Our kiss is molten.
I am the sun under his hands, his fingers holding my face as if I was made of diamonds, precious and delicate, and oh, his touch is reverent but claiming at the same time. With every lingering of his fingers, he brands me with his name, his title, and his soul. And in return he lets me do the same.
The members of the Mercury Moon pack know better than to disturb us. They must now be aware of the sudden shift of dynamic they’d witnessed. Those wolves, unlike wolves from the Aspen pack, must know a matin ritual when they see the start of one.
His calloused hands caress my sides and I arch into his body, lifting from the sticks, leaves, and the soil underneath that digs into my back. Our spit-slick lips glide over one another as we give into the sensuality of it all, th
