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I forget to be strategic about anything when her legs arch against my shoulders and her fingers yank my hair as her soft, slippery pussy humps my mouth. I growl and burrow forward, only to meet her hips as they bounce off the bed to fuck my tongue with her dripping slit.

I love it, but I need to do more. Serve my mate better.

I flip Fia over fast and without warning (oops), making her scream as I push her hips up high, her face down flat.

I kneel behind her with my face buried in her from behind, able to steal glances of her clawing at the sheet and burying her face in the comforter to smother her increasingly loud moans.

“Please, Bryce... Please,” she begs.

Fia, my Fia, is begging for me.

“Soon, my beautiful gift,” I say after I swipe my tongue between her folds again.

“I want your cock. I can take it,” she argues, voice almost a whine.

“Not yet!” I say, thwacking her sensitive nub with the flat of my tongue, probably harder than I should. To my surprise, my sweet, soft little mate moans and arches back.

“Again! Hard like that,” she pleads.

I replace my tongue with my hand, hard palm against her bead, rubbing in circles as I watch her walls spasm. “Come for me,” I beg. “Come while I watch your pretty pussy practice for my big cock.”

The mixture of words and the hard circles on her clit break the last dam, and her warm juice floods my palm, so wet that I see drops fly as I rub her hard, hoping to push her to the brink of a second orgasm.

Fia flops forward, shaking and sighing.

Was I too hard? You got carried away! “Fia? I’m sorry. Was that too hard?” I whisper, curling up beside her, cupping her face in my hand.

“Just hard enough,” she reassures, flushed, sweating face pressing close to mine.

She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in for a kiss, her tongue swirling with mine.

I hear her moan, and her delicious scent gets heavier.

My love likes tasting herself on my tongue.

My love is a little bit wild and savage—just like me.

“Do you have lube?” she whispers, snuggling to my chest.

I wince. “No. I... I never planned on needing it,” I confess.

“I always believed I would never find a mate.” I nuzzle the top of her head, kissing her dark curls, “Probably because I knew I’d already lost my heart to Miss Valentine.

” It’s a miracle she’s in my arms. I hope she knows I’m serious about not letting her go. ..

Fia hums softly under her breath and then begins to worm her way down my body, hands massaging.

I can’t get over the fact that she seems as enthralled with my giant, fur-covered form as I am with her small, nearly hairless one.

The silky skin of her bare thigh rubs pointedly against my erection—which is a mistake, seeing as the slightest pressure might make me explode.

Her hand follows the path, slowly wrapping around me, even though there’s a fraction of space left that prevents her fingers from touching.

“So big. And so slippery. I think this might work instead of lube. Even if it doesn’t, I’m willing to take a chance.” Fia lifts her fingers high, spreading them apart and showing strings of my thick, viscous arousal spiderwebbing between them.

I ROLL TO MY HANDS and knees for the second time, pussy still throbbing and tingling from the double whammy of an orgasm Bryce already delivered, body tense and excited as I feel him kneeling behind me. Him being on top is something we’re going to have to work up to.

When I spread my legs wider, notching myself backwards until I can feel his cock resting between my cheeks, I’m startled at the amount of wetness that suddenly coats me.

When Bryce strokes my pouting lips with his hand, I hear an audible plop of liquid into his palm.

“Was that you or me?” I ask, my inhibitions on hiatus with this lover.

“You—but only because my fur is absorbing the river you cause to flow from me,” he chuckles.

I sigh and jiggle my cheeks against him, listening to his growling moan of longing with temptress satisfaction. “I was thinking about you all day. I was planning to get my biggest toy and play with myself while wishing it was you.”

“How big are these toys?” Bryce asks, leaning down to kiss a trail across my spine.

“Not as big as you, that’s for damn sure—but one of them is a big hefty. I ordered the wrong size—or maybe I didn’t. Maybe I ordered the perfect size to work up to you,” I chuckle.

As we move together, his cock pressing against my folds without going in, just rocking together to spread our soaking wetness around, my lust-drenched brain starts to think about the path that brought us here.

It’s like an ultra-sped-up video clip that plays in my head, but it makes me wonder—is he really my mate?

Not just a lover, but a lifelong partner like his culture makes him believe?

He plays hockey. I love sports photography.

He loves sports. He had the old magazines and calendar I was in.

Through that, he followed my career and started to support it.

