and between that and the friction from below it didn’t take long before I was shuddering and shaking with the power of another orgasm. He slowed a bit as I rode out the wave of pleasure, but then picked right back up.
Gradual as it was, eventually his speed picked up until he was jerking his hips against mine, fast and hard, pushing deep inside me with each thrust. Now and then, when he went particularly deep, I had the oddest sensation, as though he were about to push right on through me into my throat from below; I knew that was both ridiculous and impossible, but that was how it felt.
As his need for restraint faded away, he began to growl almost constantly. He was like a wild animal, driven by the most primal urge of all. It was breathtaking, in both the literal and figurative sense; I was left gasping, struggling to breath, but it felt so good by that point, no more pain, just all-encompassing ecstasy.
It wasn’t long after he reached full speed that his thrusting began to grow somewhat erratic, a hitch here, a shuddering double-thrust there. Realizing what was about to happen, he began to pull out, but my hands, in pure instinct, flew down to his butt, trying to stop him from pulling away.
“Ada,” he groaned, sounding pained, “If I d-don’t stop now, I’m going to- to come, inside you.” He panted, with his jaw clenched; this was obviously costing him a great effort.
“Good,” I replied in a low growl of my own. There was no thought to it; if I had stopped to think I probably would have been appalled. It was all instinct, the wolf side of me completely dominant in that moment.
❖ ❖ ❖
He groaned deep in his chest, resting his head on my shoulder for a long moment, but his body’s demands won out over whatever thoughts he was struggling with. He began to move again, and his hips thrust fast and hard into me. I cried out loudly; he was rough enough now that it began to hurt again, but somehow that pain just made the pleasure that much more intoxicating. I knew I would not last long like this, either.
He leaned on one hand, the other finding my chest, teasing my nipples, kneading my breasts, switching from one breast to the other. Every shift and change built up my own pleasure.
My hands, in turn, roamed up and down his body, exulting in the feel of his muscles rippling and bunching under his skin. He was so magnificent, and he was mine. Without thought, I craned up, and bit his neck rather roughly, just as he had done to me earlier. He snarled, a sound that would have been terrifying under other circumstances, utterly inhuman; but he only pulled me more tightly against him, seeming to strain, as if he wanted to pound into me even harder, though I didn’t think that was physically possible. I could feel that delicious aching tightness building low in my belly again; it wouldn’t be long now, for either of us.
Then, abruptly, he threw his head back — dislodging me from his neck in the process — and gave a bizarre growling-groaning-howl, that sounded even less like it came from a human throat than the snarl had. He thrust once or twice more, shuddering, then remained buried inside me, as I felt myself flooded with heat from him, deep inside.
Teetering on the edge of the precipice as I was, that sensation combined with his throbbing deep within me, pushed me over the edge. My world completely disintegrated, swept away on a tide of pleasure so powerful I would have sworn a minute before it would not have been possible. It seemed as though every last nerve in my body exploded in a starburst of sparks. I lost all awareness of anything but the ecstasy, so intense it was nearly agonizing. This was the very pinnacle of experience; I was certain that if anything was more profound than this, it would be impossible to survive; my body would simply cease to function at all.
I have no idea how long I hung in that state of absolute euphoria, but eventually I regained awareness bit by bit. My own body was the first thing I became aware of; I was partially curled up, every single muscle in my body clenched tight. I realized after a moment that I was clenched around him, my nails digging into his back, my legs tight around his thighs and my toes curled so tight I was afraid my feet would cramp. I worked on slowly unclenching my body, relaxing each muscle in turn, though little aftershocks of pleasure swept through me, making my efforts almost futile.
He was still tense and shivering as well, I realized, feeling his trembling against me as my awareness expanded. Well, that made me feel slightly better, at least. As I regained control over my body, I began to place little kisses — in between my gasping breaths — on his chest, the only thing I could really reach at the moment.
As I felt his body slowly begin to relax as well, I looked up at him with a radiant smile.
❖ ❖ ❖
He shuddered with a breathy, drawn-out groan, and rolled onto his side next to me. He kept his arm tightly around me, pulling me with him, so that we ended up with my head pillowed on his bicep, his other arm draped around my waist, and our legs all tangled up together.
His hands moved slowly, stroking my hair and my back in short little motions. I extricated my upper arm, resting it on top of his, and smoothed his damp hair back out of his face. He returned my smile so tenderly it made my heart melt.
“I love you, Adalyn,” he murmured softly. I giggled faintly, not because it was funny exactly, but because if I hadn’t been sure of that, we wouldn’t be here now.
“I love you too, Bryson,” I finally replied, when he began looking faintly worried by my giggling. I leaned up to kiss him; our kiss was soft, tender, but with a spark of that passion still in it, like a promise.
We lay there together for some time, kissing and stroking one another, soothing each other down from the incredible high. He cradled me against him as if I were the most precious thing in the entire world; given how I felt about him, that was probably exactly accurate.
Eventually, he pulled back slightly, looking down into my face, his brows drawn together slightly, looking thoughtful, and his lovely warm eyes held a hint of uncertainty.
“So,” he began, trying and rather failing to sound nonchalant, “does this mean yes? That you wish to be my mate, to join the pack?”
I laughed softly, and nuzzled my face into his broad chest, savoring his clean, wild scent, reminiscent of the wolf even now.
“Yes, Bryson. I am yours. I always have been, I just didn’t understand that.”
He beamed at me, and leaned in, kissing me deeply again. I didn’t want him to ever stop, and I contented myself in knowing that in a broader sense, he never would.
