Page 14

I ’d just hung up with Gramps, who insisted, for the third time , that he could make his own damn toast.

“I’ve been feeding myself since long before you were even an idea,” he grumbled.

I already told him I was with Kian, or as Gramps knows him, the Romeo cowboy I met at the rodeo last month. We don’t have secrets from each other, and I am well over the age of consent.

“Don’t worry about me. Mrs. Stevens is coming at noon to play Bridge with her famous tuna casserole. You just go handle whatever hot mess you got going on over there, and when you’re done, bring the boy by. Gotta make sure he’s up to par for my grandbaby.”

My heart squeezed.

But I kept it light.

“Play nice, Gramps. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Truthfully?

I wasn’t sure I’d make it back today.

Because once Kian had finally managed to herd the last goat, duck, and chaotic Bear cub out of his cabin, he’d started picking up the wreckage like it was just a normal morning.

Meanwhile, I bolted for the shower like a coward.

I needed a moment to breathe.

To think.

To not think about how hard I’d fallen for a man who’d turned my whole reality upside down and still somehow made me want to climb him like a tree.

But the second I stepped out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to my skin, I heard him behind me.

“Here.”

His voice was low.

All gravel and heat.

It slid across my damp skin like silk.

I didn’t even have to look.

My body already knew he was there.

Goosebumps erupted along my arms, down my spine, curling around my thighs like a promise.

I turned slowly, and yep, there he was .

Leaning in the doorway like sin in sweatpants, shirtless, barefoot, all thick muscle and ink and pure male hunger.

He held out some clean clothes towards me. A pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

“Figured you’d want something to put on.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice breathier than I meant it to be.

But I couldn’t stop staring.

At the curve of his biceps, the way the black ink wrapped around his upper arm like a secret meant just for me.

His whiskey brown eyes glittered down at me, and I just took a moment to appreciate the size of him.

I studied the way his chest rose and fell, each breath controlled and coiled tight.

Kian was a work of art. He was raw male beauty, and muscle designed for a purpose, not just to preen.

He was holding himself back.

And God help me, I didn’t want him to.

His eyes met mine, dark and blazing, and his jaw clenched as he took a step closer.

“You keep looking at me like that, Mo Chroí ,” he said, voice like a warning wrapped in a growl, “and breakfast’s gonna get cold.”

I swallowed. Hard.

His gaze slid over me, slow and possessive, like he was already undressing me with his eyes, even though I was still wrapped in a towel and dripping wet.

I licked my lips.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked, voice low, teasing.

“Toaster waffles,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

But his tone? That was pure sex.

I met his gaze head-on.

“I can eat those cold.”

Then I let the towel drop.

No hesitation.

No apology.

The air between us shifted instantly, thickening, crackling, charged.

His eyes dropped to my body, and the growl that tore out of him was pure animal.

“Arliss,” he said, voice wrecked. “You sure you want this? Because once I start, I’m not stopping until you’re dripping my cum, Mate.”

I stepped forward, bare and shameless, until there was nothing but a breath of space between us.

“Is that a threat? Because I thought I was already yours,” I whispered. “You just haven’t ruined me properly yet.”

And with that, the leash snapped.

He dropped the clothes, grabbed my waist, and lifted me like I weighed nothing.

My legs wrapped around him, wet skin sliding against hot muscle, and his mouth crashed into mine—hungry, wild, devouring.

He slammed me gently against the wall, pressing into me with his full weight, and I could feel exactly how much he wanted me.

Hard.

Huge.

Throbbing.

I moaned into his mouth as Kian dragged his tongue along mine, coaxing, teasing, owning every gasp he pulled from me.

His hands gripped my thighs, my ass, firm and commanding, like he couldn’t decide what to squeeze first, and he didn’t plan on choosing.

“You taste like wildflowers and sin,” he growled against my throat, voice rough and reverent.

Then he bit down gently on the same place he’d marked the night before, his teeth scraping that tender skin, and I swear to God, I almost shattered.

Right there.

A wicked grin curled his lips as he dropped to his knees, hands still wrapped around me like I was his personal altar.

With nothing but brute strength, he lifted me higher, settling my legs over his broad shoulders like I weighed nothing.

“W-what are you?—”

His eyes locked on mine, dark and molten.

“You know what, Mate,” he said, voice thick with hunger. “Now hold on tight while I take what’s mine.”

Then he buried his face between my legs.

I cried out.

Loud, raw, unfiltered.

Because holy fuck.

Kian wasn’t gentle.

He didn’t tease or ease me into it.

He devoured me.

His tongue flicked over my clit, then back down to my core, licking and sucking with single-minded focus like he was starving, and I was the only thing that could ever satisfy him.

And maybe I was.

He growled against my sex, the vibration making my thighs tremble.

He didn’t just eat me out, he stamped his claim on every inch of me.

My body.

My pleasure.

Mine.

I dug my fingers into his hair, holding on, hips jerking in time with his mouth.

I’d had sex before, some good, some passable , but never like this.

Never with a man who wanted to consume me.

Never with someone who made me feel like his entire existence depended on making me fall apart.

I heard it, the low, slick sound of him stroking himself, and it sent another wave of heat pulsing through me.

God, I wanted to watch.

I wanted to taste.

I wanted to drop to my knees and return every ounce of that hunger tenfold.

But right now?

I could barely breathe.

“Kian!” I moaned, my voice high, ragged.

I didn’t care how loud I was.

Didn’t care if the whole forest heard.

Let them.

Let them know.

He was relentless.

Licking. Sucking. Growling as he fucked me with his mouth like a man possessed.

My vision blurred. My thoughts shattered.

And suddenly, I understood every ridiculous, over-the-top scene I’d ever read in those Shifter romances.

Because this?

This wasn’t sex.

This was claiming.

This was worship.

And my body knew exactly who it belonged to.

My climax hit like a freight train.

Violent.

Perfect.

Infinite.

I screamed, shaking as the wave took me under, left me soaked and trembling.

Kian’s licks slowed, his lips still pressed to my skin, murmuring something low and reverent I couldn’t make out.

Then he stood.

And in one smooth, brutal motion, he lowered me down and impaled me on his perfect cock.

I gasped, legs locking tight around his waist, arms around his shoulders as he filled me so damn deep I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

Then he started to move.

Hard.

Slow.

Devastating.

Every thrust had purpose.

Every flex of his hips wrecked me a little more.

My breath caught on every stroke as he drove into me with total control and total chaos underneath.

“Kian—” I choked out, already teetering on the edge again.

He kissed me— filthy, wet, claiming —and then pounded into me with that final push that sent me right over.

I exploded.

Another orgasm ripped through me, fiercer than the first, my whole body clenching around him.

He groaned into my neck, nipping the skin between his teeth, driving harder, deeper, until I felt him pulse inside me with a growl that wasn’t human at all.

It was Bull.

It was mate.

It was forever.

And best of all, it was mine.