Page 76 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

My pleasured cry echoed around the clearing. I dug my fingers into the snow as he began to thrust, his cock nudging my womb. The cold would have been intolerable before, but it didn’t bother me now. Lycans were hot-blooded—a trait that was taking me a while to get used to. Even in the depths of winter, I spent most of my time in tank tops and shorts. Einar spent most of his time finding excuses to take them off me.

His fingers dug into my hips. A second later, a crack split the air, and pain flared over my ass.

My gasp was loud in the clearing as I met his gaze over my shoulder. “You did not just spank me.”

A wicked light entered his silver eyes. “Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t like it, sweetheart. Your pussy just clamped so hard, I think I might lose circulation in my dick.”

My cheeks heated. Einar chuckled. Then he fucked me harder, bending over me and licking the shell of my ear.

“I love those blushes,” he rumbled in my ear. “And you want to know a secret?”

“Yes,” I gasped, moving with him.

“When your cheeks turn pink, your pretty nipples do too. And I love it, Harper. I love seeing my wife flushed and breathless. I especially love knowing I made her that way.”

Wife. I never got tired of hearing him say it. We’d married a month after the battle at the warehouse, the ceremony held at the entrance to the maze with Arlo officiating and all of Draithmere’s inhabitants around us. Arlo insisted he wasn’t concerned about the Legerdemain trying to assassinate him, but Einar and I still worried. After everything he’d done for us, Arlo deserved happiness.

In the meantime, he had his hands full helping my father repair my parents’ house. The two of them had struck up an unlikely friendship, and now Arlo spent a few days a week in Seattle, working with Dad to make the property livable. Although, I suspected Einar sent Arlo to make sure my father had truly turned over a new leaf and didn’t plan on writing any stories about the supernatural world.

Einar delivered another stinging slap to my ass, and my thoughts dissolved as my arousal flared hotter. Goosebumps lifted on my skin. I thrust my ass higher, offering Einar a better target.

My husband chuckled—and then his chuckle turned into a growl as I squeezed my inner muscles around him. He tangled a hand in my hair and tugged my head back, holding me steady as he pumped his hips faster.

My body rocked wildly in the snow. Dirt curled between my fingers. My breasts swayed, my nipples tight and aching. The scent of leather and pine flooded my lungs. I cried out as my orgasm rushed toward me.

Einar reached a hand under my body and found my clit. Two strokes was my undoing. My orgasm hit, and I screamed Einar’s name as I came apart, my body shaking.

He followed a second later, his bellow bouncing off the trees as he pumped his hot release inside me. Then, gasping, he pulled out and collapsed in the snow with me in his arms.

We lay quietly for a few moments, our hearts beating in sync. A smile tugged at my lips as I deliberately tuned out the sound—a trick Einar had taught me so I didn’t get overstimulated by too much noise. Heightened senses were cool, but I didn’t need to hear Leander stumbling to the bathroom after a long night of drinking Adina’s hard cider.

When Einar’s breathing was even, I turned in his arms and stroked the golden stubble on his cheek. “Do you feel less nervous about meeting Cyrus this afternoon?”

My husband scowled. “I’m not nervous.”

“Einar.”

The scowl lingered a few more seconds. Then Einar sighed, a sheepish expression stealing over his rugged features. “Have I been that obvious?”

“A little,” I said, smiling. I feathered my thumb over his jaw. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be with you. And I’ve talked to Abby a lot over the phone and email. I think she and I are going to have a great time together.”

The scowl reappeared. “More like scheme together. My brother has no idea what he’s about to unleash.”

I couldn’t help my laugh. “Oh, I think he knows.” I kissed the corner of Einar’s mouth. “And if he’s half as stubborn as you are, he deserves it.”

Several hours later, nerves gripped me as I stood in Draithmere’s foyer with Einar at my side. Through the windows, a black sedan crawled up the driveway, its tires crunching in the snow. Out of habit, I tucked my right hand behind my back.

Einar caught my wrist, pulling my attention to him. My breath hitched as he lifted my severed pinky to his lips and kissed it.

“You look absolutely radiant in that dress, Harper Rothkilde,” he murmured, tenderness shimmering in his eyes. “It’s not fair, really. Brains and beauty in one fuckable package.”

A snort escaped me before I could stop it. “Fuckable?”

He shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. “I just call them as I see them. You’re the wordsmith around here.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss on my cheek. “And my favorite author.”

“I’m not an author yet,” I said. But maybe someday… Working as a reporter was out of the question, even though I had every intention of finishing my degree. At first, I’d expected it to bother me. Growing up, I always assumed I would follow in my parents’ footsteps.

But spending all those nights writing alone in my room had sparked something inside me. Facts were fine, but maybe fiction suited me better. And goodness knew my new life offered plenty of inspiration.

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