“Christ,” rasped Dante, knotting both hands in her hair. Just the sight of his mate with his c*ck in her mouth was enough to make him want to come. He didn’t though. He planned to come inside her, to fill her up with his c*ck and come, marking and claiming her all over again.
“Suck me deep, Jaime.” He growled when she swallowed him whole. “Fuck, baby, I love it when you do that.” Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard, rubbing her tongue along the underside each time. The feel of her hair over his thighs only added to the sensations. But feeling that she was enjoying doing this for him, enjoying tasting him and pleasuring him…not much could beat that. He tugged on her hair to lift her head. “I want to come inside you.” Jaime gave him one last lick before standing. As Dante, who was still lying down, tugged off her boots, she unsnapped the fly of her jeans and shoved them and her panties down to her ankles.
Dante helped her step out of them and threw them aside as she removed her sweater and bra and tossed them to join her other clothes. Jaime quickly got to her knees above his cock, letting the head dance between her folds. Suddenly Dante was again sitting upright, biting hard into her shoulder as he sank two fingers inside her.
“You’re already wet for me.” He curled his tongue around her nipple, suckling and nibbling.
Slowly he f**ked her with his fingers as he scattered kisses and bites from breast to breast. When she was moaning and squirming restlessly on his hand, he replaced his fingers with the head of his cock.
“I want inside that pu**y, Jaime.” With those words, he pulled her down forcefully on him, making sure she took every last inch.
Jaime cried out and arched her back at the sudden sensation of being stuffed and stretched.
That first deep penetration always hurt, but it hurt in the best way. She’d missed it.
Dante lay back again, loving the picture she made, na**d on his dick with her lips parted, her hair tousled, and her eyes drowsy and heavy-lidded. “Fuck yourself on me, Jaime.” That was fine with her. Gazes locked, bodies joined, Jaime repeatedly slammed herself down on him just as he raised his h*ps to thrust upward. His fingers dug into her hips, claws drawing blood and marking. She dug her own claws into his shoulders as she rode him hard, knowing he loved it.
When he suddenly tightened his hold on her and held her still on his cock, she growled in complaint.
“Tell me that’s my pu**y.”
She might have snorted at the possessive demand if she couldn’t sense the fear, anxiety, and insecurities still lurking in his mind. He needed to feel that she was irrevocably his, that she was going absolutely nowhere, and that she accepted every part of him—even the controlling and possessive streaks. “It’s yours.”
“Good girl.” He bucked his hips, ramming his c*ck into her once. “Tell me that you’re not going to leave me again.”
“I won’t leave.”
Again he rammed into her rewardingly. “Have you missed this?” She nodded, but when he went to thrust up into her again, she shook her head. “Wait, let me up.”
His hands flexed possessively on her hips. “No.”
“Let me up. I have a surprise for you.”
Intrigued, he felt his lips curve into a smile. “A surprise, huh? Okay, go get it.” He expected her to dash to where her clothes lay and take something out of one of her pockets. Instead, she simply got to her feet and turned. And that was when he saw it. Stunned and amazed, he drew in a sharp breath. Just above the small of her back was a miniature but detailed phoenix with its wings outstretched. Across the wings and body in fancy, bold, italic ink was his name.
“It was supposed to be a surprise for the night of our mating ceremony, but we kind of missed that. I hope you like it, Popeye, because that’s the closest you’ll ever get to having your name tattooed on my—” She broke off as she felt a tongue flutter along the design.
Drawn to the tattoo like it was a magnet, Dante repeatedly danced his tongue over it. He couldn’t believe she’d done this for him. It was so f**king hot seeing his name right there. Yeah, okay, it meant he was probably unhealthily possessive to be so turned on by the sight of his name on his mate’s skin like a brand, but so what? She accepted him as he was, cared for him as he was, and that was all that mattered to Dante. “I absolutely love this, baby.” Jaime cried out as the two strong hands that were clamped on her h*ps tugged her to her knees and then pulled her roughly down onto a long, thick, rock-hard cock. Just like that, she was stuffed full again. When she tried to ride him, he locked his teeth on her shoulder in sexual warning.
“No, baby, I’m in control here.” He raked his teeth over her shoulder in a dominant move that dared her to rebel. Of course his Jaime rebelled. She bucked against the move, growling. He dug his teeth harder into her skin and reached around, cupping her br**sts roughly and pinching her ni**les.
Again she tried to dislodge his teeth, and he sensed that it was her wolf as much as her who was rebelling now. Whereas once her wolf might have done it out of anxiety, she did it now only to challenge him playfully. The thought of that made him smile around her shoulder. He knew just how to deal with her wolf.
Jaime growled as Dante’s hand snaked around her throat and squeezed. “You sack of shit.” She gasped as he bit her ear.
