Page 18 of Taken By The Wolves (Blackwood Forest #2)

NIXON

Scarlet is moving between my brothers, worshipping at their feet the way a mate would.

Reed is flushed and spent, slumped into the couch, chest heaving and eyes wide.

He holds her hand gently, maintaining contact even as she touches his brother.

Finn is quiet and taut beside him, chest rising in slow, steady hums as she bobs her head in his lap, taking his cock deep into her throat.

And I’m behind her, my gut tightening with every clench of her thighs. She’s so wet that the lace is clinging to the cleft of her pussy, outlining what I’ve touched but not seen, what I’ve tasted from my fingers but not directly.

She’s the driving force behind this, not my plan or my schedule. But that’s what makes it impossible to resist.

Her scent curls into my senses like incense, and I can’t think of anything but the sweet taste of her. My cock throbs, heavy and impatient, a lesson in restraint I’ve practiced all my life because I know how easily this can end in premature ravishment and loss, something none of us wants.

My wolf howls at me to throw caution to the wind, but my human self holds the reins tightly because she hasn’t invited me yet.

She hasn’t locked her consent in place with her eyes or voice.

But still, she chose this path the moment she went from accepting pleasure to giving.

Finn would have walked away like I did last night, to handle his business in the quiet of his room, but she wanted more.

It’s a silent dance: her lips wrapped around Finn, her lashes half-closed, and my own gaze riveted to the small space between her thighs, the part of her that belongs to me and my brothers but is still a threshold she bars or allows entry at her will.

She turns her head to look over her shoulder, and her eyes meet mine, wide, lust-soaked, feral even, and my hand moves of its own volition. I bring my fingertips up to brush her center, and I groan at the gentle give, the dampness, and the tremor of her muscles under my palm.

Her look says it all. You can, if you want. Try to see what I say.

My cock presses into my palm inside the confines of my jeans.

It would take nothing to free myself and slip inside her, to mark her with my scent.

I’d write myself so deep, I’d leave no doubt as to where this woman belongs and to whom.

But if I do it now, can I hold back my wolf instinct, or will the scent of her nape call to my fangs?

Will I go all the way and claim her, and what then?

It’s too soon.

She doesn’t know what we are. She doesn’t know what she is to us, and what it means to be claimed.

The claim can be terrifying, the pain overwhelming if the pleasure is resisted.

I won’t lose her. Not for a moment of need that could extinguish more than it fulfills.

So my hand stills. I lean into the quiet of the moment and the tension that hums too loudly.

She shifts her hips back, spreading her thighs wider, granting more of herself to me without a word, and the walls inside me crack.

I trace her slick skin with a single fingertip, slow and coaxing, and she leans back into the touch. She gasps.

She can say no. I’d let her pull back in a heartbeat if she did.

But instead, she moans. I lean forward and whisper her name against her shoulder, her sweet nape already calling to me.

My fangs bud, but it’s my tongue I allow to explore.

She exudes warmth and invitation, her scent as sweet as summer blooms.

I taste her desire on her skin. It rises from her like steam in the cold.

My mouth brushes the slope of her shoulder, as my hands splay along her hips.

Her panties slide the rest of the way over her thighs and fall to the floor in a whisper.

I’m curved over her the way it would be, the way it should be, so close to taking what my wolf visceral aches for, my hands tremble as they grip the sofa on either side of her.

I lick her sweet skin, and my fangs press deeper into the flesh of my cheeks, but I can’t let them out.

I’m drugged, but still I hold onto the last vestiges of my self-control.

This desire I have for the right kind of love bond has been with me for so long, I can’t toss it aside at the first temptation.

I have to draw back.

But I can’t resist looking at the space between her legs, and when I find it slick and open, glistening in the low light, I am overcome with awe. The gravity of knowing that this is what we’ve waited for, she is what we’ve waited for, weighing heavily.

My fingers fumble with buttons, and my hand wraps around my length, already hard and beaded with precum.

I stroke once, twice, dragging the head of my cock through the heat of her, testing her wetness, testing myself, lost in desire and the need to let go, relishing marking her with my scent in this small way.

Her thighs tremble.

Her lips part.

Her hips nudge back enough to tell me yes.

