Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
My cock is so hard it feels like it will burst. My sanity is slipping.
“Okay, baby. Hands on the ground. Fold all the way over, now.” I pull her hips back and make her take a step away from the boulder, so there’s room for her hands to drop to the foot of the rock.
Her legs are shaking hard, but I kick them wider and hold her steady to position her in a downward dog pike position. When I enter her from this angle, I get in deep.
She shrieks her pleasure. “Yes!”
“I know.” I grip her hips and bang her hard.
She bends her knees to brace against my thrusts, arching back, driving into me as I drive into her.
“Uhn. You feel so good,” I groan. I slap my hips against hers, loving the sound of flesh colliding with flesh. Loving the sight of this slip of a female arched to receive me. “I just can’t with this ass.” I slide my thumbs around to tug her asscheeks open again.
She cries out at the sensation. “Asher! Oh, Fate. Please! Please!”
I want to come inside her so badly, but, of course, it’s out of the question. I squeeze my eyes closed and meter breath through my nostrils to hold off. A little longer. I don’t want it to end.
Somehow my brain cobbles together a plan for us to orgasm together. I pull out of her and shove three fingers into her sopping channel, pressing her anus with my thumb. She climaxes hard around my fingers at the same time I fist my cock with the other hand and coat her beautiful ass with cum.
We both vocalize our release, our voices an offering up to the wind. To the silver moon. To the mountain.
I coax out another release and then another from each of us, waiting until the last one dies, and then shifting the position of my fingers to trigger the next.
When at last it seems we’ve both wrung out every last drop of ecstasy, I slide my fingers out of my beautiful mate and help her to stand. Her legs don’t hold her, though. She looks up at me, her eyelids flutter, and then she collapses against my body in a dead slump.
Chapter Twelve
Lotta
The scent of my mate.
Trees brushing against my skin.
Jostled movement.
The sound of running water.
I only catch snippets of consciousness until I find myself enveloped in warm water.
I crack my eyes open and blink, looking around. I’m in my bathtub. Asher crouches beside me, soothing the flush from my face with a cool washcloth. He fills out his worn, faded Wolf Ridge t-shirt in an indecent, delectable way.
Oh, Fate–the way he took me tonight. I turn my palms up to see if the skin is still torn from pushing against the rock.
It is. I haven’t healed yet. Something’s wrong with me.
My stomach rumbles.
“What happened?” I try to sit up. Try to take charge of the situation. I absolutely hate how out of control I feel around Asher. Because of Asher.
He puts two fingers against my sternum. With just those two fingers, he applies enough pressure to keep me firmly in place. “Don’t move yet. You passed out. When was the last time you ate?”
“I had dinner,” I say, but when I remember the meager serving of carrots and hummus I ate, I realize Asher’s probably right. All the shifting and the sex requires way more calories than I’m used to consuming. My blood sugar must’ve tanked.
“Why am I in the bath?”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to bed with my cum smeared all over your ass.” His voice is dry, but there’s a line between his brows, and the tenderness with which he applies the washcloth belies the gruffness.
Asher stands. “I’m going to go find you some food. Do not leave that bath.” He arches his brows in a sexy-stern way that makes me melt deeper into the water.
When did the boy-next-door become this huge, bossy man? It occurs to me that I don’t know Asher at all. I remember a defensive kid suffering in school because of an unstable home environment related to his dad. I took on the volunteer tutoring job to improve my chances of winning a scholarship to art school, and it was tough at first. He barely spoke to me the first semester I worked with him.
But I persevered. I worked with him three days a week. By Christmas, he’d leveled up in math, and the rest of his grades were above a C. But the real change was the trust that developed between us.
A trust I completely violated.
I lean my head back against the tile and close my eyes. Regret and pain wash over me. For someone who used to be a pack princess, my life is now a tangled mess.
The scent of butter and toast wafts in, and I sense my body’s relief. I’m going to be fed.