Page 46 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Framing his face with my hands, I studied his exquisite features, wishing I could surgically excise his deeply ingrained self-doubts.

Bringing our mouths together, I controlled the pace of our meandering kiss, starting with languid presses, my teeth catching on the fullness of his bottom lip.

As I inched his shirt higher, I parted my mouth, welcoming his eager intrusion. I let him deepen the kiss for a few heart- fluttering moments, but refused to surrender, giving his tongue a teasing nip before pulling away.

As I guided his shirt higher, Wyatt took over. He pulled it off to reveal the chiseled masterpiece of his torso. My fingers trailed along his pecs and abs, circling the Olympic rings tattooed on his ribs, drinking in every detail of his body.

Even the ones that upset me.

The narrowness of his waist and the sharpness of his chin. While his face may have regained color since my heat, any skin that didn’t regularly see the sun was deathly pale.

He gingerly captured my hand, trailing reassuring kisses along my palm.

“I’m doing better.” Nipping at the pad of flesh at the base of my thumb, he said with a suggestive smirk, “And if you keep taking my clothes off, maybe even a lot better.”

“That sounds nice and all…” I hooked a finger in the waistband of his basketball shorts and pulled on the fabric until the elastic went taut. “But I was kind of hoping for desperate.”

Holding his gaze, I released the elastic, which recoiled against his skin with a delicious snap. “Just this once.”

His breath hitched, fingers digging into my hips as his alpha surged forward, aquamarine mist flooding his eyes. “Careful, baby.”

Wyatt bared my upper body, his mouth leaving a winding trail of heated kisses from my navel to the base of my throat, where his laugh pooled in the hollow of my collarbone, igniting an exquisite ache beneath my matching tattoo.

He unclasped my bra and tossed it aside. Cupping both breasts, he savored their weight, how they threatened to spill out of his palms, the way my nipples flushed and hardened, begging for his attention.

Wyatt groaned, nuzzling lower, breathing hard as he buried his face in the valley of my breasts, murmuring between kisses, “Don’t underestimate how much of a needy fucker I can be.”

“Oh, yeah?” Twining my fingers through his hair again, I gathered a solid fistful and gave it a brief but sharp tug. “Prove it.”

Wyatt paused, staring at me with those lust-enchanted blue eyes, making my heart race. Something about my reaction made his pupils dilate—my pheromones or perhaps the first stirring of arousal between my legs—and then he was everywhere.

Hands roving over my curves, mouth sucking at the underside of my breast, teeth digging in just enough to leave a mark without breaking the skin. He kissed the outline of my hip as he peeled my leggings away, mouth sucking longer and harder the closer he got to my pussy.

Shifting onto his knees, Wyatt bared my legs, then he shucked off his basketball shorts.

His cock seemed even thicker than I remembered, with veins just begging to be stroked and sucked.

The need to taste him was too strong. I lunged forward, grasping him behind the knees as I took him into my mouth, jaw stretching to accommodate his girth.

But before I could find my rhythm, Wyatt withdrew.

He grabbed a positioning wedge from the wall of pillows framing the bed, set it in the center of the massive mattress, and turned me around.

“Wait,” I protested as he bent me over the pillow, “I wasn’t—”

Wyatt gave my ass a firm slap. “You’ll get your turn.”

Sinking his fingers into the flesh of my thighs, he urged my knees wider apart and dove in. The movements of his tongue were determined, almost frantic, but it didn’t matter.

My body failed to reward his enthusiasm.

The first tentative brush of his finger against my entrance made me tense up.

Wyatt immediately backed away. “Am—am I doing this wrong?”

“No.” I shifted onto my knees, turning to take him in my arms, dismayed by the tension coiled through his body. “My heat… It let us skip some steps.”

Wyatt’s arms hung limp at his sides. “But you were wet our first time, before Cal gave you anything else.”

“That’s because he spent ages prepping me. You know I’ve had bad heats, and well… Having sex when I’m like this isn’t always—”

“Stop. Don’t say anything else.” Crushing me against his chest, Wyatt buried his face in my neck. “Tell me what you need now .”

