Page 72 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
“Marigold,” he groaned. She loved the way he said her name, breaking it into three syllables. Mer-ree-gold.
He pumped into her. She moaned into his hand. His claws scratched into the wood.
“You are mine,” he said, his mouth at her ear. He nipped the lobe. “You are my mate. You will stay.”
She couldn’t tell him that the situation was more complicated than what he or she wanted, not when he pounded into her and her body screamed yes.
Pinned against the door, she marveled at his strength. Her heels kicked and dug into his back. He kept whispering sweetly possessive promises, and she wanted to believe. Needed to believe. Somehow, for some reason, the universe took her down a twisting path that brought her to this moment, to this man and his guarded heart, and she wanted it. Wanted him. Every breath. Every morning. One face. His face.
His mouth pressed at the junction of her neck and shoulder. He sucked before his rough tongue licked. “I need to bite you. Mark you.”
“Yes,” she breathed. Definitely no going back now.
Fangs sank into her flesh, twin pricks that flared with fire. Pleasure erased pain, or the pain made the pleasure sharper. Brighter. Everything about Winter’s touch felt bright. The bite would scar, and everyone would see his claim, his brand.
Her climax tore through her, swift and hard. Winter came moments later, mouth still clamped on her shoulder. Their bodies remained locked together, their hearts beating in sync.
Eventually, Winter pulled his mouth away and licked the bite. “Are you hurt?”
“A bit sore.” Her legs wobbly in the most wonderful way as she tried to stand on her own.
“I meant your shoulder.”
“Oh.” Her hand drifted to the bite. It felt tender but did not bleed. “I have some ointment in my bag.”
Winter guided her to the forgotten bed. She sat on the edge while he rummaged through her bag, eventually retrieving a tube of antibiotic ointment and a fresh pair of panties. With tender attention, he applied the cream. Crouched at her feet, he parted her thighs and sat still, as if examining his handiwork. With a satisfied growl, he guided her feet into the fresh pair of underwear.
The used pair he carefully folded and stuffed in his pocket.
“Starting a collection?” she asked, rolling her shoulder to gauge any stiffness. Tomorrow it’d be tender.
His ears flicked forward. “Yes. Now, we have matters we need to discuss. You are my mate. Tomorrow, we will file whatever form we must to make it official.”
“Okay,” she agreed. His tail did a thing, not exactly a jerk but like a slump of relief. “But—”
Looming over her, his ears were silhouetted against the dim light, then he growled. Her thighs squeezed together because that wasn’t hot, at all.
“But you are unsure.”
“No. Oddly, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said, surprising herself.
“Fine. Let us negotiate,” he said, not moving. “I paid off the debt to that obnoxious male.”
His words yanked her away from the floating bliss she had been feeling. She squirmed to free herself, pushing ineffectively at his chest. “That’show you open negotiations? I really hope your cousin is better at business than that. But when?”
“Before we left Olympus Station.”
“Get off me.” She shoved at him until he stood and extended a hand to help her to her feet.
Stubbornly, she ignored him and rolled to the side. Stumbling to her feet, she tugged on her trousers.
“You are upset.”
“No,” she said, because that debt no longer loomed on the horizon like a black hole pulling her inescapably forward. “Yes.”
“Explain.”
“Because this is my problem, not yours.”
