Page 9 of Scarlett’s Wicked Wolf (Filthy Fairy-tales #1)

Reid

I surface to heat and the soft drag of a tongue.

For a second, I don’t understand the ache, the pleasure blooming low and hot, the wet warmth encasing the head of my cock. Then my eyes snap open to the dim glow of the banked fire and Scarlett between my thighs, hair a spill of red gold over my skin, fingers braced at my hips.

“Scarlett…” My voice is gravelly. The bond hums, answering her touch. I reach for her hair and then stop, palm hovering above her crown as she teases me with her tongue. “Fuck… are you sure?”

She looks up, pupils blown wide, lips slick. She’s blushing, but her emerald gaze holds no uncertainty, only a steadiness that goes straight through me. “I’m very sure,” she whispers, breath warm on me. “I want you, Reid. Let me.”

I nod, helpless and wrecked and honored all at once. She’s choosing me, not because of fate or the fever, but because she wants me.

I tuck a curl behind her ear. “Then take what you want.”

She does. Tentative at first, a slow stroke of her tongue that makes my spine bow, then bolder as she learns me, lips parting, mouth sealing around me in a tight, careful glide.

I groan, head thudding back into the pillow.

Her hand wraps around the base of my cock, synchronizing with the shallow pull of her mouth.

Every time she looks at me, every little satisfied hum she makes when she figures out what I like, I fall another mile.

“Gods, that feels good,” I manage, finally sinking my fingers into her hair—not to guide, just to touch. “That’s perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

She hums again, and the vibration rolls through me, fraying my control. I force myself to breathe, to be present, to memorize the soft give of her tongue, the way her cheeks hollow, the little furrow of concentration between her brows that makes my chest ache with something fiercer than lust.

“Slow,” I say, and she slows, following my instructions without hesitation. “There you go. Breathe through your nose. That’s it.”

Her confidence blooms under my praise; I can feel it in the way she relaxes her throat for another inch, in the way her free hand slides up my abdomen like she’s mapping me. I’m dangerously close, and as much as I want to let her take me apart, I want more.

I touch her jaw gently. “Scarlett. If you keep going, I’m going to come.”

She releases me with a wet sound that nearly undoes my resolve. Her lips are kiss-bruised and proud. “I want all of you,” she says huskily, like she’s been screaming my name. “I want you inside me.”

Everything in me goes very still.

“You’re sure?” I ask again, because this matters more than the air in my lungs. “You’re sure, and you’re not dizzy, and you’re not saying yes because of the bond.”

“I’m sure,” she says, and I feel it—the love and sunlight in the center of her. “I’m saying yes because it’s you.”

My restraint snaps, not into roughness, but into motion.

I draw her up my body, kiss her slow and deep until she sighs into my mouth.

I taste the faint sweetness of me on her tongue and groan, rolling us until she’s on her back and I’m braced over her.

The blanket slides away; her skin is warm and soft under my palms, gooseflesh chasing my touch.

“Tell me what you like. What you don’t like,” I say, kissing the hollow of her throat, the rise of her breast, the tight pebble of her nipple that draws another choked sound from my brave, beautiful she-wolf. “You say stop, I stop.”

“I know,” she breathes, arching. “I trust you.”

Her confession lodges in my throat like a benediction.

I take my time. I want to take my time. My mouth maps the soft, secret places I didn’t honor with my tongue earlier, learning what makes her knees fall open, what makes her gasp, what makes her voice break on my name.

When I slide my hand between her thighs, she’s already wet and hot, her body eager and pulsing.

“Look at you,” I murmur, circling my thumb lightly over her clit. She shivers, opens more. “So ready for me.”

Her breath stutters. “Please.”

I ease a finger into her slowly, carefully, watching her face. She’s tight, her body clenching around me like a fist. I wait, pressing kisses to her jaw, her cheek, her mouth, until the tension melts and she lets out a shaky, relieved breath.

“Good girl,” I praise.

Her lashes flutter as I add a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch her.

Her hips rock helplessly. I curl my fingers and find the spot that makes her cry out, my thumb stroking steady circles on her clit until the crest builds and breaks through her in shivering waves.

She clutches at my shoulders, mouth open against my neck, coming apart with complete, unguarded trust.

I breathe her in, give her every second of it, keep moving through the aftershocks until she sags into the pillows, loose-limbed and glowing. When I slip my fingers free, she’s still pulsing, her slick heat clinging to my skin. I almost spill just from the sight of her.

“Ready?” I ask when she opens her eyes again.

She nods, cheeks flushed, hair wild. “Yes.”

I notch the head of my cock at her entrance, the heat of her a stunning shock even after my hand, my mouth, my patience. I push in a breath, then another, only the barest inch.

Her eyebrows pull together. I still.

