Page 155 of The Wolf King

A low, throaty sound escapes him and vibrates against my center. “That’s it, Princess. Take your pleasure from me.”

He slides his hands up my waist and holds me firmly against his mouth as I move my hips. When I cry out, he moves one hand up my chest and plays with my nipple as he continues to stroke my center with his tongue.

It is almost too much to bear. Merely the sight of his big shoulders between my spread legs, his mouth moving against me, his eyes primal, is almost enough to push me over the edge.

But then he teases my opening with his tongue, before sliding inside.

I cry out with the surprise of it. My back arches, and my head rolls back. “Goddess!”

And I am lost. I cannot think anymore. I am not a human. Not a princess. I do not know my name, or where I am. I am just this feeling. This pleasure.

I grab his wrist as he palms my breast, holding onto him, stopping myself from floating away completely.

He brings his other hand to my inner thigh. He rubs the wet, sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb—moving in circles. The sensation of his tongue and his thumb, stimulating different parts of me at the same time, provokes sounds from me I have never made before—animalistic moans as I rock against him.

“Callum. . . I’m going to. . . I feel. . . Goddess!”

He groans, and release crashes through me. I cry out, loudly, my back arching, my body shuddering as ripples of pleasure consume me. Callum continues to lick and suck, as if determined to devour every last drop of me, until finally I still.

He kisses me once more between my legs, then crawls up my body—placing his forearms on either side of my head and caging me within them.

His lips are swollen and wet, and the wolf is behind his eyes as he looks down at me.

I’m breathing fast, and so is he. I’m not sure whether the pounding of my heart is due to the release that crashed over me. Or whether it is nervousness, anticipation, of what might come next.

I want to give him what he just gave me. I want him to come undone.

I pull his face down to mine, and I kiss him. He groans into my mouth, stroking my tongue in the same expert way he moved between my legs. Heat starts to pool again, more so when I realize his hard length is pushing against my thigh through the rough material of his kilt. I hook my ankles around his, melting into his solid body.

“Now, tell me whatyouwant, Princess,” he murmurs against my lips. “Tell me what you want, and I shall give it to you.”

What do I want? I wanthim. All of him.

I push him gently, so that he is kneeling.

With shaking fingers, I undo the buttons of his shirt. I untuck it from his kilt, then slide it off his big shoulders. His breathing deepens as he watches me. He keeps his hands at his sides, as if waiting for permission to touch me more.

I swallow, and look down at his kilt. “I want you to take it off.”

He cups my cheek and kisses me gently. “Okay.”

He shifts back to unlace and pull off his boots—struggling in the confines of the small space. When it comes to taking off his kilt, he curses again as he tries to maneuver out of it and kicks one of the walls of the tent.

“This isn’t very dignified,” he says. I giggle, and his grin widens. “Give me a second. I fear I shall ruin the mood.”

He ducks out of the tent—letting in a refreshing gust of cool night air through the flap—only to remerge a few seconds later, without any clothes on. My heart catches in my throat as he kneels in front of me again.

I look down at his sculpted torso and strong, muscular arms. How can a male be built this way? I drag my fingers down the ridges of his torso, and he takes a deep, shuddery breath.

I saw him naked once before, in the forest when he shifted from a wolf to a man. I didn’t give myself permission to look openly, then. But I do now.

His length is hard. Thick. His arousal obvious.

My insides clench.

I do not know much about the anatomy of men, but I know this part of him will be inside me. And for that reason, it seems large. Larger than I was expecting. My heart beats a little faster, yet heat pools between my legs, and an ache begins to grow.

My fingers twitch. I start to move my hand lower, but he shifts forward and lays me down on the rugs—enveloping me in his searing body heat.

---