Page 34 of Taken By The Wolves
I’ve never been worshiped like this.
Her mouth finds me, and the world stops spinning.
Every thought is wiped clean from my mind except the shape of her lips and the velvet slide of her tongue. I watch her take her time, eyes fluttering closed, like the act itself gives her pleasure, too, and everything primal in mehowlswith gratitude.
She’s made for us.
The scent of her still clings to my skin, mingling with my own, and I swear I can feel the goddess herself smiling down, blessing this.
The gift of a mate is holy and sacred, whispered through bloodlines and carried by magic and moonlight, and somehow, she’s here, in our cabin and in our lives.
With every kiss, I get closer to unraveling. My hand fists in her hair, not to force control, just to hold on and groundmyself in this miracle.
My brothers watch silently, and their bond pulls tight around us. Scarlet’s not only mine, she’s ours, and she’s showing us how ready she is to let go.
I grit out her name, panting, body taut, and it’s spiritual, rooted in the forest, calling our wolves forth.
But will Nixon believe she’s ready for what must happen next?
16
SCARLET
I’m doing this.
I’m on my knees, on their rug, in their cabin, while Reed towers above me, his eyes as deep as midnight, his muscles tight as a bowstring drawn to the edge. A giant among men. A powerful presence letting me take him apart. My palms press to his thighs for balance, but it’s more than that. I want him to know this is a choice I’m making, and something I want, rather than a reflection of his expectation.
His eyes burn into mine, daring me to break the connection as I lean forward and let my lips brush the base of him. A soft hiss escapes him, pleasure laced with disbelief, and the sound drives me further.
I drag my tongue upward, slow and sure, teasing him with the lightest flick at the tip. His hips jerk, his fingers twitch, and his expression is devastated in the best way.
I’m in control of this moment, yet somehow I’m still out of control, wilder and more confident than I’ve been before. That dichotomy thrills me. I’ve never felt more powerful ormore exposed. Never felt more wanted or more owned.
From the edge of my vision, I sense movement. Finn, somewhere behind me, is still quiet. Nixon’s presence burns like a torch in the corner of the room. Their restraint is a quiet inferno, and their hunger is palpable, fueling me.
I take more of Reed into my mouth as a shudder rolls through him and he braces against the back of the sofa, his other hand threading tightly into my hair. Not to push. Just to hold. His body trembles under my touch, every tiny quake a surrender I lap up.
His head tips back, a low moan rising from his chest as I take him deeper, sliding my tongue along the underside, lips sealed tight, matching the rhythm he’s fighting to maintain.
He’s losing.
His breathing rasps through gritted teeth as he fights to keep control of his hips that twitch to thrust deeper. His voice breaks the silence, hoarse and cracking. “Scarlet—Jesus. Baby, I—fuck—”
His body tenses, a full-body tremor rippling through him as he groans and releases. I take it all because I want to taste the storm of his surrender as I tame him with nothing but my mouth.
And it’s there again. The echo of the impossible, that somehow, this moment was written by an outside power. Braysville wasn’t the only town where I could find lumber, and Doug’s wasn’t the only restaurant where I could find food. If I’d left home an hour later or bought a sandwich at the last rest stop, I would never have met these men. What pulled me here to this cabin in the woods? It’s like I’ve followed a breadcrumb trail into the woods and been let in on a secret I wasn’t supposed to overhear.
Reed slumps back onto the couch, spent and stunned, his hand dragging over his face before cupping himself with a sigh. His chest heaves, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and awed.
I sit on my heels, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, my pulse still galloping in my throat. When I dropped to my knees, I knew what I wanted, but now?
Behind me, the others are still watching. I’m in uncharted territory and have no idea what they’ll want or expect to happen next.
Behind me, the couch creaks again.
Finn slowly slides down beside Reed, moving with a fluidity that marks him from his brothers. I don’t look up, but the hush of intention is behind the subtle shift of the air. The sound of denim buttons parting one by one, and the exhale that tells me he’s not just watching anymore, sends a rush of arousal through me.
My gaze flicks up. His intense eyes meet mine, warm and steady. One hand rests on the waistband of his jeans, the other brushes through my hair in a gentle sweep, the way he might caress the highest quality wood or a piece of his beloved furniture.
