“Yeah, baby. My. Fucking. Wife. My life. You feel so fucking good.” I growl as my climax hits and I spill inside her, burying my face into her throat, sinking my teeth into the mark I’ve already made as her pussy contracts around me over and over and fucking over. Heaven.
Regardless of the words she says to me, her eyes, her scent, her body’s reactions tell me the truth. Those are what I’ll be paying attention to as I work to gain her trust, until her words are no longer the lies she tells to protect herself.
We’re holding one another tight, and I’ve moved a few feet back so I can rest my back against a tree. She’s still on my lap, straddling me with my cock still inside her, my fist full of her soft hair. “That was fast. But it was just an appetizer,” I say, touching her skin with my lips.
Something wet hits my shoulder. She sniffles.
I use her ponytail to gently pull her face back so I can see it.
She tries to hide in my throat.
“Amie?”
“Don’t,” she whispers.
“Why are you crying?”
“Fuck off.”
I swallow. She hurts. She’s in pain. Deep emotional pain.
“What is it, baby?” I ask, lips touching her head.
She shakes her head and continues hiding from me with her face buried in my throat. I wrap her up tighter in my arms.
“Talk to me.”
She shakes her head but burrows deeper into me. Me holding her comforts her, I feel it.
“It’s my job as your mate to hold you when you need it, to fix things when you cry. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Then take me to see my sister like you promised.” She sniffles again.
“Okay, wildberry,” I whisper, kissing her again. “But you can talk to me.”
“No. I can’t.”
I swallow and wait.
She’s pulling herself together emotionally. She was emotionally moved by our fucking. By my words? I guess both.
Yeah, Amelia Quinn. I’ve got my eye on you. I’m gonna fix whatever is broken in you, too.
“Up we go,” I stand, lifting her by her hips and setting her on her feet, then I squat and help her into her panties. She holds my shoulder while she lets me do that. I pull her jeans on her too and then rise, fasten them, and kiss her on the mouth – a mouth that’s currently being chewed while she’s watching me dress her bottom half. I then put her shoes on her feet, dust the dirt off my legs and my backside.
“Too bad you can’t magick your way into clothing after you shift,” she remarks as we climb the hill back toward the road.
“Why?” I tag her hand and help her the rest of the way up. I don’t let go of her hand when we get to the road, and she doesn’t try to pull it out of my grip.
“Then you don’t have to walk around naked after you turn back into a guy.”
“I don’t care about my nudity.” I lift her hand and kiss it while we walk.
“Alrighty.”
“Good thing I’m mated to a human, though. Wouldn’t be happy if you had to walk around nude after shifting.”
She smiles, but tries to hide it by chewing her lip. A moment later, she asks, “What does shifting feel like?”
I ponder this.
“Does it feel strange?” she asks. “Do you have human thoughts when you’re a dog?”
“Wolf. Not dog.”
“Wolf. Dog. Same difference.” She shrugs.
I snicker. “Not the same.”
“Whatever,” she smirks. She’s trying to push my buttons with the dog comment. “What does it feel like?”
“So you do have questions.” She’s full of questions today despite yesterday’s act that she was uninterested in all things shifter.
She shrugs.
“It’s what I am,” I tell her. “I don’t know what it feels like. It’s always been like this.”
“Oh.”
“When I’m wolf, I’m wolf. When I’m man, I’m man. Do I have man thoughts as wolf? Yes. Do I have wolf thoughts as man? Also yes. This is just… me.”
“Ohh-kay. Thanks for clearin’ that up.”
“In most packs, alphas are the rarity. In ours, super-alphas are the rarest, only seven born each generation. And we’re more in tune with our animal sides than most shifters. Heightened senses. Strengths,” I explain.
She says nothing and we walk for a moment in companionable silence. I can’t imagine living in that concrete jungle with the fake grass and other homes so close that you can smell and hear everything happening inside everyone’s walls. It would drive me half-mad.
Amelia’s stomach growls.
“Breakfast before we go,” I say.
“No. I want to just go. Right after I change my pants and underwear. You’ve left me a little… soggy.”
“I need food, wildberry. I woke and immediately came to you. And you need food, too. Your belly is askin’ for it.”
“Grab something to go then. Eat it on the way.”
“We’ll go home, and I’ll get dressed, eat first.”