“You love it when I hold you like this. I know you do, because your pu**y ripples around my c*ck every time I do it.” With one hand collaring her and the other still locked on her hip, he moved her body up on his c*ck and then slammed her down, groaning. “Like that? Want me to do it again?”
“Yes,” she bit out, pissed that he was right and she perversely liked the dominant move. Again and again he impaled her on him until she felt her cl**ax approaching. Then he stopped.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” she growled.
“How bad do you want it?”
Not bad enough that she was going to beg again, if that was where this was heading. Okay, in truth, she would beg if she had to, but a female had her pride. As she knew from experience, there were effective ways to distract Dante. She made a show of sniffing the air and asked in an animated voice, “What’s that smell? God, was that you? Well, it wasn’t me.” Knowing what she was doing, Dante flexed his hand around her throat. “Jaime.”
“Did I remember to tell you that I got worms from the cat? Poor Hunk.”
“Jaime.”
“This would be more fun with a few more people, wouldn’t it?” That got a reaction from him, joke or not. Growling, he slammed her down on him and moved the hand on her throat to her hair. He snatched her head back so that he could see her face. “No one touches you except me, Jaime. No one.” Over and over he impaled her on him, driving his point home. He continuously flicked his gaze from the sight of his name branded on her flesh to her beautiful face to watch the range of expressions that flashed across it. She moaned, groaned, whimpered, and grunted, clawing his legs. He knew exactly what she liked, knew how fast and hard and deep she liked it. “You’re mine and only mine.”
“And you’re mine, you possessive, overprotective, controlling bastard.” He smiled. “All yours, baby.”
As she felt her orgasm ready to wash over her, Jaime moaned, “Dante, I love you.”
“Fuck.” Those words sent white-hot pleasure scorching through his body and brought his cl**ax crashing into him. “Come, baby.” He locked his teeth onto her shoulder again and thrust his hips, jamming his c*ck up into her. Her pu**y tightened and spasmed around him as she screamed his name.
When he could finally move again, he combed his fingers through her matted hair. “I love you too, baby.”
She smiled. “Good, Popeye. I’d hate to have to get that tattoo lasered off. It hurt enough getting it done.”
He locked both arms around her. “The tattoo stays, it’s hot. Want me to get your name inked on me?”
She opened her mouth to say no, but she’d be lying if she said her name on his skin didn’t hold some appeal. God, she was getting as bad as he was.
“How about on my arm?”
“No. That’s boring.”
“How about over my heart then?”
“No. That’s corny.”
He frowned. “Is not.”
“Is too.”
Stubborn bitch. “We’ll discuss it later.”
Jaime turned her head as she cautiously suggested, “How about we go for a run in our wolf forms?” As she’d expected, Dante froze and tightened his hold on her.
“Jaime, I don’t think your wolf is ready for that yet.” He wasn’t ready for that yet either.
“There’s only the two of us. She feels safe with you. You said that yourself.” His voice came out small. “What if she doesn’t let you come back again?”
“Don’t think I don’t know that the fear of that taunts you as much as it taunts me. I don’t want it hanging over us like a cloud. We won’t know until we try.”
Although he knew that she was right, he was too damn scared to even seriously consider it.
“Jaime, I—”
“I truly think she’ll let me come back. The fear is there that I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.” Plus, it was best to find out now.
It took an entire hour to coax Dante into trying it. Jaime was later glad that she had, because it turned out that she had been right. As her wolf and Dante’s wolf went on their own private run, they played, tussled, raced, and chased each other before finally shifting back into their human forms.
Although her wolf had enjoyed the freedom and time with her mate, she didn’t fight when Jaime wanted to resurface because she felt safe. She was confident that her mate could protect her if necessary and that he would fight at her side.
Jaime suspected that her wolf might still be slightly wary around other wolves if she was without her mate, but not to the extent that she would see them as threats and attempt to attack. Jaime could—for the first time in a long time—coexist peacefully with her.
“If only I could coexist as peacefully with you as I do with my wolf,” Jaime said as they walked back to pack territory hand in hand.
Dante frowned at her. “We coexist peacefully…when you’re not making a mess of our room and ignoring what I say.”
“Maybe you could stop being a neat freak and ease off with barking orders at me.”
“I resent the neat-freak statement. And I do not bark.” She snickered. “Sure you don’t, Popeye.”
“And it wouldn’t kill you to use the shoe rack. I mean, it’s right by the door.”
“Stop putting my CDs in chronological order, and I’ll work on the shoe rack thing.” A short pause. “How about alphabetical order?”
“How about you go to therapy?”
A frustrated growl escaped him. “How about I just shove my c*ck in your mouth? That should shut you up. Hey!” he whined when she drummed her fingers against his temple. “What’re you doing?”
She shrugged. “I just felt like tapping some ass.”
His mouth dropped open. Her smirk had him growling again. “Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you, Popeye.”
THE END