Page 74 of Bully Wolf's Nanny
If it was possible, his eyes turned even darker. “Is that so?” he murmured. She remembered his wolf, huge and sleek. The feeling of pinning him to the forest floor. The glint in his eye as he let her.
“Fair and square,” she said, “what’s my prize?”
“What would you like?” he said, voice dripping honey.
“You,” she replied, pressing her forehead into his, “I want you.”
“Then I’m yours,” he murmured, catching her lips in a kiss.
Nicolas Accardi was not a man who could be controlled for long. At the merest hint of her grasp on his wrists loosening, she found herself flipped from him and falling face-down into the soft, luxurious bedding. He swung his leg around and grasped her hips, pulling her ass back against his pelvis.
There was a metallic click as he undid his belt, a familiar whisper of leather, and then the distinctive sound of a zip.
She bucked backwards into him, utterly shameless in her need for him.
He groaned as his cock bumped against her wet folds and he rubbed his hard length through them, coating himself in her juices. She keened as the head bumped against her clit, every nerve-ending alight with pleasure. The cool, silk sheets bit into her painfully stiff nipples, his fingers grasped her hips with bruising force, her lips were bee-stung, swollen with kisses.
She savored it all. And still needed more.
“God, Daisy,” Nicolas hissed as the head of his cock pushed into her willing body, “you’re fucking soaking.”
“Well, what do you expe—ooh!”
She was cut off as he drove into her with a powerful thrust of her hips, unable to formulate words as he began a steady yet brutal pace.
His hand fisted into her hair, pulling her upwards off the bed until her back collapsed into his chest. His free hand snaked around to cup her breast, thumb rubbing over her nipple, twisting and pinching. With the hand still in her hair, he pulled her head back against his shoulder, leaning down to capture her lips in a hot, possessive kiss. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, laving over hers, a growl building in his chest.
And through it all, he never ceased his assault on her pussy, pounding into it with wild abandon. She felt her orgasm building, spurred on by his hand trailing down from her nipple to her center, his fingers stroking hard against her clit. It seemed he was in no mood to tease her. He knew what he wanted, and he would take it with vicious glee.
She fell apart around his cock with a keening moan, unable to keep herself upright. He snarled in pleasure, pushing her back down into the bed, rocking into her harder and faster, her muscles spasming around his hard length.
“Good girl,” he hissed, “you can take it.”
“I can’t!” she groaned, hands fisting the sheets as he ravaged her over-sensitive body. “It’s too much!”
“It’s too much when I say it’s too much,” he growled, utterly unrelenting, “you’ll take every inch I give you and thank me for it.”
“Please, Nicolas,” she begged, “please, I need…I need…”
“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me what you need.” His voice was rough, the low vibrations rocking through her.
“You! I need you!”
Her words were enough to tip them both over the edge. He snarled as he came, pressing into her yielding and trembling flesh, as she whimpered beneath him. It was overwhelming, the scent of him, the weight of his body, the delicious aftershock of such aggressive pleasure. She gasped and bucked back into him, desperate for him, every cell in her body singing out to be with him.
Nicolas did not disappoint.
He pulled out of her, a hot stream of seed spilling down her thigh, and spun her around to crush her into his chest with strong arms.
“Good girl,” he murmured as she twitched and shuddered, “you’re my good girl.”
She was surrounded by him, inside and out. The salt-sweat of his skin, the darkly melodious hum of his voice, the raging warmth of his hold on her. And she never wanted to leave.
It was only too easy to slip into sleep as he held her, whispering soft praises into her ear. Several times, he woke her up through the night to claim her again until her body was littered with the evidence of his affection, tired and sore and utterly spent.
As the sun rose through the arching window, bathing them both in golden light, Daisy exhaled, nuzzling closer into his side.
“I love you, Nicolas Accardi.”
