The Captain Claim

Six

CALLUM

I kissed her again, harder this time, and walked her backward until her back hit the window. The glass was cold behind her but I was all heat in front, and she arched into me with a gasp. I took advantage of her surprise, my hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve, committing every inch of her to memory.

I trailed my lips down the column of her throat. My teeth scraped against her skin and she shivered, her hands gripping my shoulders like she needed something to hold onto.

"Callum," she breathed.

The sound of my name on her lips nearly undid me. I found the hem of her shirt and slid my hands underneath, feeling the soft warmth of her stomach. She squirmed against me and I could feel her heart racing beneath my touch.

I pulled her shirt off and tossed it somewhere behind me. Her bra followed. Then she was bare from the waist up, her skin glowing in the moonlight, and I had to stop and just look at her. She was perfect. Mine.

I leaned down and took one n****e into my mouth. My tongue swirled around the hard peak and she cried out, her hands tangling in my hair, holding me to her. I switched to the other breast and gave it the same attention, sucking and biting gently until she was writhing against me.

"Please," she whimpered.

I loved hearing her beg. Loved knowing I could reduce her to this—desperate and needy and completely at my mercy.

My hands slid down her body, over her hips and thighs, until I reached the hem of her jeans. I slipped my hands underneath and found the edge of her panties. I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric, could feel how wet she already was, and it took everything in me not to rip the damn things off and bury myself inside her.

But I wanted to draw this out. Wanted to hear her beg more. Wanted to make her scream my name until her voice gave out.

I traced the edge of her panties with my fingers, teasing her, driving her crazy without giving her what she really wanted.

"Callum," she panted, her hips moving against my hand. "Please."

I smiled against her neck. My fingers finally slid underneath the fabric and found her wet heat. She moaned, her whole body arching into my touch, and I could feel her trembling.

I stroked her slowly, building her pleasure, feeling her body respond to every movement of my fingers. She was close. I could tell by the way her breathing changed, by the way her muscles tensed.

I pulled my hand away.

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at me with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Why did you stop?"

I didn't answer. Just picked her up and carried her to the bed. She bounced when I tossed her onto the mattress, and I took a moment to appreciate the sight—her body spread out before me, her skin flushed, her eyes dark with need.

I started to strip. Slowly. Deliberately. I watched her watch me, saw the way her breath hitched when I pulled my shirt over my head, the way her eyes tracked my hands when I unbuckled my belt.

I stopped when I got down to my boxers. My erection strained against the fabric, and I could see the hunger in her eyes.

I climbed onto the bed and straddled her hips, my hands planted on either side of her head. I leaned down until my lips hovered just above hers, until our breaths mingled.

"Touch me," she whispered.

I smiled. My body rubbed against hers, my erection pressing against her core through the thin barrier of our remaining clothes. "Not until I'm ready."

She whimpered. Her hands reached for me but I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Callum," she protested.

I just continued to move against her, grinding my hips into hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. I could feel her body responding, could hear her breath coming faster, could see the frustration building in her eyes.

"Tell me you're mine," I growled against her ear. "Tell me you belong to me."

"I'm yours," she gasped. "Only yours."

The words sent a surge of possessive satisfaction through me. My wolf preened. Yes. Ours. All ours.

I released her wrists and my hands slid down her body. I hooked my fingers into her jeans and panties and pulled them down in one smooth motion. Now she was completely bare beneath me.

Mine.

I shed my boxers and positioned myself at her entrance. I could feel her heat, her wetness, and it took every ounce of control I had not to just slam into her.

"Look at me," I commanded.

Her eyes met mine.

"You're mine, Lila. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Callum. Yours."

I pushed inside her in one slow, deep thrust.

We both groaned. She was tight and hot and perfect around me. I stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting myself savor the feeling of finally being inside her.

Then I started to move.

I set a punishing pace, each thrust hard and deep and claiming. This wasn't gentle lovemaking. This was possession. This was marking her as mine in every way that mattered.

"Who do you belong to?" I growled.

"You," she gasped. "Only you, Callum."

"That's right. Mine. Only mine. No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to make you feel like this."

My hand slid between our bodies and found her c**t. I rubbed it in tight circles and felt her clench around me.

"Come for me," I demanded. "Come on my c**k and scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to."

She shattered. Her whole body convulsed, and she screamed my name, her inner walls clamping down around me so tight I saw stars.

I thrust through her orgasm, drawing it out, making it last, until finally my own release roared through me. I buried myself as deep as I could go and came with a roar, filling her, marking her, making her mine in the most primal way possible.

We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. I rolled onto my back and pulled her against my chest, my arms wrapping around her possessively.

"Mine," I thought as I sniffed into her hair. "You're mine now, Lila. And I'm never letting you go."