Page 8 of Claimed By the Werewolf Boss

Chapter seve n

Valentino

T his is where I want to die. On my knees with my face buried in this delicious fucking cunt and two heavy, soft thighs wrapped around my head. Cum and arousal drip down my chin, clinging to my beard in a way I hope will never wash off.

Stain me, mark me, claim me.

Whatever Cheyenne wants or needs, I’ll give it to her as long as she lets me keep worshipping her pussy.

The taste of her cum on my tongue has ruined my appetite for anything else tonight.

Maybe one more glass of the red so she can finish dinner.

My teeth are sharp, the hair on my body has grown coarser, but I don’t care that I’m on the verge of shifting.

Or coming in my trousers .

Maybe this is the perfect place to wolf out. Nobody will bother us. It’s only me and Cheyenne. Then I can fuck my knot deep inside her like I’ve wanted to for hours.

“Fuck me if you want me to scream.” Her voice is so sure, almost demanding, from her relaxed position on the table. “I’ve got an implant, no STDs, and my last hookup was over six months ago, so I’m good to go.”

I look up at my girl, and a monstrous grin forms on my lips.

“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

She licks her lips as the flush on her cheeks travels to her ears.

Oh, she liked that. I slide out from between her legs and move to stand.

I’m taller than I was when I first knelt, but she doesn’t notice.

Her fingers tremble as she grips my shirt and pulls me towards her. I’ll gladly go wherever she leads me.

She licks into my mouth with a little moan. I balance one hand on the table, bones cracking as my claws scrape against the wood. With the other, I squeeze the base of Cheyenne’s throat around the pulse points. It’s thrumming, her heart pounding a beautiful song just for me.

“What do you like?” she asks as she pulls back. Her lips brush against mine with each breath we share .

“Domination,” I growl. “I like to be in control in a relationship. I want my partner to turn to me for choices because I thrive when I’m taking care of them.”

She makes a little noise, nodding along with my words. “Do you have a title?”

“I don’t need one, but I’m open to talking about it later.”

“Later?”

“Yeah, baby, right now I want to talk about my other kink.” I slide my hand down to her tit again.

Her nipples are softer now, but no less enticing.

Fuck, her breasts are heavy and so perfect.

I want to lie on these pillows every night after I’m done fucking my cum into her.

“The one where I breed your perfect pussy.”

“Oh—” She hesitates, leaning away from me. Her hackles rise at the idea, and I don’t want that.

“What’s that stupid meme?” I groan, trying to bring her back to me. “Marcello sent it to me a while ago with the girl getting her head patted.”

“Only breed, no pregnant,” Cheyenne giggles, her shoulders relaxing as quickly as they tensed up. “So some serious cum play with themed dirty talk?”

“Yeah, kids aren’t something I want, but my mouth can get a mind of its own sometimes.” Like when I transform and my brain moves to my knot. It’s all I can think about, fucking my mate full until she’s got my pup inside her belly.

“I’ ve never looked into it,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe I should write this down.”

“Why?” I ask.

“It sounds like it would be great for a book.” She shrugs. “One of my characters would probably be into it.”

“One of your characters?” I’m still holding her breast, but it feels like we’ve moved away from sex now. I move my hold to her waist. This time she doesn’t flinch or stiffen when I caress her.

“I—” She snaps her mouth shut as if I’m some kind of cop. I really don’t fucking like that. She can tell me anything, big or small, without judgement.

“Whatever it is, Cheyenne, you can tell me.” I try to coax it out of her.

She eyes me for a moment and then her shoulders sag like she’s resigned to tell me. I will find out her secrets one way or another, but seeing her defeated reaction pulls at my heartstrings.

“Sorry, I thought you knew. I’m a romance author. It’s just a side hustle, but I struggle to turn off that side of me,” she confesses softly. “Junelle said you read one of my books today.”

My ears perk up, and momentarily I worry they actually popped out.

I deal with a lot of self-important rich fucks and corrupt politicians who want their dirty secrets to stay quiet.

Nobody’s fame, real or otherwise, has ever interested me.

I’ve also never cared or thought about what it would be like to meet a celebrity.

But my heart does a giddy little stutter when I realise Remi Roman is Cheyenne. A best-selling author. An author who has been on lists before based on the titles above her name on covers.

And she’s demeaning those accomplishments to a side hustle.

“I don’t ever want to hear you sound so dismissive of your talent or yourself again.

” I can’t keep the snarl out of my voice.

“You are fucking amazing, Cheyenne. I know we just met, and this is fucking crazy, but I am very, very interested in you and I want to be with you. Nothing’s going to stop me from having you.

You could tell me to go fuck myself right now, but I’ll still want you, still look out for you. ”

“Is it wrong that doesn’t scare me?” she asks.

A knock at the door stops my answer. We are definitely not fucking on this table despite how amazing that would be.

Probably for the best, I’m going to end up with my knot locked in her cunt while we fall asleep.

She’s not scared of the intensity I’m laying out and that gives me hope.

I kiss the slightly stunned expression on her lips.

“Let’s get you dressed and finish this meal.”

It doesn’t escape me that Cheyenne finishes her glass of prosecco and then switches to sparkling water.

She also eats more, like the orgasm I gave her finally opened up her appetite.