“Breathe with me,” I say softly, eyes on hers. “In for four.”

She huffs out a laugh despite the tension pulling her muscles taut. “Okay, coach.”

I smile, holding her gaze as I move another fraction, stretching her around me, feeling the resistance that tells me this is her first time. I’m her first lover.

My wolf howls inside me. First and last. Ours.

“Out for six,” I murmur, clinging to my control.

She exhales, her body opening and reaching for me. I keep it slow—impossibly, teeth-grittingly slow—until her hands slide to my hips and she whispers, “More. Please, Reid.”

I press deeper, her sheath tight and perfect. A brief, sharp catch, a small whimper as her nails bite into my back, and then I’m fully seated, surrounded by her, claimed and claiming. We both go still, breathing like we’ve run a mile.

“Okay?” I manage.

She nods, eyes wet, smiling through it. “Okay. Better than okay.”

Relief and awe crash through me so hard I have to close my eyes for a second.

I kiss her gently as I move, shallow at first, letting her body learn mine and mine learn hers.

The bond hums louder, not a command or a compulsion, but us, a shared frequency.

She lifts her hips to meet me, finding a tentative rhythm, and her moan of pleasure as we sync is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

“You feel so good,” I groan, moving a little faster, sinking a little deeper. She gasps, the desire chasing the hurt from her features. “That’s it. Take me. You’re doing so well.”

Her hands frame my face like she’s memorizing me. “I love how you talk to me. It makes me feel wanted. Safe.”

I push deeper, slowly and thoroughly, and her eyes roll. “You are safe,” I promise. “Always.”

The fire pops. The cabin breathes with us.

I angle my hips and find the place inside her that lights her up.

She keens, lashes fluttering, thighs tightening around my waist. I keep that angle, steady and sure, my thumb finding her again and circling until she’s trembling, until she’s whispering please please please into my mouth.

“Let go for me,” I tell her roughly. “Come with me, little wolf.”

She does. Her body clenches around me in a hot, rippling squeeze that drags me straight over the edge with her.

I thrust once more and bury myself deep, spilling into her with a hoarse groan I couldn’t hold back if I tried.

It’s not simply release; it’s relief, home, a heated vow.

I hold her through it, mouth on her temple, her cheek, her lips, as if kisses could stitch the moment into our bones.

When the trembling ebbs, I ease us onto our sides without leaving her, keeping our bodies fitted, smoothing her hair back from her damp forehead. She looks at me, sated and soft and a little stunned.

“You okay?” I ask, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone.

She smiles, slow and hazy. “More than okay.” Her palm settles over my heart, like she’s checking it’s still there. “It was… wow.”

I huff a laugh and kiss her palm. “You’re wow.”

Silence stretches, warm and easy as our breathing evens.

Scarlett tilts her head. “Are we knitting now?”

I blink. “What?”

Color floods her cheeks. “I read this shifter book once and the wolf guy had this, uh, thing on his”—she gestures vaguely between us where we’re still joined—“and I thought maybe this is the knitting part?”

The laugh punches out of me, helpless and fond. This woman is brave, resilient, and achingly innocent. “Knotting,” I correct, brushing my nose against hers. “With an ‘O’. We’re not making a scarf.”

She groans and covers her face. “Oh, my Gods. How embarrassing.”

“Lucky for you, I’m terrible at purling,” I murmur, grinning, feeling lighter than I have in years.

She peeks at me through her fingers. “So… knotting is real?”

I smooth the hair from her temple. “In our shifted forms… I don’t know. I’ve never—” I swallow. “I’ve never had anyone to try with. Maybe it’s different for me. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn’t.” I search her eyes, suddenly shy for a man with my past. “Maybe we'll find out someday. Together.”

We both know I’m talking about more than anatomy. It’s me asking if she’ll stay.

Her hand slides to my jaw, thumb warm against my cheek. “I think I’d like that.”

The bond hums, low and certain. I exhale like I’ve been underwater. “Good,” I whisper, pulling her closer, keeping myself nestled inside her because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. “I like this part with you, even when there’s no knitting involved.”

She laughs, soft and drowsy, and tucks her face into my throat. “Me too. Especially with you. Thank you for… all of it. For going slow. For making it feel like a choice, not a destiny.”

Emotion hits me so hard that my throat goes tight. “It is a choice. Every time. However you want it. Whenever you want it. If you want to stop, to sleep, to talk… I’m here.”

She nuzzles closer, hooking her leg over my hip, keeping me inside her like she doesn’t want to lose the connection. “I want this,” she says, voice drifting toward drowsiness. “I want you.”

Relief courses through me as I press a kiss to her hairline. “You have me.”

Outside, the forest hushes. Inside, the fire settles into a soft, shifting mass of coals. And I hold my mate like I’ve been waiting my whole life to learn the shape of this peace.