Page 53 of Witchwolf

Well, that... that was not at all what I’d been expecting. It did make the concept of him biting me a touch less sexy. I hadn’t wanted to be a mage, but having it taken away or maybe dying, well, that was another thing entirely, and not one I’d even considered here. I’d been dropped into a world where magic and werewolves and fairies were real. Death had seemed like an even more distant concept than it had been before, when I was just a regular college student.

I was going to have to talk to Prudence about this whole turning into a werewolf thing. After all... if that was what it took to be with Jax, then maybe... maybe I was willing to stop being a mage, for that. He was quickly becoming something very important to me, and I didn’t want to go back to life without him.

How important was magic next to a future with Jax?

26

Jax

My cheekbone ached from pressing against Dakota’s shoulder, but it was nice to have him so close. Sure, I still wanted to mark and claim him, but the only thing that could soothe that need to make him my mate was having him close.

It was an excuse. I knew it; I just didn’t care.

Having him there felt too good to push him away. If I was playing with fire, so be it, as long as I could hold him a little while longer.

Too soon, Dakota started moving around. Did he want me to let him go? Why was that so hard?

Biting back a whine, I loosened my grip on him, but he only turned enough to brush his lips across my cheek.

“Hm?”

“You’re torturing yourself,” Dakota said, gripping my hair hard enough that he could pull my head up.

All I could do was sigh.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered, dragging his thumb across my cheekbone when he touched my face.

“That my instinct is to kill you?”

He huffed. “That your instinct is to keep me.” His lips twitched toward a smile. His palm was so warm against my skin. “You’re going to have to be bigger, badder, and scarier than that if you want me to think you’re some kind of monster.”

While he held my face, he leaned in slow. I could feel how deep he took each breath as his chest rose and pressed against mine. When he kissed me, it was like a steady wave, warm and giving.

Dakota twisted in my lap. I’d meant to let him go, but now, my arm around his waist was too tight for him to move far, and it was an awkward press and shimmy for him to turn around. He straddled me in my office chair and as he kissed me, his hips started to move.

The man was sex incarnate—wild, given that he’d only just started having it. But the way he moved, the needy little sounds he made, wiped every other thought from my mind.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was gripping his hips and dragging him against me, my cock straining the front of my pants while he fought with my zipper.

Even seconds were too long before I felt his skin on mine, the steel heat of his cock rigid against my own. He gripped us both and moved, and right then, I’d have given him anything he wanted. Anything. Everything.

Just let me keep you.

I pressed my mouth against his shoulder, and just the pressure against my bared teeth made the buzzing desperation in my head blow apart. He was ours, ours, ours.

Even if I couldn’t mark him, in that moment, riding on my thighs, he was mine.

He shivered. Was he afraid?

Fuck, of course he was. I’d just told him?—

“I won’t,” I hissed against his skin. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” he whispered. His voice was rough, like his throat was closed. His fist tightened in my hair, and I bucked against him as a tingle shot down my spine and I spent in a sticky mess that covered his fingers.

Perfect.

How was he so fucking perfect?

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