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“I want your cock inside me, Emin.”

A full-body shudder works the length of me at the sound of her asking, telling me exactly what she wants.

Veva, my mate. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life—the only woman I really see , period. Even the anticipation of having her is better than any sex I’ve had in the past ten years.

The taste of her is still on my lips, the shaking, desperate feeling of licking into her thrumming through my body, through my blood. I’ve never gone down on her before—as kids, I wasn’t even really aware that was an option.

But when I first scented her, when I’d pressed my thigh between her legs in the living room and realized just how wet she was, what that slick was doing to her—I knew I wanted to taste her. To get her on my lips, my tongue.

My fantasies of her over the years, of the woman she might have grown into, didn’t do her justice.

Her eyes are dark, hooded as she stares at me, and her legs are warm, loose.

I drop my lips to her neck, breathing hard against the skin there, stopping to bite and kiss at her pulse point, that part of her that smells most like her.

“Okay,” I murmur, knowing the brush of my lips against her skin is making her shiver. “Whatever you want, baby.”

She starts to writhe beneath me, desperate, and I kick my sweats off, letting my cock free. I’m so fucking hard, the tip sensitive to the brush of the sheets as I move, twitching eagerly.

I’m good with my hands—I know that. I can build anything from a pile of scrap wood. But right now, getting her fucking pajama top off feels like solving a puzzle cube, one that just gets more and more frustrating with every second she’s not naked before me.

In a brief, momentary break from the suffocating lust around us, Veva laughs, that sound breathless and dry, as she lifts up from the bed, grabs the top, and hurls it to the other side of the room.

Fuck—her bare chest is a thing of beauty.

I could drown myself in the miles of smooth skin, but I’m too captivated by her nipples, taut and warm, and the way they feel under my tongue, the way she arches her back and thrusts her fingers into my hair when I touch them, tugging my face toward her until I really am suffocating.

“Ease up, baby,” I murmur, biting her gently so she’ll let me go, but that’s the wrong move—even this gentle bite on her nipple reminds me of what I should be doing to her right now.

To my mate.

Biting her, marking her, merging our scents together.

Telling everyone in this pack—everyone on this damned continent—that this woman belongs to me.

A mark ten years too late, and something I’d do this exact second, if my logical mind didn’t push to the front, forcing me to shove the impulse to mark her way down inside me.

Veva might be my mate, but I’m damn sure she doesn’t want me to mark her.

That if I bit her, she would hate me for it.

So I don’t. I bite down on the inside of my lip, wait for that impulse to pass, focus on my hands and how I’m touching her, drawing her pajama shorts and panties down her hips, knowing the press of my cock there—near her entrance, but not inside her—is driving her insane.

Veva throws her hands over my shoulders, digs her nails into my back, murmurs in my ear, her voice low and mewling, pleading, until the words merge together and all that’s left is a long, low, needy sound from her lips.

I’m torn—part of me loves her like this. Clinging and desperate, needing me. The other part of me can’t stand being outside of her for another fucking minute.

So I brace my arms on either side of her head and notch my tip against her entrance, watching her face, loving the look of anticipation, frustration, raw, unfettered want in her expression.

Veva bites her lip, tips her head back, brushes her bangs from her forehead. When she meets my eyes again, part of my commanding woman is back, taking over to get what she wants.

“Just fucking do it,” she snaps. Then, rolling her hips, she throws her head back against the pillow and practically whines, “ Please , Emin.”

It’s the combination of those things—her demand, then the pleading, then the sound of my name on her lips that pushes me over the edge, my final thread of restraint snapping. I’ve spent the past ten years without her, and I can’t survive another second of the deprivation.

When I sink an inch into her, I have to stop and suck in a breath, steady myself.

She’s so tight around me, spots start to flash around my vision. Arms shaking, I take her inch by inch.

So far, having Veva again has been a lesson in resistance. Resisting the urge to thrust into her, to seat myself inside of her fully. Resisting the urge to let my urges take over, to have her, wreck her, let that feral beast inside me control the pace and rhythm.

What feels like an eternity, Veva has taken my length. She shifts, a strange expression crossing her face as her body accommodates me.

After this, it’s going to be difficult for me to give her a good time, to stretch this out. I’m so fucking close to bursting that even the knowledge of being this deep in her is bringing me close to the edge, cock twitching with the urge to come inside her.

“What?” I rasp, watching her face, wanting to make sure I’m not hurting her. “Are you—”

“You’re bigger than I remember,” she breathes, fluttering her eyes open and rolling her hips once, damn near shattering all my reserve. “It’s…nice.”

That makes me laugh. Here I am, soaked in her slick, drowning in the scent of her heat, going absolutely out of my mind with the need to fuck her senseless, and she’s just called my dick “nice.”

“Nice?” I ask, sliding out, watching as the smile drops right off her face.

Thrusting back in, I watch her mouth open in an ‘o’ shape, eyes shutting again, one of her hands rising to grip the bed frame.

I slide out, thrust in again, hands a vice on her hips.

“I’m going to need you to come up with a much better word that nice , Veva. ”

When I pull out again, she opens her eyes, levels my gaze and says, “Then show me something other than nice, Emin.”

The word fuck comes out of me so fast I’m not sure I actually say it. Body taking over, I grab her hips and flip her, pushing her down into the mattress, yanking her ass until it’s flush with my hips.

“Fine,” I growl, slapping her ass, gripping her hip, then taking a handful of her hair with my other hand. “I won’t be nice, baby. That’s what you want?”

She nods, her hair tugging against my hand, and I slide inside her, the sensation of fucking her from the back so carnal and raw that it takes me over, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the room, her moans and whimpers and screams rising and falling.

Veva throws her head back, rocking her hips into me violently, taking me so well that I have to keep myself from curling over her and biting the nape of her neck, marking her.

I want to. I want to mark her, make sure no other man on this planet ever even thinks of having this woman like this, touching her, seeing her body. She belongs to me, only.

But I don’t. I bury my cock inside her, feel the knot forming, growing, pulsing inside her.

I release into her, the hot, sticky liquid mixing with her slick and making an absolute mess of the sheets.

I roll her onto her side, my knot still inside her, pulsing for minutes on end.

I kiss just behind her ear, tuck her hair to the side, skim my fingers over her bare hip.

All that, but I don’t mark her.

I won’t.

No matter how much I want to.