Page 40 of Kiss of Frost

His nostrils flared, and outrage leapt into his eyes. “You’re not my mate.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll actually believe it one day.”

He grabbed my shirt by the collar and hauled me up so we were nose to nose. “You’re not my mate,” he snarled. “Your witch poisoned me.”

I smiled. “That’s a great theory, Graeme, but it has a fatal flaw.” I reached down and grasped his cock, which was hard enough to rip through his pants. At his swift intake of breath, I swiped my tongue over his lips, tasting fire and salt and the dark magic of the fae. I knew my power shimmered in my eyes as I spoke against his mouth. “You were hard for me long before you drank that beer, sweetheart.”

His blue eyes widened. His shaky breath teased my lips. Then he spun me around and shoved me against the wall. My back hit the stone, forcing a grunt from me as Graeme gripped my throat and growled in my face.

“I’ve had enough of your mouth.”

“No, you haven’t.” I arched into him, rubbing my cock over his. “You’ve got a whole list of things you want to do to it.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

He tightened his grip. At the same time, he shoved his face against my throat. His heated breath fanned my neck. “I should fuck you right here. Right up against this wall.”

Lust sizzled through my veins. “Do it.” Gods, I was ready to beg him for it. He wanted inside me, and I was game. His masculine scent filled my lungs. His hard body trapped me against the rock. No place to go, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted him to set me on fire.

He panted against my neck, his warrior’s body throwing off aggression and sweat. He rocked his hips, rubbing our dicks together, and I wasn’t sure he realized he was doing it. He released another shuddery breath, the sound ending on a low, sexy whimper.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” I said.

He pulled back, storm clouds darkening his eyes. “What?”

“You heard me.”

The storm broke. “I’m not afraid,” he growled, “but you should be.” He brought his mouth down on mine.

Fucking finally.

He kissed me hard, bruising and punishing. His tongue probed my lips, seeking entry. When I didn’t give it fast enough, he grabbed my jaw and forced his way inside, swiping his hot, needy tongue over mine.

Triumph surged in my veins as I shoved my hands into his hair and kissed him back, matching him stroke for stroke. His tongue was slick and hot. The stone dug into my back, the rock as hard and brutal as the male taking his pleasure from me. And, fuck, I wanted to give it to him. Give and give forever. My dick leaked in my pants, everything between my legs hot and hard and swollen. I hooked a leg around his thigh and thrust my hips forward, rutting against him.

Never, my mind whispered. Never had I felt this way with a man. Submission didn’t phase me. I fed on fantasies, and it was the nature of my kind to bend and adapt. I could be whatever Graeme wanted me to be. But I’d never been so…hungry.

Yes, that was it. My need was insatiable. I could drink from him forever and never get my fill. Wasn’t meant to.

He groaned into my mouth. His hands were everywhere, tugging at my clothes and digging into my skin. He shoved his thigh between mine, spreading me wider and giving himself room to grind.

My balls ached. My magic rushed forward, spinning Graeme’s fantasies through my mind like a carousel. Me bent over the wooden table in the Great Hall, my cheek pressed to the wood and my pleasured moans rising to the ancient beams. Me on my back, my ankles in his hands as he pumped between my thighs. Me astride him, riding him like Georgie rode me the night before. The vision wavered, and she took my place, her head thrown back and her tits bouncing as she worked her body up and down Graeme’s cock.

“You’ll have us both,” I said, tearing my mouth from his. I gripped his shoulder in case he tried to come in for another kiss. Because it was important to get this right, I realized suddenly. Georgie and I had come to him together. My gut told me fate had arranged it that way for a reason.

Graeme stared at me, his mouth wet and blurry. “Both?” he rasped, his air distracted.

“Georgie is right around the corner. We can seal our mate bond now.” I moved my hand to his cheek and stroked his beard. “Fate led us here, Graeme. Your search is over.”

I had a split second of warning.

My feet left the ground, and the antechamber whipped past as Graeme flung me away from him. I twisted in mid-air and would have landed on my feet, but something slammed into my side, tossing me to the ground. I landed hard, the wind knocked out of me. Graeme was on me in a blink, hauling me up and snarling in my face

“I have a mate. His name is Hamish, and I will never stop searching for him.”

Hamish? The mate he’d lost centuries ago? I gasped for air as I fought his grip. “You search for a dead man?”

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