Page 31 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

“No. only when I’m inside you.” The answer was immediate, a guttural growl. His eyes locked on hers, burning with intensity. “But if that happens again, you will be mine forever. Do you understand? Mine.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mixture of desire and uncertainty. What did that mean for her? For them? She couldn’t think, not with his body pressed against hers, his scent filling her head. Her hand slid lower, cupping his heavy balls, and his hips arched in response. His control was slipping, his movements growing more urgent. More demanding.

“Do you want that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water lapping at the tub. “To make me yours?”

He growled again, the sound echoing off the walls of the cabin, his cock throbbing in her palms. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her skin tingling with awareness. She wanted him too—wanted to feel him moving inside her, claiming her again with that massive cock. Her fingers tightened around him, urging him on, and he thrust into her grip with a desperate urgency that matched the need coursing through her veins.

His eyes met hers, blazing with desire. “Yes.”

Pleasure blazed through her, and she stroked him harder, her grip firm, feeling him swell beneath her touch. His hips bucked, his entire body straining as he sought release. The water swirledaround them, steamy and fragrant, carrying the scent of their arousal.

Her name was a hoarse cry on his lips as he came, his cock pulsing in her grasp, and a surge of satisfaction rolled over her.Mine.

She held him through his release, savoring the way he trembled at her touch. His body was taut with tension, muscles rigid as he rode the waves of pleasure. His eyes were closed, his expression a mixture of ecstasy and relief. She watched his face, memorizing every line, every curve of his mouth. Committing them to memory.

When he finally opened those green eyes, they were filled with something she couldn’t name—something that made her heart skip a beat. He reached for her, his touch gentle, cradling her cheek. His thumb brushed over her lips, a feather-light caress that sent shivers down her spine. Then he pulled her into his lap, his arms circling her waist, and rested his forehead against hers.

“I need to take care of you,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. “But not in the tub.”

She blinked. “Why not?”

A sudden smile lightened his face. “I don’t want to drown.”

She returned his smile, suddenly giddy with happiness. He lifted her easily, muscles rippling beneath his damp skin as he stood up and stepped out of the tub. She wrapped her legs around his waist, savoring the feel of his body against hers. Water dripped from them, pooling on the wooden floorboards, but neither of them seemed to care. His eyes never left hers as he carried her across the room to the bed nestled in its alcove.

He laid her down gently, his hands lingering on her skin as if he couldn’t bear to break contact. Then he stretched out beside her, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at her. The firelight played over his skin, painting him in shades of gold and amber. He looked like something from a dream—a wild, untamed creature of the forest. But he was hers. All hers.

CHAPTER 16

Once again Thorn drifted awake to a gentle weight pressed against his chest, Sylvie’s soft curves molded to his body like she belonged there. The thought of waking without her caused an almost physical pain in his chest, and his arms tightened fractionally around her slender frame, needing to keep her close. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat echoed through him, matching the pulse of the forest beyond the walls.

Something deep inside his chest cracked open—an ache he’d thought long buried beneath years of isolation and duty. The feeling squeezed around his heart, both tender and painful. Her gentle breaths ghosted across his skin, stirring emotions he’d sworn never to feel again.

But it’s too late. He might not have physically marked her, but he had claimed her nonetheless. The warmth of her skin against his felt like coming home—a sensation he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until now.

He wanted to tell her that he didn’t care that she was human. That he didn’t want to live without her. He swallowed hard and she stirred, murmuring something in her sleep. Her fingerscurled against his chest and the words died on his tongue. Not yet. She needed her rest. And he needed time to find the right way to say it.

And yet—his chest tightened as memories of his sister flooded back—her gentle smile, her broken spirit after the human had betrayed her, the light fading from her eyes. What would she think of him now, wrapped around a human as if the past meant nothing? His jaw clenched until pain shot through his temples.

He had avenged her, of course. The males who had hurt had disappeared into the swamp, never to be seen again. He felt no remorse about their deaths, but neither had they served to purge his hatred.

Years of carefully constructed walls, of keeping humans at a safe distance—all undone by one small photographer with too much curiosity and not enough fear. The thought burned like acid in his gut. He’d sworn never to trust their kind again, to remember the lesson written in his sister’s tears.

Sylvie murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, nuzzling closer. Her small hand moved to its favorite position on his chest, right over his thundering heart. The simple trust in that unconscious gesture made his breath catch. How had she slipped past his defenses so easily? When had her smile become something he looked forward to instead of something to guard against?

And how could he move forward with the guilt of the past still holding him down?

He sighed, then carefully eased his arm from beneath her head, freezing when she shifted in her sleep. Her fingers clutched athis chest for a moment before falling away. The loss of contact left an ache he refused to acknowledge.

He slid from the bed, careful not to disturb the blankets. Morning light filtered through the woven branches of his roof, casting dappled shadows across her peaceful face and striking fiery sparks in her auburn hair. The sight of her there—so trusting, so vulnerable—squeezed something deep in his chest.

One step back. Then another. But his hooves wouldn’t carry him further. She looked so right there, curled in his bed as if she belonged. His fingers twitched with the urge to brush that errant strand of hair from her cheek, to trace the curve of her jaw.

The bed creaked as she rolled into the warm space he’d left, seeking his heat even in sleep. Her small hand reached across the empty sheets, and his throat tightened. Every instinct screamed at him to return, to gather her close and breathe in her sweet scent.

Instead, he forced himself to turn away. The forest needed him. His duty called. These stolen moments with her were just that—stolen. Temporary. She had her world, he had his. The sooner he accepted that, the better. Claiming her fully was an impossible dream.

But he couldn’t just leave. Not yet.

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