Scarlet arches her back, and in that moment, I lose every wall I thought I could hold.

I press into her slowly, not because I’m unsure but because I have to relish every second of her taking me in: the tightness, the pull, the warmth.

She’s home.

Being inside her is everything I imagined and everything I feared and everything I never dared believe I’d find. She gasps, tilting her hips, her hands braced against the edge of the couch, and I go deeper, groaning low against her skin as I fill her, stretching her wide around me.

The world goes quiet.

My thoughts are obliterated beneath the weight of this moment, the rightness of her, and the deep satisfaction I derive from the tight squeeze of her around me.

This beautiful body was made for our pleasure, but also to bear our children.

One day, after we’ve claimed her, we’ll fill her with our seed and watch her bloom with the future of our family.

The rhythm of her breath and the wild beat of my heart as I move inside her punctuate each thrust. I grip her hips and she pushes back into me, greedy and glorious, and I match her, every stroke deliberate.

I don’t pound into her. There’s no rush.

I give her what I know she needs, and I take from her the bliss of our deepening connection.

Her moans mix with the soft encouragement of my brothers, who remain silent no longer.

Reed curses. Finn groans long and deep as he comes into her mouth, gripping her head to him for as long as it takes him to spill every drop.

And then she’s looking at me over her shoulder, eyes wide, lids half-lowered, her pretty pink lips parted as she groans with pleasure.

Even as her body writhes and her back bows and her nails dig into the couch, it’s me she looks for, and I know this isn’t only lust for her.

It’s everything we’ve been promised and so much more.

She has to feel it, too.

She cries out, hips jerking beneath mine as my hand slides between her thighs. Two fingers, slick and sure, pressing where she needs them. She bucks, crying out, as I drive deeper, my hips rocking into her with a pace that’s almost too measured because if I let go now, I won’t stop.

Her body tightens around me, muscles fluttering as she spirals, and her voice breaks like glass. Her orgasm crests fast, wild and unrestrained, pulsing against my cock in waves so fierce I almost lose control.

My knot flares and swells, but I resist the biting urge to shove it into her and fuse us together.

I growl, deep, low, and broken, and thrust harder, once, to feel her almost clasp around the bulb at the root of my cock that she’ll only take when she’s been claimed.

I’m shaking.

My hands find hers, fingers laced as I pin them to the couch, my chest curved over her trembling spine.

How did I live without this? How did I go each day without her scent to breathe, and her laughter to hear, and her body to taste, and her pussy to fuck? How did we wait so long?

“Oh. Fuck. Yeah,” I growl, beast rising. “Fucking take it like a good. Fucking. Girl.”

Scarlet whimpers and her pussy clamps rhythmically.

And then instinct hits.

Fangs.

They drop without warning. My mouth finds the nape of her neck, her soft, exposed skin, the sacred place where the claim is made.

I pant into it, trembling. She doesn’t flinch away but moans and leans into me like she wants it.

More than that. Like she craves to be marked with every atom of her being.

My wolf is frenzied.

I could do it. Right now. Bite. Knot. Fill her with pups and fate and forever. She’d be mine. Ours. No doubt. No distance.

Across the room, Reed sits forward. His face open and awestruck, it tightens into something sharper.

He knows.

I meet his eyes, teeth grazing her skin, and he shakes his head.

Not like this.

I breathe harder, my jaw aching. My whole body’s trembling with the strain of holding back what my wolf has wanted from the moment I scented her and our eyes met.

But Reed’s right.

We said there could be another way.

I said there could be another way.

My fangs retract slowly, aching with the loss, and instead of biting, I press a kiss to the spot I almost scarred. A kiss full of promise, loaded with everything I will give her when she begs me for it.

And then I come.

Pleasure swells through me, and I jerk inside her with a cry I can’t swallow. My forehead drops to her shoulder again as my body convulses. My cock pulses as I jerk back, releasing over the rug and the panties still loose around her knees, clutching my knot in case she turns her head.

Curved over her sweet, spent body, I’m huge and dangerous, but I have reins on my feral side that most other wolves would never think to cultivate.

“I’ll wait,” I mouth against her skin. “Until you want it.”

Because I could claim her now.

I could make her ours forever.

But what I really want is for her to beg for us.