Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
Callum stills. He removes his hands from the fastening of my breeches, and flattens his palm on my bare torso.
“You don’t need to fear me,” he says, softly.
“I’m not afraid. I’m-” I exhale, realizing there is no use in trying to hide my emotions from him. “You can hear my heartbeat, can’t you?”
“Aye.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I can.”
“I’m sorry-“
“Turn around.”
I shuffle, the furs soft beneath my knees, and face him. He shifts to accommodate me between his thighs. He looks so huge and strong in the small space, his head almost brushing the fabric ceiling of the tent. His expression is soft.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
He brushes his lips against my knuckles, then presses my hand against his chest. His heartbeat thumps quickly, agitatedly, against my palm.
My eyes snap up to his. “You’re afraid?”
“I told you, you’re a fearsome creature.”
When I narrow my eyes, he grins.
“No. I’m not afraid. I am. . .” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “I am excited. Excited that I have you alone. But I’m nervous, too. I’m nervous that I will not please you. I’m nervous you will not share your emotions with me, and I will push you too hard. I’m nervous that I will scare you away.” He inclines his head at me. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me what it is that you fear.”
My pulse beats faster.
I am not used to sharing my emotions with anyone. I’m not used to people caring what I think, or what I want, or what feel. Yet this evening, I have already shared more than I have before in my life.
Callum lets the silence extend, stroking my knuckles with his thumb, his heart thumping beneath my fingers. The air in the tent is hot. Too hot. Stifling.
I swallow.
“I am scared,” I admit. “It is not because I fear you. I do not. It’s just. . .” I glance away, not quite able to meet his eye. “I have not done this before. I do not know. . . how to do it. I do not know what to. . . what to expect, or what is expected from me. It may not. . .”My cheeks flame. “It may not be very good for you.”
I expect him to laugh at me, but instead he raises my chin.
“I will not hide from you that I want you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first set eyes on you. I told myself I took you from the Borderlands because I needed you for the Heart of the Moon, but I think even then, I knew the truth. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you there. And I wanted you. Goddess, I wanted you. I’ve been like a lovesick pup since that moment. I think about you all the time. I want to make you smile, and make you happy, and to impress you.” He lets out a half-laugh. “I don’t usually make a habit of wearing breeches. I wore them because I thought you might like me in them.”
His eyes darken. “And, aye, I want to lose myself in you, too. I want to feel your warmth and your heat. I want to take my pleasure from you.”
His heart thumps quickly beneath my fingers, despite the stillness of his body.
“But I do not expect anything from you. Do not think that for a minute. And don’t apologize, nor think you could ever disappoint me. We will only do what you want, Aurora. We will take this only as far as you wish to take it. There is no rush.”
He smiles, and the pressure bearing down on me lifts. Yet the air in this tent does not feel any easier to breathe. It feels hot and thick and static.
“It’s just you and me now. We have all the time in the world.” He cups my face in his hand. “Tell me, what do you want, Princess? If you only want to lie down and go to sleep in my arms, I will still think myself the luckiest wolf in the Northlands.”
Warmth swells inside me.
What do I want? I have asked myself this question many times since I came to the Kingdom of Wolves. It was a question I never dared ask myself before I left with Callum.
And for the first time, it seems, I have an answer.
I want him. This. Us.
Still, I am lost. Inexperienced. Out of my depth.
“I do not want to go to sleep,” I tell him and a slow grins spreads across his face. “But. . . well. . . I do not know. . . specifically.” My cheeks feel hot.
He inclines his head gently, as if he understands. “How about I tell you what I want? And you can tell me whether or not you find it agreeable.”
I swallow, and incline my head.
“Good,” he says. “I want you to take off your shirt so I can see you.”
His eyes glint as he waits to see if I will do it.
I pull my hand away from his chest.
The smile dies from his lips as, slowly, I unfasten the buttons. His eyes track my every movement as I part the material, then shrug the shirt off my shoulders.
He makes a low sound in his throat, almost a growl. My breasts feel heavy, swollen, and my nipples harden at the approval that ripples from him in waves.
I expect him to touch me-I want him to touch me-but his arms remain at his sides. His biceps strain against his sleeves as if he’s restraining himself.
“Good.” He nods, and his voice is gruff. “Now, your breeches too. I want to see all of you.”
My breathing quickens, but I shift back. I take off my boots. I touch the already-open fastening of my breeches. He inclines his head.
I pull down my breeches and underwear, and shuffle out of them.
The wolf flickers behind his eyes. He swallows, his jawline hardening.
“Come here,” he says.
I move closer.
One of his hands cups my hip. His other moves to the back of my neck, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Now, I want you to kiss me.”
I lean forward, and brush my lips against his. He groans softly, before claiming my mouth with his.
His hand slides into my hair, his tongue moving in deep hot strokes against mine. His kisses are dominant. Powerful. Hungry. It is as if whatever control he has been keeping over himself is slipping, and the beast inside him has been set free. And I want it. I crave it.
I match his wildness with my own, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling his face closer. He groans, and my body melts into his. A jolt of pleasure surges through me as my nipples brush against his shirt. His hand moves lower down, cupping my bum and squeezing. I whimper.
He pulls back.
Despite my vulnerability, a thrill courses through me at the way he is looking at me. As though I am the only thing in the world. As though he wants to devour me.
He is holding back, his chest rising and falling deeply, his muscles tense.
I almost whimper.
I may be naked, but the alpha of Highfell is on his knees before me-waiting for me to give him permission.
“What do you want me to do next?” I ask, my voice breathy.
His jaw tightens. “I want you to lie down, and spread your legs for me.”
I breathe in sharply at the impropriety of what he’s asking me to do. A surge of heat floods me and makes it hard to think straight. My core throbs, aches.
I shuffle backward. I lie down on the furs and rugs, and rest my head on one of the cushions. All I can hear is my heart pounding in my ears.
Tentatively, I spread my legs.