Page 11

E ver been so deep in your own head while driving that you blink and somehow, you’re just there ?

At your destination, with no memory of the stoplights or the turns or the road at all?

Yeah. That’s me.

Right now.

Arliss is sitting next to me in the passenger seat like she owns the night. Chin up, eyes bright, a quiet kind of strength radiating off her like wildfire.

Her blonde hair is loose, soft waves tumbling around her shoulders, catching the light and my gaze like a damn magnet.

She looks like she belongs on a throne.

Not in my beat-up truck.

Not next to me.

Her t-shirt clings to those perfect curves and those jeans— holy fucking hell —they’re driving me halfway to crazy.

I’m so hard I can barely shift gears. My whole body’s coiled tight, like one wrong move might shatter me.

I must’ve been speeding, because it feels like we hit my cabin in seconds.

Too fast .

Not enough time to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to say or do next.

“Is this your place?” she asks, eyes wide as we pull up.

Fuck.

I should’ve cleaned.

Or lit a candle.

Or something.

Put out snacks.

Swept the porch.

Hell, anything.

But how was I supposed to know this stunning, chaotic, untouchable girl would look at me tonight and say Take me home?

My palms are sweating.

My heart’s doing its best impression of a stampede.

I nod, clearing my throat.

“Yeah, this is it. Uh, my Alph— my boss, Max —he’s got this thing where he gave all of us on the Crew a stake in the place. Came with a cabin of our own, too.”

Her brows lift. “Wow. That’s smart. The more invested you are, the harder you’ll work for it. Good incentive.”

I grin. I can’t help it.

She gets it.

She gets me.

Just like that. No judgment, no hesitation.

I never realized how much I feared people’s opinions until I met her and I didn’t have to anymore.

With Arliss, I forget all the bullshit.

She’s just good .

Beautiful in a way that’s got nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with how she sees people.

And I swear to God, I better not fuck this up.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting company,” I mumble as I unlock the front door. “Sorry for the mess.”

The place isn’t terrible, but there’s boots and work clothes scattered around like I got in a wrestling match with my laundry and lost.

“Not into housekeeping, huh?” she teases, picking up one of my socks like it’s some rare specimen.

“Shit—gimme that.”

I grab it from her, hurl it in the general direction of the laundry room, and rub the back of my neck, mortified.

She laughs softly and looks around, then says, “It’s bigger than I thought.”

Her eyes snap to mine, and I can see the exact moment she realizes what she said.

I smirk. Can’t help it.

“You just know how to compliment a guy, don’t you, Little Girl?” I tease.

“You can tell I’m good at this, right?” she grins, striking a little pose. “Don’t be jealous of my coolness.”

I chuckle, deep and real.

God, she’s so fucking cute.

And then I’m moving.

Because I can’t stand the space between us.

Can’t breathe with her in the room and not have my hands on her.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” I whisper, reaching for her slowly, carefully.

Like she might vanish if I move too fast.

She stills.

Her breath catches.

Those big blue eyes lift to mine, and I swear I could drown in them.

Everything in me is burning.

And all I can think is please let me be good enough for this girl who just lit my whole world on fire.

“Kian,” she moans my name, and it hits me like a lightning strike straight to the chest—hot, electric, and all-consuming.

It’s not just a sound.

It’s a goddamn symphony.

Fuck that. What do I know about symphonies?

That sound is like the best fucking rock ballad of all time.

And I want to hear it again. And again.

On constant repeat in surround fucking sound.

Mine.

I crush her lips beneath mine, pleading entry so I can drink in her sweet nectar like the desperate beggar I am.

Like I’ve been starved for her my whole fucking life.

And maybe I have.

She stumbles back, and I follow without hesitation, pressing her against the wall, my body hard and unyielding against her softer curves.

She fit against me like she was made to be here.

Like this was always meant to happen.

Yes. Mate. Mine.

My Bull is riding me hard, and for the first time, I am in complete agreement with him.

Arliss is mine.

She is Mo Chroí. My heart.

My fingers skim her waist, up her sides, and fuck, she feels like silk under my calloused hands.

Every inch of her lights me up, burns through the fog of doubt trying to creep in.

I know I’m not good enough for her.

Not even close.

But I don’t care.

I can’t stop.

I won’t.

My Bull roars inside me.

Wild, restless, already aching to claim.

To mark.

To make sure no one ever forgets that she’s mine.

Thoughts claw at the edges of my mind—warnings, fears, all the reasons I should slow down.

The Rut weighs heavily in the back of my consciousness, but tonight I push it aside.

I don’t listen.

I’m deaf, blind, and utterly lost to the woman in my arms.

“Too many clothes,” she breathes, tugging at my shirt like it offends her.

I break the kiss only long enough to tear it off, flinging it somewhere behind me in a blur.

Her shirt is next. Then our pants. By the time I am finished, I am naked as the day I was born and she’s in nothing but her panties.

Black. Cotton.

Thank you, Fates!

I need her hands on me. Now.

“Fuuuuuck,” I groan when her fingers trail over my abs, nails grazing lightly, teasingly, like she knows what she’s doing to me.

She moves up, palms flattening over my chest, to my throat, my jaw—her touch is reverent and wild all at once.

Then she pulls me down for another kiss.

And I go.

Gladly.

Eagerly.

If she told me to set the world on fire, I’d ask her where to light the match.

This kiss.

God, this kiss.

It’s fire and hunger and surrender.

It’s the hottest, most soul-wrecking kiss of my entire fucking life.

And that’s saying something.

I should stop.

I know that.

I know I’m probably all wrong for her.

What if I lose control one day?

What if the Rut hits, and I’m not strong enough to hold it back?

So many things could go wrong.

So many reasons to walk away.

But life doesn’t come with guarantees.