“Honestly,” I said, rubbing his tense muscles, “to finish giving you that blowjob—because I do best with pheromones in liquid form. Saliva, sweat, or semen. Purrs help, too.”

“And lube?”

“Always.” Leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his ear, I whispered, “Now, do I get to blow you?”

“I have a better idea.” Wyatt tapped my hip. “As you were.”

While I repositioned myself on the wedge, Wyatt grabbed a bottle of lube from the basket of supplies tucked between the pillows.

“Remember what you said about my scent—how you’ve never wanted anything so much?” He uncapped the lube and applied a liberal amount to his straining length. “That’s me. Right now. Feel like I’m going to explode.”

He knelt behind me, torso draped across my back, hands braced on either side of my head.

“The desperation? It’s real.” Leaving open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders, Wyatt slid his hot length between my thighs. “Feel it.”

The friction wasn’t enough for me, so I pressed my thighs together, prompting a pleased hiss from Wyatt.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Like that. Stay just like that.”

My folds grew slick with lube as his pace increased, trim hips and sculpted quads slapping against my flesh.

As I met his thrusts with a roll of my hips, the head of his cock nudged my clit, prompting thrilling zaps of pleasure to shoot straight to my toes.

Shifting to hold me by the waist, Wyatt deepened the angle of his movements, making more direct contact with my pussy and clit.

“M-more,” I panted, fingers clawing at the covers. “Wyatt, I want—”

He slapped my ass again, making me squirm with pleasure. As his fingers trailed down my outer thigh, I expected him to reach between us to tease my clit, but his hand fell away instead.

I wanted to protest. His hands belonged on me at all times.

But then, his fingers reappeared, glistening with sweat, a breath away from my greedy mouth.

Sucking on his fingers, determined to capture every trace of his boxwood essence, I moaned as his flavor swept across my tongue.

Wyatt leaned forward, pressing the entire length of his torso against my back. The fresh hit of his pheromones amplified his shallow flexes into lightning strikes.

And he purred.

I cried out, bucking at the sensation flooding the length of my spine, but Wyatt held me steady, teasing the entrance of my pussy with short, savage thrusts.

Long black hair brushed against the back of my neck. Sweat dripped onto my bare skin.

“Oh god,” I moaned, gripping the covers.

He laced our fingers together on top of the covers, holding my hands tight as he adopted a punishing pace.

“Ah—ahn!” I gasped, all logical thought swept away by pleasure.

My climax was a slippery, sideways thing, catching me off guard.

The sonorous, contented thrum that echoed from his chest into every far-flung nook and cranny of my body sent a second climax ricocheting through me.

“Got you, Morgan,” he murmured, still purring as he pressed kisses against my neck and shoulders. “I got you.”

“But—you…” Panting, I eased up onto my elbows and looked over my shoulder. “You didn’t finish.”

Wyatt shrugged, brushing sweat-slicked hair away from his face. “Wasn’t about me.”

“That’s not good enough. Not in this nest,” I said, dislodging the wedge and rolling onto my back, still trying to catch my breath. Grabbing the bottle of lube, I admired the tempting thickness of his knot and raised a brow. “Hands or tits. You choose.”

He tried not to look thrilled by my offer, dimples flashing. “Really?”

“Mhm.” I squirted a healthy dollop of lube into my hand. “I might need a lot of extra care, but I give as good as I get.”

“I’ll say.” Wyatt crawled over to me, leaning down to claim a deep kiss before whispering hopefully, “Tits?”

Holding his gaze, admiring the desirous mist swirling along the edges of his irises, I spread the cold gel between my cleavage.

Wyatt straddled my chest, watching with surreal adoration as I pressed my breasts together, encasing his cock in their softness.

“I don’t believe this is real,” he murmured. “Any of this. Kissing you this morning, touching you…” He cupped my cheek. “Or right fucking now, when you look like absolute sin.”

“Me either,” I agreed. “So, we’ll just have to make each other believe it.”

“But—but how?”

“Step one,” I said with a wicked grin. “Move those hips, cowboy.”

The ever-accommodating Wyatt complied—and then some.