Page 69 of To Carve A Wolf

And still, he didn’t stop. Not right away. He licked me through the aftershocks, slower now, more tender, until my legs trembled and I had to push weakly at his shoulders.

“Okay,” I breathed, panting. “Okay—enough.”

He kissed the inside of my thigh, his lips wet and warm against my skin. Then he looked up at me, eyes dark and burning, mouth slick with me.

“I’m not even close to done with you,” he growled, voice low and rough as he rose over me, the weight of him returning to press me down into the furs. “Hope you weren’t bluffing about that second round.”

I smiled up at him, flushed and breathless, reaching for his tunic.

“Feed me later,” I whispered, pulling him down to kiss me,tasting myself on his tongue. “Fuck me now.”

He groaned into my mouth the second I said it, deep and guttural, like I’d cracked something inside him wide open. His hands were already on me, rough and impatient, shoving his tunic over his head and tossing it to the floor.

Heat poured off his body. Solid muscle, scarred and familiar now.Mine. I reached for his belt, fumbling in my eagerness, and he caught my wrists, holding them down against the bed.

“Slow down,” he said, voice rough with control he was barely hanging onto. “You’ll get everything you want.”

I arched into him, defiant even now. “I’m not interested in slow.”

He growled again, something between amusement and hunger, and let go of my wrists. The belt came undone in seconds, pants shoved down and kicked away, his body pressing back over mine, hot and heavy and ready.

Our mouths crashed together again—no tenderness this time. Just heat and hunger and that maddening bond pulling us tighter and tighter. His hands slid down my waist, dragging my hips to meet his.

When he pushed inside me, we both moaned—loud, unfiltered, honest.

I clung to him, legs wrapping around his back, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled me in one hard thrust. There was no space between us now, nothing left to hide. No walls. No masks.

Justus.

“Lexa,” he groaned against my throat, “fuck—you feel…”

“I know,” I breathed, rocking my hips up to meet him. “Just move—Andros, please—”

He did.

Every thrust sent fire licking up my spine, every grind of his hips pulled another moan from my mouth. I met him, againand again, matching his rhythm, his intensity, the bed creaking beneath us, the room thick with heat and breath and the scent of us.

I was close again—gods, how was I already so close? But I didn’t care. I chased it, my body already clenching around him, pulling him deeper, harder.

“Look at me,” he said, voice hoarse. His eyes burned into mine. Wild. Fierce. “When you come, I want you to know who’s inside you.”

I shattered again.

He caught my cry with his mouth, swallowing it, holding me through the fall as I convulsed around him, gasping his name.

Andros cursed against my neck, his rhythm faltering, his body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt and groaned my name like a promise.

He came hard, the bond pulsing like a heartbeat between us, knot swelling, locking us together once more.

We stayed like that, tangled, breathless, clinging. No words. Just the sound of our hearts slowing. And the storm, finally starting to fade outside.

I didn’t remember falling asleep.

One moment, Andros was still inside me, heavy and warm and pulsing, and the next—blackness. No dreams. Just a quiet, bone-deep exhaustion that swallowed everything.

I didn’t feel him untangle from me. Didn’t feel the fur he pulled up over my naked body. Didn’t even feel the cold air from the door when it opened.

What woke me wasn’t the knock. It was the scent.

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