Page 54 of Wolf's Prize

Thank you, Anne. For everything.

She ran her gaze over Aimon, every glorious inch of him available for her eyes to feast on.

“Shall we?” Aimon asked, inclining his head to the tub.

Kathryn’s breath hitched at the heat in his gaze. “Oh, yes.”

She doffed her chemise and climbed in. Water sloshed over the rim as Aimon settled his muscular frame in behind her. He drew her back against his chest, his thighs bracketing her hips, and proceeded to wash her down with gentle hands. He started at her neck, working his way across her shoulders and down her arms, easing the tightness in her muscles.

Kathryn rested her head back against his shoulder, lost in his tender ministrations. Nothing she had heard from the women of the court had prepared her for such tenderness, or such passion. Her instincts, her careful weighing of her options, had not led her astray. Aimon would make her a good match, a good husband.

Tilting her head to look at him, she met his gaze, and her heart swelled, the intensity of emotion overwhelming. Was this what her father had experienced with her mother? Her aunt with her Uncle Jacques?

Aimon touched his lips to her forehead, his hands shifting to her stomach, then her breasts. Desire flared, and her exhaustion dissipated. Again? So soon? His hands slipped lower, gently washing her inner thighs and cleansing her folds with soft strokes. She arched her back, all but lost to sensation. His hard length pressed into her bottom. She was not alone in being aroused. Could her hands on him elicit a similar response, as his did on her?

Twisting herself around to face him, she straddled his long legs and planted her bottom on his thighs. She wanted to see him, touch him, have him lost in her caresses as she had been in his. She placed her palms on his chest. His blue eyes darkened. Emboldened, she rubbed her thumbs against his nipples. He gasped, and she stilled, her hands poised over him. He leaned back against the tub and placed his arms along the rim.

“Touch me all you want,ma belle renarde.”

A shiver quivered down her spine.Ma belle renarde.My beautiful vixen. His. He had said it before in the forest, but caught up in his kisses, in the way he had awakened her body with his touch, she had paid it no mind.

She flicked her fingers across his nipples once more, reveling in the flair of his nostrils. She dipped her hands beneath the water, trailing them across his stomach. His muscles rippled under her touch. Lower still, until her hands connected with his hardened shaft. As hard as steel, yet supple. She wrapped a hand around him. He uttered a tortured groan, and his cock twitched beneath her palm. Alarmed, she snatched her hand away. Had she hurt him? She did not think she had squeezed him too hard.

Aimon grasped her hand and moved it back to his cock. Hesitant, she wrapped her fingers around him again, opening her mind and calling on her wolf to read him. His pleasure battered her senses, and the scent of his arousal drenched her. Her sex clenched. With his hand still covering hers, he tightened her grip, guiding her in smooth strokes up and down his length. He closed his eyes, a look of pure rapture on his face. A lookshehad put there.

Braver now, Kathryn swiped her thumb across the tip of his cock. He growled. A shiver rippled through her body, and her vision glazed. The power she had over him was intoxicating. Adjusting her hand, she slowed her strokes, experimenting, taking him from the tip to the base. He groaned, his breathing erratic. She changed her pace again, faster this time, and his hands dipped beneath the water, gripping her hips. She pressed against him, her core flush to his muscular thigh.

“Kathryn.” He groaned again, and she relished his guttural response.

Strong hands lifted her by the waist and her hands slipped free of him. He held her against his chest for a moment, holding her above him, and her breath caught in anticipation. Then, ever so slowly, he lowered her onto his cock.

The sensation of being filled overwhelmed any residual tenderness. Kathryn flung her hands around his neck. It was all-encompassing, negating reason and restraint. Spying on those boys by the pond all those years ago, watching them frolic naked, envious of the girls they brought with them, girls they kissed, she had pictured what it would be like to be intimate with a man. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this.

“Ride me,ma belle renarde. Take your pleasure.”

And she did, sliding up and down his length, seeking her release. His hips bucked in time with hers, water sloshing onto the floor, but she spared it not a thought. All she had room for was Aimon. Her world narrowed down to him, to his strong hands, his muscular body and his thick cock deep inside her. His hand slipped between them, swiping against her nub, and her climax hit her with the force of an autumn storm. Her body clenched around him, and she cried out, unable to contain the pleasure rippling through her. With a grip like steel, he held her in place, slamming up into her, prolonging her bliss. She screamed again, her head dropping back, her body quivering with the onslaught. His body stiffened, and he thrust one last time, deep, as though reaching for her womb, and he roared out his release.

Breathless, she collapsed against his chest, and he held her close, nuzzling her neck, their wet bodies clinging to each other until the last tingles of their orgasms had faded away.

“Is it always like this?” she mumbled into his neck, her body pleasantly limp.

Aimon palmed the back of her head, stroking her hair. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his chest still heaving. “No.”

“Is it a werewolf thing?”

He took a moment to respond. “Perhaps.”

Kathryn closed her eyes and let herself float away on the residual euphoria, sated, content, cocooned in Aimon’s arms.

The cooling of the water roused them, and Aimon helped her from the tub, toweling her down with infinite tenderness. He led her to the bed, tucking her in against his warm body, and pulled the covers over them both.

As Kathryn drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Aimon’s arms, her heart beat a troubled rhythm. She had given more than her body to Aimon this night. There was every chance she was losing her heart to her angelic warrior, but would he lose his to her, too?

As dawn approached, Aimon slipped from the bed, tucking the covers beneath a still sleeping Kathryn. Though Anne would suspect where he had spent the night, he did not wish for it to become common knowledge. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her, her crowning glory of auburn locks spread across the pale linens.Ma belle renardehe had called her, but was she truly his? Never had he felt such a connection with a woman before, nor experienced such protectiveness, such need to be with her, close to her and touching her, as he did with Kathryn. What they had done would make it even more difficult when she chose another.

The ache in his heart pounded in sync with the throb in his groin. He should not have taken her, not in the forest, not ever, but he could not bring himself to regret it. And he could not bring himself to never let it happen again. He would take whatever stolen moments he could, and treasure them, for they would keep him company in the empty years ahead that were sure to come.

He slipped from the room, careful not to wake her, and went in search of fresh clothes. It was time to introduce her to her alpha. Time to make her one of the pack. He gritted his teeth. Gaharet would scent him on Kathryn in an instant, and he would take whatever recriminations Gaharet leveled at him. He deserved every one. He had failed as a teacher and failed in his duty, for he had been unable to keep her safe from himself.

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