Chapter 9: Her Wolf

He stayed buried in me for a breath, with his forehead against mine and his whole body shaking.

"Fuck," he said, ragged. "You're so tight."

"It's been five years."

"Then I'll go slow." His hands tightened on my hips. "Too much?"

"If you stop, I'll kill you myself."

He laughed, low, and then he moved.

He pulled out slowly and drove back in, and the stretch of it burned and then it didn't.

My nails dug into his back, over the muscle, and the scar across his ribs split open under my palm.

He growled, and he did not slow.

"Look at me."

I looked.

His eyes were pure gold, with the grey drowned out of them.

"You came apart for me," he said. "I want to see it again."

"Then work for it."

He snarled, and he shifted his angle and hit something deep inside me that made my whole body jerk.

"There," I gasped. "There. Don't stop."

"I'm not going to stop."

He put one hand under my knee and folded my leg up against his chest, and the new angle pulled me open and made me cry out.

He took me harder.

The bed hit the wall in a steady rhythm, and I could hear myself saying his name over and over, with no breath behind it.

My wolf was awake and straining against my ribs, pushing toward him.

Her voice was not a word this time, only a pull.

*Mine.*

I wanted to bite him.

I wanted to put my teeth in him and hold on.

"Do it," he said.

He turned his head and offered me the thick muscle of his shoulder.