“Oh, Laken.”
My mate kisses me like I’m made of gold and diamond. His arms brace his body, strong on either side of my head, buried in the tousled sheets. He hovers above me, our fully clothed bodies not touching, and his knees are bent on either side of my thighs.
As soon as we’d come to our bedroom after the dinner and subsequent dance with Laken’s parents as well as our fellow pack members, Laken had pushed me against the wall and started to kiss me mercilessly. His lips attacked mine as if he was a man starved and I was made of ambrosia. I immediately relented to the assault, of course, kissing Laken was something I’d enjoy even on my deathbed, I’m certain now.
He plundered my mouth, for the lack of a better word. I did not know what had made him so rough, perhaps it was the wine we