Or maybe it was me hinting at how fucking obsessed I am with her.

I like this, I prefer this. There is no more weird first-date shit happening.

She’s allowing me to see her in her nearly most relaxed state.

Would it be too pushy to have some of the boys at home move her into my house now? That’s probably something to do after I claim her.

“Okay, so what do you do then? Andrea says it’s some family shipping business.” She looks me pointedly in the eyes. “Cause ya know… this whole thing feels like a very specific sort of business .”

She gestures a bit wildly with her fork, a small piece of rabbit clinging to it for dear life.

I love that she’s asking, love what she’s implying to me because it means she’s not scared.

Cheyenne can ask me as much about my business as she wants.

But again, it’s probably something that should happen after my teeth sink into the soft meat of her shoulder and we are supernaturally bound to each other.

“It’s shipping, the Benettis have been in the business of moving nonperishable goods for a very long time.

” Since the first ships sailed from Sicily to the mainland, we’ve been hauling illegally traded goods to those who are happy to pay for them.

Just no people, ever. “I’m the head of the North American branch of the business, based out of Tolson. ”

“Oh, I bet you live in that new Seaport development, don’t you?”

“Right by the airport? Fuck no.” I grimace. “I live near Peters Park.”

“Alright Mr Fancy Pants, no need to show off to the class.”

“But I like it when the teacher pays attention to me,” I tease. “She’s my favourite.”

Cheyenne’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of red. The waiter quietly knocks and then appears with a full tray of tiramisu. They cut fresh slices, place them artfully on new plates, then gently lay flecks of gold leaf on top. I’ve never seen the point in that shit, but she looks enthralled with it.

My girl nods and doesn’t even wait for them to leave before she’s digging in. Her little moan of pleasure as the cream- and espresso-soaked ladyfingers hit her tongue shoots right to my dick. Man alive, how did I get so fucking lucky?

“This might be on par with the orgasm, Valentino, not gonna lie.” She grins.

I take my own bite of dessert and have to politely disagree. Nothing is better than watching her come apart.

“Do you like talking about your books or writing?” I ask. “Or is that something you’d rather talk about over breakfast?”

She opens her mouth to respond, and then I see the light in her eyes sparkle. So she likes that as well, the insinuation of more, the promise that tomorrow I’ll still want her. Little does she know it’s the rest of our lives. There won’t be anything between us once she is truly mine.

“I don’t mind talking about them to people who aren’t judgy,” she says. “Junelle listens to me whine about them almost every day.”

“Whine?”

“I’m about to publish my final MC story for this series.

It’s basically all done and dusted, the date just needs to arrive.

I’m supposed to be announcing a new one with this finale.

” She sets her elbow on the table and leans her cheek into it.

“I had to force most of this last one. I’m not sure I’ve got any more books in me. ”

“Are you writing while you’re here?” I ask.

“I say I am, but then I scroll on my phone for hours and do nothing,” she admits.

“So maybe it’s time to take a break, you’ve got a fancy new Italian boyfriend to hang out with.” I smile cheekily. “Maybe some sightseeing can help with the burnout. ”

She groans loudly. “You sound like Junelle and Andrea.”

I laugh. Clearly, the reason she doesn’t go out and do anything is because she’s working herself into the ground. That explains the little oddity in her file. After the wedding, we can get into the nitty-gritty of her work-life balance. Our trip here should only be about living.

“Do you want to go to a market or something before we head back up to the villa? Souvenirs and shit?”

“I think I’d rather see them after breakfast, if you’re free,” she says, wearing a hopeful, pleading look that I know is going to have me bending over backwards for her in the future.

“Let’s get out of here then, sweetheart. I wanna see you out of this dress.”

It’s a twenty-minute drive back up to the villa.

I’ve driven it hundreds of times before, I know every twist and road sign.

Yet this is the longest it’s ever been. Every traffic light sets my teeth on edge and has me barking with road rage.

Cheyenne giggles at me but claims she’s not going anywhere all the same.

I make her put her number in my phone while we are at one stop.

She sends herself a message quickly so she has mine as well, but I’ll put a tracking app on her device in the morning.

Don’t want to be taking any risks with my mate .

We park, and I don’t miss Dino eyeing me at the gate with a smirk on his lips.

That nosey little shit. While getting out to open Cheyenne’s door, I send a text to the vacation family group chat for a meeting before breakfast. My phone immediately starts going off, but I put it in do-not-disturb mode.

We are not being interrupted.

Cheyenne intertwines her fingers with mine as we walk into the foyer. She looks unsure of what to do next. I hope she doesn’t think I’m changing my mind because, fuck me, she is everything I need right now and for the rest of my life.

“Grab what you need to stay in my suite tonight,” I say. “It’s up the stairs and to the right, last door on the left.”

I kiss her because I can’t stop myself. And why should I?

From what I can hear, most of the villa is either sleeping or doing exactly what I plan to be doing with my mate in a few minutes.

My teeth drag across her bottom lip with hunger just thinking about how her thick thighs are going to feel wrapped around my waist.

But I break the kiss like a good boy. She’s less interested in stopping, but when I tap her ass, Cheyenne gets moving. I watch her go, enjoying the view. I’m disgustedly excited to find out what kind of pyjamas she wears to bed. I hope they tear easily.