Alaric pov :
"Take off your dress."
She trembled, but I didn't give her the space to hesitate or argue. I pulled the fabric down her shoulders, exposing her pale skin and the wet stains of milk that had betrayed her carefully constructed composure. The scent of it—sweet, warm collided with the raw, untamed arousal flooding my veins.
I leaned down. My mouth brushed against her breast and my tongue traced the spill of milk, licking it away with an agonizing, deliberate slowness.
She let out a gasp. Her back arched off the chair, her hands clutch at my shoulders. I felt her knees shaking where she straddled my lap, her soft body melting into my hardened frame with a desperate, practiced ease. It was intoxicating. It was enough to make the Lycan inside me howl in blind, possessive triu
