My Not-Yet Mate and the Thirty-Day Trial novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Bedroom Door

Laney takes Joss to her iron bed, rides him slow and bites his shoulder, and finds that wanting him is entirely her own.

I pushed him down onto my grandmother's quilt and climbed on after him.

The iron bed frame took his weight with a creak I felt in my teeth.

I knelt over his hips in my black underwear, and the lamp on the nightstand lit up every inch of him.

"Jeans," I said.

He lifted his hips and undid them himself.

I helped him shove them down along with his boxers, and then I just looked.

He was thick and heavy and hard, flushed dark at the tip and already wet.

He lay against his stomach.

I wrapped my hand around him.

My fingers did not quite meet.

He grunted, and his head dropped back on my pillow.

"Laney. Slow."

"I'm barely moving."

"I know. That's the problem."

I stroked him once, root to tip, with a slow twist at the head.

His hips came off the bed.

"Fuck," he said. "Do that again."

I did it again, and then I leaned down and licked a long wet line up the underside.

He swore in a voice I had never heard him use, and one of his hands fisted in the quilt.

I took him in my mouth just far enough to taste him, salt and heat, and I felt him tremble under me.

Then I sat up and wiped my mouth on my wrist.

"Not like that," I said. "Not tonight. I want you inside me the first time."

"Then come here."

"I'm coming."

I pulled off my underwear.

I straddled him, and I put him against me and slid the head back and forth through the slickness he had already made.

We both groaned.

"Laney," he said, and it was almost a prayer. "Look at me."

I looked.

His hazel eyes were dark and wide, and there was nothing in them that told me what to do.

There was only wanting, plain and his own.

I sank down onto him.

It was slow, because he is big, and I took him an inch at a time with my nails digging into his chest.

The stretch burned and then it turned into something else.

"Oh, God," I said. "Oh, fuck, you're so..."

"I know."

"Don't move."

"I'm not moving. I'm not moving."

His hands had come up to my hips but he held them there without gripping, and his whole body strained.

I took the last inch and sat fully on him, and for a moment neither of us breathed.

He was so deep that I felt him against something that made my vision go white at the edges.

"There," I whispered. "Okay. There you are."

I rolled my hips, once, experimentally.

He made a broken sound.

"Again," he said.

"Hands on me."

He gripped my hips, and he held me firm and let me set the rhythm.

I rode him slowly at first, long strokes that took him almost all the way out and then back in.

I watched his face while I did it.

I had never seen a man so openly wrecked by what I was doing to him, and I loved it.

"You feel so good," he said. "Laney. You feel so good."

"Tell me."

"You're tight. You're hot. You're so wet it's running down my balls."

I laughed, breathless, and clenched around him on purpose.

He swore and his hips jerked up into me.

"That's the one," I said. "Do that."

He thrust up, slow and deep, in time with my rhythm.

The iron bed started to knock softly against the wall.

I braced my hands on his chest and leaned into it, and the angle changed.

The head of him dragged against the exact place inside me that the counter fingers had found.

"Joss," I said. "There. Right there. Don't change anything."

"I won't. I won't change anything."

I heard myself getting louder.

I did not care if every wolf on the county road heard me.

It was a good bed, and I had a good reason.

The pleasure built from low in my belly, wide and hot, and I rode him harder to meet it.

His hand slid between us and found my clit with his thumb.

"Is this where?"

"Yes. Yes."

He rubbed me in tight steady circles, the same pressure he had used in the kitchen.

I fell forward onto my elbows with my mouth against his shoulder.

His skin smelled like cedar and sweat.

It smelled like him, only him, with no old law underneath it.

Something savage rose in me then, and I opened my mouth and bit down on the muscle of his shoulder.

Not the soft place where the neck meets it.

That spot belongs to day thirty.

I bit the thick muscle above it, hard enough to leave my teeth.

He roared.

It was not a word, only a raw sound of pleasure, and his hips slammed up into mine.

"Again," he gasped. "Do it again."

I bit him again, a little lower, and he shuddered under me.

"Laney, I'm close."

"Not yet."

"I can't..."

"Not yet."

He closed his eyes and held on.

I felt the effort of it shake through his whole body, and that nearly sent me over.

"Roll us," I said. "Now."

He flipped me onto my back in one smooth move that I felt all the way down my spine.

I was pinned under three hundred pounds of muscle and I loved it.

My legs wrapped around his waist.

He pushed back inside me, deep and slow, and kissed me.

"I've got you," he said against my mouth.

"I know you do. Go harder."

He braced himself on both arms and gave me what I asked for.

His hips slapped against mine, the bed banged on the wall, and the whole house seemed to shake with us.

I dug my heels into the backs of his thighs and urged him on.

"More," I said. "Fuck me, Joss. Don't hold back."

"Do it."

He did.

He drove into me with long deep strokes that pushed me up the bed an inch at a time.

I had to grab the iron rails above my head.

Every thrust hit me exactly where I needed it.

His eyes never left mine.

"Look at you," he said. "Take it. That's my girl."

I felt the words land low in my belly.

Nobody had ever called me that.

I had thought I would hate it.

"Again," I said.

"That's my girl. You take me so well. Come for me, Laney."

I came with a cry that tore out of my chest.

My whole body clamped down on him, and I saw white behind my eyes, and I felt his breath stutter above me.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck, Laney, you're squeezing me..."

"Come inside me," I managed. "Now. Please."

He drove into me three more times and then buried himself deep and came with a long shaking groan.

I felt him pulsing inside me, hot and heavy.

I wrapped my arms around his back and held him through it.

He collapsed onto his elbows, face in my neck, panting.

For a while we only breathed.

My heart was slowing down, and my legs were still wrapped around him, and the quilt was a wreck.

"I want you to know something," he said into my hair.

"What?"

He lifted his head.

His eyes were wet and happy and a little wild.

"I thought a quiet bond meant I wouldn't feel this much," he said. "I've never felt like this in my life."

I touched the red mark of my teeth on his shoulder.

"That one's mine," I said.

"It is," he said. "Go ahead and look at it all you want."

He kissed me slowly, and we stayed like that until our breathing evened out.

I fell asleep with his arm across my waist and his heartbeat against my back.

I woke in gray light with his erection pressed hot and hard against the base of my spine.

He was still asleep, breathing slow, and his body had started wanting me without him.

I reached back and found him with my hand.

He woke on a groan, and his arm tightened around my waist.

"Morning," I said.

"Laney. God. Don't stop."

"I wasn't going to."

I tilted my hips and guided him between my thighs from behind, and he slid into me on one long slow push.

We lay spooned on our sides with the quilt kicked off, and I had never been so full or so lazy.

He moved in me in small deep rolls and held my breast in one big palm.

His other hand found my clit, and his mouth found my ear.

"That's it," he said, rough with sleep. "Take it easy. Just feel it."

"I feel everything."

"Good. Because you are getting taken care of this morning."

I came slowly, a long soft wave that curled my toes into the sheet.

He followed with his face pressed into my hair and my name caught in his throat.

Afterward he stayed inside me for a long time, kissing the back of my shoulder.

When he finally slid out, I rolled over and looked at the cord on my wrist in the daylight.

It had not changed.

It was just a piece of red wool, scratchy and ordinary, and it had not told me to do one thing.

Everything I had done last night was mine.

I lay in bed beside a man I had chosen, with my teeth marks on his shoulder.

I was happier than I had been in years.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

DENA: HEIFER DOWN AT THE CLINIC BARN. BREECH. BRING YOUR BOY.

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