S. Yule - Lycan Redemption

“That’s it. You’re getting close. Come for me, Myka.”

It was as if he was tuned in to her body, as if he could read it with infinite ease, as if he knew exactly what she needed and when.

Three more thrusts of his hips and she did as he asked. She came so hard the scream bubbling in her throat lodged like a knot. She opened her mouth, but only a discernible squeak escaped as her orgasm swelled through her in ripples. He cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth to his, drinking in the cries she could get past the lump in her throat. His tongue stroked hers lazily as he exacted every last wave of pleasure from her.

Just before her body went limp, he broke the kiss, pressed his forehead against hers, and growled low as his cock swelled and his release pulsed inside her. Her inner muscles clenched around him tightly with each hot jet of his seed, and she groaned. He pumped his hips upward three more times, then stilled, and his hot breath fanned over her cheek.

“I have no words for how that felt. I don’t think there are words to describe how wonderful that was,” she whispered.

“Epic,” he breathed before chuckling deeply. He kissed her, then pulled her against him, his cock still inside her, hot and almost as hard as when they first started making love.

“How are you still . . . ?” She wiggled on his lap to let him know what she meant.

“It’s a lycan thing.” He reached around her and started the truck.

She started to get off him, but he wrapped one arm around her and held her securely against him. She smiled and laid her head over his heart, enjoying the strong, steady rhythm beneath her ear.

“This can’t be safe at all.” She gave a halfhearted laugh because she had no intention of moving.

“Sometimes safety is overrated,” he said. “Besides, I will never let anything hurt you again.”

He drove slowly the rest of the way back to her house. Every bump, every rut, every rock in the road bounced her on his lap. By the time they made it home, he was so hard inside her, she thought she’d go crazy with wanting him again. How could she want him this badly after she’d just had him minutes earlier? She smiled as he put the truck in park, turned the engine off, and flexed his hips upward.

If she was sure of only three things about this man, they would be that she loved him, he loved her, and whatever this need was between them would never die.

“It’s time to get you out of this dress. And while I hate to leave you for even a moment, I don’t think it will end well for either one of us if I try to carry you to the house with my pants around my knees.”

She laughed and eased off his lap and onto the seat. He opened his door, slid out, pulled his jeans up over his hips without buttoning them, then reached for her. She sighed when he lifted her and carried her toward the house.

“I can walk, you know?” But she really didn’t want to.

“Yeah, but I like to carry you. Isn’t it tradition for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not one who likes to break tradition, angel.”

“Since I love being snuggled up against your chest, I’ll agree with you this time.”

“I love you pressed against anything of mine.” He kissed her cheek.

He unlocked the door, finagled them both through it with admirable ease, then toed it shut before carrying her down the hall to her room. She smiled. Their room. He let her slide slowly down the front of his body until her feet touched the floor. His warmth soaked into her skin, and his hard muscles pressed into her softer curves.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, fast.” He nodded toward the bed.

“About what?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m big, and a queen-sized bed isn’t going to work, especially for all the things I have in mind to do to you on it.”

She grinned up at him. “You might be right, but I think we can make do for now. Can’t we?”

“Angel, I can make do with anything if it’s between not making do and having you. I’m creative.”

“And talented.” She sucked in a breath when his hazel eyes began to glow.

“I would say the same of you.”

He bent and placed his warm lips against her mouth. She leaned into him, and when she sighed, he slipped his tongue inside. His taste flooded her senses, and she swayed. He lifted his head, cupped her cheek, and stroked gently along her jawline before easing her around. His fingers went to work on the buttons at the back of her dress. He was surprisingly adept at getting the tiny pearls unhooked. She would have thought he’d fumble with his big fingers, but he once again proved how efficient he was.

“Is there anything you aren’t good at?” she asked.

He turned her to face him again, and she clutched the now-gaping dress to her breasts. He traced one finger down the column of her neck, then along her collarbone. He bent down and nibbled along the same path his finger had just taken, and the familiar pressure began to build inside her yet again.

“Chess,” he murmured against her skin.

“Huh?”

“I’m not good at chess.”

She pushed him away and gave him her sternest look, trying hard not to smirk. “Oh no. You should have told me that before we got married. I’m not sure I can be with a man who can’t play chess.”

She took two steps back, and he slowly stalked her. Her heart raced at the fierce look on his face. He was playing with her. She could see the way his lips slightly turned up at one side, but she nearly forgot all about the joke when he put his predator face on. She loved being his prey. He was dominant, and she liked it that way because she knew he’d be more than willing to allow her to take the lead whenever she wanted.

He’d never force her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. Never demean her. No matter how he took her, she felt loved and cherished. He caught her when the backs of her legs hit the bed, and she gasped when he spread her arms wide and the dress dropped to the floor around her feet in a soft heap. She blushed knowing that the lacy white bra, garters, garter belts, and silk hose were revealed—minus the panties that were probably somewhere on the floor of the truck. He growled low in his throat, and her toes almost curled in pleasure. He always made her feel beautiful when he looked at her with heat burning in those glorious glowing eyes.

“I’ll learn,” he said quietly.

“Learn what?” She frowned.

“How to play chess.”

His eyes slowly roamed her from head to toe, then back before resting on her face. Her skin tingled, and the pressure built, making her inner muscles clench in anticipation of having him inside her again. She looked down and licked her lips. He was still hard, the open buttons of his jeans barely containing his thick cock, which was half exposed. He growled again, and she looked up at him.

“You’re testing my patience and control looking at me like that.” He raised one dark brow. “And looking like that.” He gestured to her lingerie before tracing one finger along the top edge of her lacy bra, over the swell of one exposed breast.

“I like testing your patience.” She smiled up at him. “I think I’d like to taste—um, test—it some more.”

She tugged and pushed at him until they’d switched positions, and his back was to the bed now. The bottom few buttons were still undone on his shirt from earlier, and she hurriedly unbuttoned the rest—less elegantly as he’d managed the buttons on her dress. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, and she pushed his jeans down off his hips.

The swollen head of his cock glistened with pre-come, and she licked her lips again, the action rewarded with another growl. She shoved at him, and he sat on the edge of the mattress. She dropped to her knees and removed his shoes and socks to allow the jeans to slide off to the floor. She placed a kiss on one knee, then nibbled her way along the inside of his hard thigh.