And maybe that’s exactly why I don’t stop.

Her arms snake around my neck, soft and sure, and I hoist her up with a growl.

Her legs wrap tight around my waist, her center pressing against the hard planes of my stomach.

Holy. Fuck.

I can feel the heat of her, even through the thin barrier of her soaked panties.

And I lose it.

A low, primal sound rumbles from deep inside me. It’s my Bull rising, claiming, needing.

It vibrates against her chest, and she shudders in my arms.

I lean forward and lick a trail from her neck to her plump, ripe breast. I suck on her tight little nipples.

Like cherries.

Arliss whimpers and tugs at my hair.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” I rasp, dragging my mouth away from her perfect tits.

I lick along her neck, my tongue flicking against her pulse. “Are you wet for me, Arliss? Is your pussy ready to be filled?”

Her head falls back, a moan slipping free.

“Oh God. Yes.”

My eyes flutter shut for half a second as gratitude crashes into me like a wave.

Thank you.

Thank you for her.

For this moment.

For finally letting me have something that feels real.

I carry her through the cabin like a man on a mission.

Because that is exactly what I am.

I’ve waited long enough.

No more hesitation. No more fear.

Tonight, I take what’s mine.

I lay her on the bed, gently but with purpose, stepping back just long enough to drink her in.

Her flushed skin.

Her kiss-swollen lips.

Her chest rising and falling in rapid little gasps.

She’s perfect. All soft skin and curves and secrets.

And she's all mine.

I run my hands from her shoulders down her chest, stopping to appreciate the heavy swell of her breasts. Her skin is beautiful.

Peaches and cream. Silky smooth softness.

I groan, dropping to my knees at the edge of the bed like I’m worshipping at the altar of her body.

She smells of wildflowers and sugar cane.

Like spring rain and promises.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, Mo Chroí ,” I whisper, reverent.

She leans up on her elbows, her blue eyes wide. I fucking love how comfortable she is in her skin.

I mean, my mate is gorgeous, but everyone has insecurities. Only, my woman doesn’t seem bothered by them in the here and now with me, and it makes me so damn humble and so proud of her.

She reaches for me and I can’t help it.

My breath catches.

She is so full and soft. So lush.

Arliss is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

I lean forward and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking slowly while rolling the other between my fingers. She arches off the bed, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Kian!”

The sound of my name like that— pleading, desperate, hungry —unlocks something feral in me.

I trail kisses down her stomach, nipping and licking every inch of skin I can find. Her panties are the last barrier, and I peel them down along her thick thighs and shapely calves in one fluid motion.

Then I pause.

Just to look.

To admire.

She’s wet.

Her pussy is pink with neatly trimmed hair framing her lips. She’s all glossy and glistening, thighs trembling, and I can’t wait to have her.

“Look at you,” I murmur, dragging my fingers through her slick folds, teasing her clit. “So ready for me. Good girl.”

She whimpers, hips rocking up to meet my hand.

I fall in face first, desperate to taste her from the source.

Tongue flat, I lick a long, slow stripe up her center, then circle her clit with slow, deliberate precision.

“Oh fuck,” she cries, clutching the sheets.

I slide two fingers inside her, curling just right, and her body jerks, thighs closing around my head. But I don’t stop. I devour her.

Every moan, every tremble, every plea.

Mine. All mine.

She comes fast and hard, crying out my name, and I ride it out, tongue and fingers never slowing until she’s panting and spent beneath me.

Then I stand.

I grab my hard cock, and I stroke myself.

Once. Twice.

Rubbing that pearl of precum around my mushroomed head.

I let her see exactly what she’s getting.

Her eyes go wide.

“You’re so big, Kian.”

I nod. Because yeah. I am big.

“I’ll go slow. The first time.”

I climb over her, settling between her thighs, lining myself up.

“Tell me to stop,” I whisper, even though I pray she won’t.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispers back, wrapping her legs around me.

And then I’m pushing inside her.

Inch by inch, slow and reverent until I’m buried to the hilt.

We both gasp.

She’s tight.

Warm. Perfect.

I have to grit my teeth not to come right then and there.

She’s clinging to me, hands gripping my back, nails digging in as I start to move.

Long, slow thrusts at first.

Letting her feel every thick inch of me.

“Look at us. Look how your slick clings to my cock. Ah fuck, Mo Chroí , you were made for me.”

I slam my hips to hers, swiveling my hips, grinding against her needy clit.

“More, Kian,” she begs, voice breaking. “Please. I need you.”

And it’s exactly what I need to hear before I unleash my Bull.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I want you, Kian. Please.”

So I give her everything.

Drive into her like she’s mine.

Because she is.

“Mine,” I growl.

I rear up, kneeling between her thighs, and I lift her hips.

Then I fuck her like I was made for it.

Like she’s the only woman I’ve ever touched.

Because after this she will be.

“ Mo Chroí ,” I groan, my palm pressed to her chest as I slide deeper inside her tight heat. “You ruin me.”

I hold her gaze, making sure she is with me every step of the way.

Arliss cries my name, and I feel it. I feel her coming hard around me.

“Fuucckk,” I growl because this right here—the feel of her tight, pulsing, trembling all around me—pulls my orgasm from deep inside my balls.

I empty myself into her with a roar, bucking into her like the beast that I am. I cage her in, pressing my mouth to her neck, and lost in the moment, I bite with blunt teeth hard enough to leave a scar.

Arliss yelps, but then her cunt pulses, squeezing me as she succumbs to another, stronger orgasm.

And I follow her right over the edge.

Completely lost in her, in us.

And afterward, I hold her like I never want to let go.

Because I don’t.

I will not.

“You’re mine, Mo Chroí . Forever mine.”

And it’s a promise I will never break.