He growls, low and seductive, like he’s already claimed what’s his—and isn’t above reminding me. In one swift move, he pulls the dress from my body, tossing it aside like it offended him.
His lips trail a path down my chest, over my stomach, tongue teasing and teeth catching every few inches in ways that make my breath hitch. His hands stay clamped firmly around my ass, possessive and deliberate. Like he’s anchoring me here. Like I might float away if he lets go.
Gosh, I’m soaked. He hasn’t even touched me properly and I’m already losing it.
The bulge under his shorts is shameless, tight and proud. My wolf, Ailm, is practically panting.
Take. Mate. Now.
But I flip us with a smirk, watching his eyes darken as his back hits the lounge cushion. I straddle him, slow and teasing, just to a
