Page 40 of Kidnapped Rejected Mate
We kiss deeply but quietly, keeping our sounds muffled and careful so as not to wake his grandfather up. At least he’s on the other side of the house, far enough that as long as we’re not loud, he won’t hear a thing.
Soren walks me backward toward the bed, his hands hot and needy over my body, gripping at my hips, sliding down the waistband of my shorts.
I’ll need to get new clothes. Or I’ll need to see if my parents are willing to let me take my things. I still have no grasp on just how angry they’re going to be about all this.
But right now, I don’t care.
All I can focus on is the feeling of Soren’s skin against mine, the intoxicating scent of him in this room. He pulls away to flip on a lamp, and I turn around, shimmying out of my shirt.
Soren returns to me, pressing his chest against my back, moving my hair to the side so he can return his teeth to that tender, aching, lovely spot on my neck. His mating mark.
He skims his teeth over it, breathing hard and shallow, but doesn’t make a move to bite there again.
I know he won’t until I reciprocate. He won’t bite me again until he knows for sure that’s what I want.
It turns out he enjoys being behind me, because he splays his hand over the small of my back, pushing me down, and I reach up for a pillow to cradle to my chest as he positions himself behind me, his hands insistent on my hips, tugging me back into his hardening length.
Part of me worries that doing it like this—against the side of the bed—might be a little too loud. Another part of me simply doesn’t care. We’ve been reunited for a little more than a week. I don’t know if this infatuation with him will ever fade, but even if it does, I know it won’t happen for a long, long time.
Our clothes come off, and he slides into me, muffling his moan into my back, his hands gripping impossibly tight on my ample hips. With him, I feel like each inch of my body is sacred, special. He takes it slow, steady, thrusting with a quiet desperation that buries him deeper and deeper each time, until I have my mouth open on the pillow to muffle the sounds I can’t help but let out.
When his knot starts to form, I rock back into him, wanting it as deep inside me as I can possibly manage. He growls and chases the feeling, too, until we’re as close as two people can possibly be.
Later, after Soren has shifted us fully onto the bed, his body curled around mine, his breathing soft on the back of my neck, he whispers, gently, “I love you, Aurela.”
I want to bite him, to mark him back, but I can’t in this position. So instead, I lift his hand to my mouth as his knot continues to pump away inside me, releasing him slowly and surely, and place the tiniest bite to the soft part between his thumb and pointer finger.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, my lips against his skin, and I think that this is the happiest I’ve ever been.
Chapter 21 - Soren
“Soren?!”
I wake to the sound of Gramps’s voice, and the knowledge that he’ll be bursting through the door at any moment. My cock is still buried deep inside my mate, and half-hard, but I pull out and roll off the side of the bed. Bleary-eyed with sleep and stumbling over to the door, I catch it just in time so it only opens an inch before he can peer in at me.
One of my worries while at the cabin was that I would return and find him much sicker than before. But he’s been going to play bridge, and both Lach and Xeran came around to check on him. The fridge is full of food I didn’t cook, which means it likely came from one of them.
“Hey, Gramps,” I say now, my voice rough from sleep.
He peers in, a floating eye between the door and the frame. “Who’s in there?” he asks cheekily, his cane thumping against the door. “And when can I meet her?”
Aurela starts to stir, sitting up in bed. I know that if she moves too much, the sheet will slip.
“We’ll all go out for breakfast,” I say, forcing the door shut as gently as I can. “Just give us a second to get ready.”
When the latch clicks into place, I sigh in relief and turn around to find Aurela sitting up and staring at me, her hands to her chest, holding the sheet in place.
The sight of her is a shock to my system, and for the first time since I was a teenager, I find myself wishing I didn’t live with my grandfather, that she and I could have a little more privacy.
That I could do whatever I wanted with her, at least for the rest of the day.
And I think that she might be thinking the same thing, too, wishing I lived alone like a normal man, until she beams at me, her entire face brightening.
“We’re going for breakfast?” she asks, already hurrying out of bed. “Do you have anything I can wear?”
After Aurela slips into the shower, I call Maeve, asking if she might have something for Aurela to borrow. Maeve appears on our doorstep five minutes later with a huge bag, filled to the brim with what I know are pieces from her clothing line.
“All prototypes,” she says, smiling at me. “Free of charge. Just tell her to flaunt the label if she catches anyone looking.”
