Filed to story: My Kidnapper Is the Wolf King
“I thought. . . I thought that was how Wolves. . .” My cheeks flame. “I thought that was how you did it.”
He smiles, though I am glad he doesn’t laugh at me. “Sometimes,” he says. “But I want to be face-to-face with you tonight.”
Kissing me softly, he guides himself to my entrance.
He holds my gaze slowly as he pushes. He groans as he fills me.
There’s a pinch of pain, and I tense. He feels impossibly big. I do not think he fits. My heart is beating fast.
He stills, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of my head. He’s breathing hard, his biceps clenched. His expression is strained.
I wonder why he isn’t moving, whether he expects me to do something-but then, as he waits, my body starts to adjust to him. He moves slowly, and the pain transcends into something else. Something unfamiliar. Something I want more of. Pressure, and friction, and the feeling of being completely filled.
“Oh,” I say softly.
My body relaxes, then tenses again in an entirely different way. My breathing becomes steadier, then faster. I grip onto his shoulders, sinking my fingers into his muscle.
As if sensing the change in me, he pushes fully inside me. A growl builds in his throat as I cry out.
His hand slides into my hair, and he claims my mouth with his as he rolls his hips again. Moaning, I open myself fully for him, hooking my hands around his neck and pulling him closer.
He dips his mouth to my throat, where he kisses and sucks and nibbles.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” His voice is strained as he murmurs into my ear. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
I slide my hands down to his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. His skin is hot and damp, and I feel the restraint rippling through him.
Even now, he is holding back. Afraid I will break. Afraid he will scare me away.
I grab his face. His jawline is taut and the wolf flickers in his eyes.
“I will not break,” I whisper. “Take what you want from me. I want to give it to you.”
“Rory-” His voice is strained.
“Take it.”
I sink my teeth into his bottom lip-determined to provoke that primal side of him. Determined that he will take what he wants from me, what he needs.
He growls, and he plunges into me. Hard. I cry out.
“Fuck.”
He curls his fist into the cushion by my head. “Sorry.”
“Take it,” I growl.
I tilt my hips to take him deeper, desperate for more of him, and slide my hands down his back-urging him further inside.
He groans and I feel his submission. His shoulders relax beneath my fingertips; his expression changes from restrained to hungry. The wolf glows behind his eyes.
“I told you you were a demanding, fearsome creature,” he whispers.
“You also told me you would give me what I want.”
He thrusts into me, hard and deep.
Goddess!
He groans loudly.
I hook my legs around his waist, curling my ankles around his back, and he takes me deeper still. The change in pressure and friction provokes harsh sounds from the back of my throat. Feral sounds. Sound I did not know I was capable of. I grip onto his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his skin.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”
Something within him calls to something wild within me. Delicious tension builds as he moves deeper, faster. And I cannot get enough. I kiss his neck. I sink my teeth into his shoulder. I grip him tighter.
Goddess!
My head tilts back.
“Look at me, Princess,” murmurs Callum.
I bring my eyes back to his. There is something like awe in his, flickering with the wolf that lingers there. He plunges deep inside me, and it pushes me over the edge. Release surges through me and I come completely undone beneath him. I cry out, gripping tightly onto him as my whole body shudders.
His rhythm becomes feverish. His shoulders tense and his cheeks redden. His face is strained for a moment. Then he groans, long and hard, his muscles spasming beneath my fingers as he spills into me. “Fuck. Aurora. Fuck.”
When he’s finally stilled, he crumples down on top of me, dipping his face into the nook between my neck and my shoulder. He’s murmuring under his breath in a language I do not understand. I can feel his heartbeat thudding against my chest, beating as quickly and frantically as mine. His weight is almost too much for me to bear, but I cannot bear the thought of him being further away from me, either.
I run my hand over the back of his neck, holding him close.
After a moment, he slides his hand out of my hair, and props himself on his forearms. The feral look is gone from his expression. He looks relaxed. Soft. There’s a playful glint in his eyes. He kisses my nose, then my mouth.
He looks down at me and a slow smile spreads across his face.
I return it, an unfamiliar feeling of elation bubbling inside me.
He laughs, and I laugh too. I do not know what is so funny, but we laugh until my cheeks ache, and tears spring into Callum’s eyes. And all the while, he looks at me as though I am the most wonderful thing he has set eyes upon.
“I think we should do that again sometime,” I say, stroking his cheek.
“You shouldn’t have said that, Princess.” He brushes his lips against throat, then my jaw. “I fear we shall never make it to Highfell.”
***
Callum wakes me twice in the night.
He takes pleasure from me languidly, sleepily-his body warm and comforting as he draws moans from my lips and groans softly in my ear. When we fall asleep, we are a tangle of limbs. His warmth prevents the need for me to cover myself in the furs and rugs laid on the ground.
I wake first thing in the morning. The sunlight creates streaks of cold light on the tent’s surface. The trees whisper outside in the breeze.
My back is flush to Callum’s chest, and his arm is slung possessively over my waist. He snores gently in my ear.
I want to stay where I am, but I need to relieve myself, so I try to disentangle myself from him.
He growls once, his eyes still closed.
“Get off me, you brute,” I whisper, not bothering to suppress my smile as I remember the first time we were in this position-just after Callum had taken me from Sebastian’s castle.
He grunts, and I wriggle free.
Not wanting to dress yet, I pull on Callum’s big shirt, letting it hang down to my knees. I crawl out of the tent and relieve myself behind a bush nearby.
When I’m done, I wander onto the shore and look out at the rippling grey waters of the loch.
I shiver; the air is bitingly cold. The wind whips my hair, and the pebbles are cold and hard beneath my bare feet. The sky is grey, and rain might be coming.