Page 49 of Captive Mate
“Not unless you want me to start this pack war all over again,” Matthew snarled, his teeth bared and his eyes wild and blazing with fury — and something else, something that made me suck in a breath, my cock hardening and my whole body tensing. “You’re not going to fucking give yourself to him because you feel like you don’t have another choice. You want to be a pack shaman? Then stay here. But fuck that, Arik, you’re not selling yourself to Kimball just so you aren’t on your own —”
There was only one answer to that.
I flung myself forward and pressed up on my toes, molding my mouth to his and kissing him with rough desperation.
Matthew cut off with a moan and hauled me into his arms, his grip on me just this side of painful.
Kissing wasn’t enough. I burned for him, I needed him everywhere, and I practically climbed him, trying to get my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, my fingers digging bruises into him and my tongue spearing into his mouth.
He grabbed my ass, hoisting me up, and staggered off the path and between the trees.
My back hit a trunk a little too hard, but I didn’t care; now there was something to keep me in place as he thrust between my legs, his cock pressing against the cleft of my ass and making me squirm and moan for more.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he tore his mouth away from mine and worked his way down my neck, sucking marks into it that I hoped would last for days. “Fuck me, Matthew, now, if you don’t fuck me right this fucking instant I’ll go get Colin to do it after all — oh,gods—” I let out a throaty groan as he squeezed my asshard, his fingers pressing between my cheeks and putting not enough pressure on my hole.
I looked around wildly, as much as I could with Matthew’s head buried in the curve of my neck, and saw only muddy redwood needles and bits of bark.
Fuck that. Maybe I was a wild animal part of the time, but I had standards, and those needles poking me in intimate places — absolutely not.
Magic. What was the point of being a shaman if I couldn’t use a little strategic magic? Matthew worked a hand up under my shirt and thumbed over one of my nipples, and I clung to his shoulders and tried to focus.
Soft. It had to be soft. I sent my power out through my feet, reaching into the ground and rearranging the fabric of the forest floor. Redwood needles trembled, rose, and danced into position, weaving themselves into a blanket of sorts, with all their sharp little ends pointed down.
I shoved at Matthew, using the leverage of the tree. “On the ground,” I gasped. “Not up against a tree.”
“The ground’s too —” He turned his head, stared, and said wonderingly, “Never mind. Fuck. Shamans are awesome.”
“Fuck yes we are,” I growled. “Now put me on the ground and fuck me.”
Matthew turned back. His eyes had gone full alpha, and it sent a shiver through me that made the blanket I’d woven whisper in sympathy.
He grinned, kissed me, and spun me around and down, landing on top of me with anoof, his arms underneath to cushion the impact. I bucked up against him, our cocks straining through two pairs of jeans, both too much friction and not enough.
I’d been holding back my shift, but I let it out, my claws bursting from my fingers. I tore Matthew’s shirt to ribbons, ripping it off and letting the pieces flutter away in the breeze.
“Stop,” he said, laughing and catching my wrists again as I reached for his jeans. “I’ll take them off the old-fashioned way. No claws below the belt.”
Well, that was fair enough, but… “If you want to enforce that, then take your fucking clothes off already!”
He scrambled to do as he was told, pulling away to rip off his jeans and then stumbling from foot to foot as they caught on his boots. I yanked off my own clothes, falling back and sprawling spread-eagled and naked on my makeshift forest blanket.
Matthew stopped and stared, his jeans hanging from one hand, the front of his boxers barely containing his erection. My mouth watered. Gods, but alphas really did have their good points. His chest was strong and broad, with thick dark hair in the center of it and spreading down in a line to the waistband of his boxers.
I wanted those thighs between my legs.
I wanted what was betweenhislegs between my legs.
His gaze dropped right where I wanted his cock to go, and his breathing sped up. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He looked up again, meeting my eyes. “You know exactly how gorgeous you are, don’t you?”
Well, yes. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to hear. I couldn’t help preening, tipping my head back to show off the long line of my throat, and wrapping a hand around my cock to give it a teasing stroke.
That backfired. I mainly teased myself, and I had to bite my lip to keep in a whimper.
Matthew tossed his jeans aside, rid himself of his boxers, and — stalked me. That was the only word for the way he approached, his hands out at his sides as if he was getting in position to grapple with his prey, his gaze avid and possessive and hungry.
The nape of my neck tingled, my fight-or-flight response activated in a way that made my erection agonizingly hard. My ass clenched, the muscles there spasming with how much I wanted to be filled.
Matthew knelt between my legs, still moving slowly, still without looking away from my eyes. “If I fuck you, I’m knotting you,” he said, very low. “Tell me you want it, Arik.”
