Page 53 of Tolerated By the Sigma (Mate Hunt 7)

In an instant, he’d done exactly what I’d said he would do when he lost control—slammed my back into the wall and pinned me there with his body. His finger bones snapped and then morphed to claws, his eyes growing red just long enough for him to tear through the fabric covering my boobs and vag. The lingerie fell to the floor as his fingers shifted back, and then they were spreading my thighs, digging into my legs as I arched against him.

His mouth devoured mine, the sharp canines of his teeth cutting into my lip and tongue as our mouths moved frantically together, but I didn’t care. This was everything I’d wanted from him—his wildness, his fierce need, his hot desire.

And then his fingers were parting my ass cheeks, his erection lined up with my slit, and he was dragging me onto his cock, just slow enough not to hurt me.

We moaned and groaned together as he slowly filled me, stretching my body and hitting nerves I hadn’t realized I’d possessed. His fingers dipped into my wetness and teased my ass cheeks and my back entrance; he wasn’t the guy who did shit halfway.

My cries grew frantic as we rocked and moved together, his mouth leaving mine so it could latch onto one of my nipples, and his teeth scraping my sensitive skin there as I grew closer and closer to the edge.

“Give it to me, Kelley,” he snarled into my ear, one of his slick hands sliding over my neck and burying into my hair, pulling my forehead to his. “Let me feel you lose it on my cock.”

The dirty talk sent me over the edge, and a scream ripped through my throat as pleasure rolled from my head to my toes.

He snarled, pumping into me and losing control with me, throbbing inside me and soaking me with his pleasure.

Nothing was perfect for us, or between us, but if this was our version of imperfection, I would pray for flaws every day of my fucking life.

TWENTY-ONE

Ryder draggedme to my bed and fucked me again, and again, and again, until we could finally breathe without the climax threatening to make us explode. Then, he disappeared into the bathroom for a minute, and came back with a half-wet towel.

“What are you doing?” I murmured to him, too tired and too hungry to move anymore.

“Cleaning you up.” His voice was still gravelly, and I loved it.

“You don’t have to do that.” I reached for the towel, and he caught my hand with his free one. Turning it, he lifted it to his lips and dragged his tongue and teeth over my knuckles as he parted my legs with the other hand and stroked the towel slowly over my inner thighs.

“I never thought I had to,” he told me, flashing me a wry smile as he lifted my hand back to his chest and set it on one of his pecs. My fingers wandered, feeling him up without shame.

“Damn, you’re hot. I’d totally jump you right now if you hadn’t just fucked my brains out,” I murmured, squeezing his whole damned pec.

He gave a low chuckle, his expression calmer than I could ever remember seeing it before. “I’ll feed you so you can go again.”

I snorted, my eyes closing and my hand flattening on that sexy chest of his. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“You’ve got no idea, Kelley.” He continued stroking his towel between my thighs, and yeah, it definitely turned me on again.

The climax was apparently still going strong.

Damned hormones.

“How long do you think we’re going to feel like this?” I asked. “Do guys gossip about how long the climax lasted for them?”

“If they wanted to end up trying to kill each other for talking about their mates like that, they would.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes if they hadn’t been closed. “It’s not talking about your sex life to say, ‘eh, we were horny for about six and a half days,’.”

“You’re talking about werewolf men. Logic doesn’t exactly apply to us when it comes to that kind of thing.” The towel left my skin, and Ryder’s arms slid under me. He lifted me, cradling me to his chest as he strode through the house.

“I thought you were going to let me nap,” I complained. “First Char lesson—I love naps. They should be written into the work laws. One of my favorite shirts says, ‘give me a nap, or give me death.”

Ryder barked out a laugh. “You can nap on the counter, then. I’m not walking away from you right now.”

The possessive words really did it for me.

“Do you have to be so damned sexy all the time?” I grumbled.

“Oh, yeah. I work very hard for it,” he drawled back.

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