I treasured the words of the stranger who would always praise me, even when the people in my “real life” dismissed my dreams.

My best friend asking me to cover this random event because of her sick kids.

Sam Grendel joining the team only recently, and Bryce being next in line.

The confrontation, the knock at my door, the wrong toy...

He finally pushes into me, and I gasp and dig my fingers into the mattress at the stretch, a painful push that wedges him tight in my opening and makes tears spring to my eyes as I consider asking him to retreat.

Before I can, it’s like there is a chemical reaction between my arousal and his, relaxing my muscles and sending him sliding forward, filling me so hard and deep that my whole body shudders and settles.

Stuffed. Stretched. Spread to my limits. I let out a guttural noise of all the air rushing out of me.

The deep, “Can this be fate?” thoughts of a second ago vanish.

I don’t care if it’s fate or not, I’m keeping this cock and the man attached. “Oh, wow.” I finally can make an intelligible sound.

“Wow,” Bryce echoes in a hazy voice. “I... I didn’t think it would happen fast like that.”

I move experimentally, but I can’t move much.

I run a hand between my thighs, rubbing my clit to help combat the burning sensation of being stretched to the breaking point, only to find that I’m literally bulging, belly pushed out.

“I didn’t expect that, either,” I say in a strained voice. “Move slow.”

“I will. I don’t have to move at all.” Bryce puts one palm on each of my cheeks and parts them. “I could come just from looking at you spread around me. Feeling your walls ripple against me.”

I twitch, muscles trying to relax against this sudden intruder. Bryce groans, and a new flood of wetness soaks me. When he moans, the deep bass rumble of his voice shoots through me, and now we’re connected. He vibrates inside of me, and my muscles start to go soft.

“You might be able to, but I can’t. I need friction,” I say, gently rocking forward, seeing what it feels like. It doesn't hurt this time, but the deep, Oh-My-God-I-May-Never-Walk-Again stretch is still there.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my love. My mate. My treasure. I was caught up for a moment in how good you feel.” Bryce massages my lower back with one hand and snakes the other one around my hip. With his long arms, he easily reaches my pussy and rubs it too.

I’m in the center of a massage sandwich with a delicious, thick filling.

“I would never neglect my mate,” he whispers, beginning to rub more purposefully.

Tingles of pleasure work with the “hurts so good” stretch, and I feel us start to slip and slide together.

I cautiously let myself fall forward, head on a pillow, spine arching high with his huge cock parting me.

My hips rock and his rush to meet me, short, shallow thrusts at first, getting longer and harder as we build up our tempo.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers.

I look back over my shoulder to see the enraptured expression on his rugged face before pleasure forces my eyes closed. “More,” I beg, sure that’s a word I shouldn’t be using.

“You won’t take more yet,” Bryce cautions.

“Harder. Faster. Not deeper. Not yet.” I know bodies can stretch, but there’s no way I can have ten or twelve inches stuffed inside me on the first try. “I like a challenge,” I say.

He gets it. “Don’t worry. I’ve never missed a practice, never missed a game,” he chuckles. “We’ll go as far as you want. Just being with you is all I need.”

“So sweet,” I purr, marveling that this massive monster can be pounding me steadily while still romancing me.

He’s kind of perfect.

Perfect for me.

“Harder,” I remind him, hips working back insistently.

With a grunt that sends those delicious vibrations through me, he complies.

Slap, brush, slap, brush. The room is silent except for my thighs on his fur and the obscenely wet, splashing sounds that turn to a steady squelch as he fucks me harder.

In moments, we’re both lost. His hands fasten to my waist, and his grunts are a deep, growling staccato, little bursts of spine-tingling noise on every thrust.

I’m not even aware of the sounds I’m making at first until I realize that the constant moan that rides up and down the octave like a singer warming up is me, riding cycles of pleasure.

The cycles get shorter and harder, more pointed.

Every space inside of me is filled. Every spot I’ve ever wanted a lover to find is touched and rubbed by default by the huge, heavy cock inside of me.

“Soon?” Bryce asks in a strangled voice.

I think he’d keep pounding me until he passed out. Or until I did. The pressure from inside radiates down to my clit. His hand connects with mine over the swollen bulge of my lower abdomen, circling on my clit as he slams in deep, making my eyes fly open as I let out a screech.

“Have you ever squirted?” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid to ask.