Epilogue
I sat on my bench next to the blazing fire, watching it dip and dance. I ran my hand over the smooth wood with a smile; it had been a wedding present from Elijah, made with his own hands, since I had to spend so much time sitting here alone — for now.
It had been three years, now, since Bryson returned to my life, completing it; completing me. It had been a busy three years: we got married almost two years ago, and I graduated a year and a half ago. But my interval of waiting — both my intervals of waiting — were finally drawing to a close.
I listened to the sounds of my family, my pack, echoing through the night as they ran the woods, hunting for game. Tonight was a night to celebrate. A piercing howl, followed by a chorus of yips and lesser answering howls, told me they had had luck, and
soon we would feast. My heart began to race, wishing I could be there with them to join in the chase.
I moved my hand from the intricately carved arm rest, to the round mass of my belly. “Soon, my little love,” I crooned. Before the next full moon night, I would be bringing Bryson’s son — of course it was a son, all I had done when the doctor told us was roll my eyes — into the world.
The pack was beyond jubilant. I never had to so much as lift a finger for myself if I didn’t want to; and even when I did want to, as often as not I was scolded and told to relax and let someone else handle it. It was very sweet, but very odd, as well. It seemed like these evenings spent by the fire were the only time in at least six months that I had been permitted to be alone. Someone was always there, to make sure I didn’t so much as stub my toe.
At least Bryson was deemed as acceptable ‘protection’ for me — like making sure I didn’t “strain myself” by lifting anything heavier than a glass of water — so we did have time alone together.
Miss Madge, as well as several of the other females of the pack, had been sewing, knitting, or crocheting up a storm; he would be able to wear a different outfit every day without ever having to repeat for at least the first two or three years.
Madge had become like a second mother to me. Honestly, in many ways, she was closer to me than my own mother. I loved my mother dearly, but we had always been so different. Miss Madge insisted I might as well be a younger version of her, and I believed it. She seemed to understand me on an instinctive level as well, if not even better, than Bryson.
As I heard the triumphant cacophony erupt out in the forest, I smiled warmly. I was bound to my soulmate, soon we would be parents, and our son would give me the gift of his blood mingled with mine so that I would be able to join the pack as the wolf dormant inside me.
I could not imagine a more perfect life.
About the Authors
Alana Hart
Alana Hart is an American romance writer who decided that writing with friends is better than writing alone. Hartfelt Books brings together a huge group of sweet and steamy romance authors, collaborating on a new line of books that will have your heart pounding.
When she’s not skyping and sharing her latest collaboration on googledocs, she’s typing away in her local coffee shop with a hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and extra whipped cream, on hand. She claims it makes her happy ever afters that much sweeter!
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Jazzmyn Wolfe
Jazzmyn has been writing in one form or another for over 20 years, until finally finding her passion in creating steamy paranormal romances. She is an avid reader (when her muse gives her a few minutes off!) Lately she spends most of her time either collaborating with Alana Hart, or doing graphic design work on the side.
She lives in the Deep South of the US, with her loving spouse and two sweet and silly dogs.
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Romance collaborations from the Hart
Also in the SECOND CHANCES series.
The Swap by Alana Hart and Alana Claire – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B014RGHB8Q
Coming Soon:
Kiss Me Again, by Alana Hart and Emilia Beaumont
Only For Now, by Alana Hart and Mila Rose
Never Forgotten, by Alana Hart and Marlena Dark
Love, Rerouted, by Alana Hart and Mave White
Bearly a Chance, by Alana Hart and Sophia Barron
Lavender, by Alana Hart and Alyssa Alpha
The Bad Boy’s Back, by Alana Hart and Emilie Criss
Keep reading for an exciting excerpt from another book in the Alana Hart collaborations series.
The Swap by Alana Hart and Alana Claire
Ahem. Jenna's eyes snapped up from her intense work and she smiled upon seeing Darnell. "What are you doing dear?" Darnell asked as he stepped into the room.
"Oh, I'm sorting these papers. They need filed in different folders. Many are past documents, but it's always best to keep impeccable records. So that's all I'm doing," Jenna said and proceeded to explain what each pile represented.
So the two sat in the floor and reminisced about old times, laughing and chatting on and on. At one point Jenna paused and looked at Darnell. "About the other night..."
Darnell shook his head. "No need Jen. You had wine, it was a moment," Darnell tried to say.
"No, it was inappropriate. I guess I had a lot on my mind that day. Wine and fatigue don't mix. Plus running into you, well it sort of threw me for a loop," Jenna said keeping her eyes on the papers.
"Hey, stop." Darnell put his hand on Jenna's causing her to momentarily cease the paperwork. "It's okay. I suppose it needed to be said. And it's good we can talk about this out in the open."
Jenna smiled and withdrew her hand. "Okay. I won't beat myself up for asking it."
"Truth is, I've asked myself that same question. The answer is I honestly don't know."
"How could we know without turning back the clock? You moved off, I stayed here. Life went on. It just well, we never had closure," Jenna said as she shuffled through another pile of papers. It felt good to talk to Darnell about it even though it felt a little taboo at the same time. She could never bring this up with Will.
After that it didn't take much to keep encountering little moments, the almost moments, the pauses and deep looks into one another's eyes. The gentle brushes of their hands when working side-by-side kept the feelings electric between them.
Darnell couldn't help it. When Jenna walked up the hall he'd lean over to watch like he did so many years ago. She had a nice budding ass then and now she's like fine silver. He couldn't take his eyes off her even for a second. She turned out to be everything he ever thought possible and more.
Buy it now at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B014RGHB8Q
Coming soon…
The next series from HARTFELT BOOKS is HALLOWED LOVE
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