Page 53 of Wolf's Prize

“So wet for me.” He pressed his nose against her and inhaled. “You smell divine.”

More dampness. Her face heated, her cheeks burning hot. With gentle hands, he spread her thighs, opening her up to his covetous gaze. He growled.

With that one look, her embarrassment fled, replaced by a need so strong she almost forgot to breathe. She let her legs flop open, reveling in Aimon’s fixed attention. To be so desired, to elicit such longing, made her feel powerful. She arched her spine, her nipples taut and engorged, thrust out, presenting herself to him.

He growled again and buried his face between her thighs, lathing her with his tongue. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head dropped back. It was sinful, decadent and more than she could ever have imagined.

Aimon’s tongue circled the little nub at the top of her sex, and her hips jerked. He chuckled against her and did it again.

“Do you like it when I do that?”

“Mnh.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, making it impossible to verbalize her feelings. Her whole body shook with sensation. Aimon did it once more, this time sliding his finger through her wet folds. Kathryn moaned. His finger pressed at her entrance, and as he sucked her nub into his mouth, he slid his finger in. A stream of nonsense words fell from her mouth.

With a gentle hand and a firm tongue, he set up a slow rhythm, and Kathryn flung her arms out clutching at the grass for something to hold, something to ground her. Her head rolled from side to side, her body flushed and tensed in expectation. Then Aimon curled his finger inside her and stars exploded behind her eyes. Her body arched, and a cry tore from her throat, as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled over her body.

Kathryn’s orgasm ripped through her. He had given her that, the only man to have done so.

Aimon growled low in his throat.Merde, he needed her, wanted to be buried in her wet heat to the hilt and thrusting inside of her. Arms flung out, eyes closed, her hair spread like flames of fire across the forest floor—he had never seen a more beautiful sight. His nostrils flared. His wolf was now the one threatening to take over. Somehow, he maintained his form.

He slid his body over hers and positioned himself between her thighs. She was wet and ready for him, and he was more than ready for her, but he would need to take this slowly. He dipped his head into the curve of her neck and inhaled her scent. Her body quivered beneath him, and she clung to him. He slid his cock through her slippery folds, then paused at her entrance. Her eyes flew open, her pupils wide and uncertain.

“This may hurt a little at first,” he whispered against her cheek.

Her breath hitched, but her hands pulled him closer. Steeling himself, he sank slowly into her warm, wet heat. He groaned.Mon Dieu,she was tight, and the clench of her channel around him almost had him spill his seed as if it werehisfirst time, not hers.

This, this bliss, was what he had hungered for from the moment he had seen her in the forest. No, from the moment he had caught her scent at Langeais Keep. Why he had denied himself this for so long, he could no longer recall.

She whimpered, and he stilled, though his body demanded he fulfill the act to completion. Holding his control together by the barest of threads, his cock buried deep, he waited and watched for a sign that she was ready. He would wait all night if need be, but he sent a fervent prayer to God, to the moon, to anyone who would listen, that it would not take that long.

With an impatient mewl, she shifted her hips, driving him deeper. He moaned, leaned down, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth and began to move, a slow rhythm of withdraw and thrust. His body shook with the effort to maintain his sedate pace, her breath puffing against his cheek and her hips undulating to meet his.

“Aimon,” she gasped. “I need…I need more.”

Her plea, and the insistent urging of her hands, were a testament to the fire inside of her that intrigued and excited him so much. He could deny her nothing. Relaxing his restraint, he gave them both what they wanted, what they needed, pounding into her, and she met his thrusts with reckless abandon. A tingle started in his balls, racing up his spine, and as she clenched around him, reaching her peak, she sent him over the edge.

“Aimon!”

His hoarse shout mingled with hers, as his whole body went rigid, and he emptied his seed inside her.

As his body ceased its shuddering, he collapsed beside Kathryn, spent, but sated. For now. Aimon turned his face toward her, looking at her through hooded lids, and found her staring at him—beautiful hazel eyes and a nose full of freckles. He leaned in and dropped a kiss on her forehead. He let his gaze run over her body, her nipples still pert and skin flushed from their lovemaking. It would only be a matter of time before he would want Kathryn again.

She smiled at him and reached out to lay a hand on his chest. “Thank you for my moonlit run. We should do this every night.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, grinning. “You are very bold, Kathryn Beauchene.”

She frowned. “I guess I do not behave the way other women do,” she said, looking away from him.

“No, you do not,ma belle renarde.”

He reached out and turned her to face him. He took her mouth in his, letting her know just how much he liked that. Aimon released her, and she snuggled into him, her soft, feminine body curved against him. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a gentle light about the clearing. He wished they could stay this way all night, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, but they would need to return to the keep soon or Anne would send out a search party.

With the old cook sure to gloat at the outcome of her scheming, Aimon had no wish for a confrontation. As it was, with his clothes torn during his hurried transition, they would have to sneak back into the keep through the kitchen. Anne was not the only person they would need to avoid. The guilt would hit him soon enough. That he had taken Kathryn at all, much less in the middle of the night on the forest floor, already pinched at him. Meeting Farren in the halls while naked, in the company of his scantily clad daughter, was something his conscience was not yet ready to face.

Beyond the clearing, careful to remain downwind, belly flat to the grass, lay a brown wolf. His lip curled in a vicious, silent snarl, he stared at the reclining lovers before slipping away, unseen, into the forest.

Chapter Twenty-Five

With his hand tucked in hers, Kathryn and Aimon snuck in through the kitchen, tiptoeing along the halls to her bedchamber, giggling like a pair of naughty children. A bath of steaming hot, scented water awaited them and coals, freshly stoked, glowed in the brazier. She grinned.

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