Page 62 of Spellbound & Speechless
She nods wordlessly, her nails digging into my back. She’s marking me as hers now, and I chase the feeling.
Hers… hers… let me belong to her.
I pull out and drive in again, giving her more, and then I come to a stop, letting her adjust to my length. My hips move slowly, rocking back and forth, and I slide in again. She lets out a scream, one I should encourage her to hold back, but I can’t.
I need this as much as she does. I need more. More of her pleasure, more of our connection, more of this.
How much longer I can last, I can’t say. I’m moments from filling her with my seed. The thought alone could push me over the edge. My mate. I’m going to spill inside my mate—if she allows it.
I press my forehead to hers and thrust into her slowly. “Look at me, Aspen. Be a good girl. Do what I say.”
She forces her eyes open and locks onto me with intensity. Pleasure. It flows between us through the mating bond, and I need to know if she feels it, too. Can she feel howperfectly she wraps around me? How fucking her once can awaken my spirit in a way it’s never been?
I’ve been asleep for so long, for my entire life, and tasting her once is changing me from the inside out.
“Let go.” She brushes her lips against mine. “Fuck me. Fill me. Make me yours.”
The restraint I’ve been holding on to snaps in two, and my hips thrust into hers hard enough to make her words fade away. Her eyes widen. She holds on to me, digging her nails hard enough to draw blood. Pain and pleasure mingle.
My hand moves to her thigh, hitching her leg up as I drive into her again and again. My growls are feral as the wolf takes over, my eyes flashing red. The room blazes along with me.
“Mine,” I grunt. “You’re going to come again. Take my seed. You’re going to take it all like a good fucking girl. I want that pussy clenching around me, taking everything I have. Do you hear me?”
“Yes!”
We shatter together, and I spill into her, as promised, my hips never pausing until she goes limp. I’ve given her everything.My mate. My mate is full of my seed. I could nearly get hard again at the thought.
I slip out of her pussy, and watch my cum drip from her sore hole.
“All stretched out for me.” I push my fingers in, whimpering at how easy it is. She’s filled with my cum. “Fuck.”
“Yes. All for you.”
My eyes flicker up to meet hers. I take in the sight of her red lips and cheeks, messy hair, and how she flops uselessly against the bed. Boneless.
Aspen still doesn’t know what she means to me, but I intend to let her know. She spends the night in my arms,and I whisper sweet words to her, kissing every inch of her, making sure she feels warm and safe.
I can’t tell her what she is to me. Not yet. Not until I know I can truly keep her safe—not from me, but from the threats outside our door. No one, corrupt or otherwise, will touch my mate without her permission.
Chapter 22
Mac
She’s gonein the morning, but her candy perfume is still with me. It doesn’t matter how far she goes. A tug in my chest pulls me closer to her, guiding me to my feet.
It also urges me to put on some clothes. We were exhausted last night, only having enough energy to move into her larger bed. Our sweat is still clinging to me. I’m a goddamn mess.
I’ve always known about my primal side in the bedroom, but I wasn’t expecting Aspen to match it. Of course, she did. She’s my perfect mate. Admitting it, even in the quiet of my mind, still makes guilt prickle at the back of my neck.
The last thing I want is to put her in danger. To lose her.
I amble outside, sighing to myself. What the hell is she doing up so early? She should be in bed with me.
Their house has ample land behind it. It was perfect for my wolf the night before and gave me enough time to run off my energy. Of course, it wasn’t enough. I needed her.
I usually wake up the night after a full moon with alingering discomfort—an urge to run, or something like a hangover. Those feelings, the ones that have stuck around for so damn long, disappear when I spot her in the distance.
She stands on her tiptoes, reaching into the apple tree, struggling to grasp the fruit. Aspen is the tallest of the Hawthorne sisters, just an inch or two shorter than me, but that isn’t saying much. Most of them are short as hell.
