Page 33 of Scarlett's Wicked Wolf

I give her more.

I set a rhythm I can hold, and then I break it, rolling my hips until I’m hitting exactly where my fingers were, until she’s clutching me like she’ll fall through the earth if I stop. I free one hand to slide between us, finding her clit with my thumb and rubbing tight circles that make her eyes go heavy and bright at once.

“Eyes,” I order softly when they flutter closed. “On me.”

She does. The bond hums hot and honest between us. She starts to climb again. I feel it in the flex of her inner muscles around me and the way her breath becomes high and thin.

“Tell me you’re close,” I beg, voice splintering. “Need you to come with me.”

She doesn’t answer. She can’t because the tremors take her, and she seizes with another orgasm. I follow, groaning into her mouth, my cock locked deep inside her as my release shudders through me. We stay there, fused and shaking, breathing each other, loving each other.

I eventually ease to my side, keeping her pulled into my chest, still buried inside her, my hand smoothing up and down her spine.

“You run,” I murmur into her hair, drowsy and awed, “and I’ll follow. Every time.”

Scarlett smiles against my throat, sated and humming. “Then chase me again tomorrow.”

I laugh, low and wicked. “At dawn.”

“Dusk,” she counters, nipping my mouth.

I grin. “Both, my little wolf. Both.”

I kiss her until the forest forgets we were ever anything but human, until the night goes soft around us, and the only wild thing left is the way she says my name.