Grace Goodwin - His Virgin Mate

She would be safe there, protected, until tomorrow when I could find her. As long as she didn’t choose another.

My cock rose to attention at the challenge and I longed to join her in that bed, to run my fingers through the shining mass of her black hair and hold her head in place for my kiss as I introduced her to pleasure. She was mine. No other would touched her. None who wished to live. All I needed to do was convince her that I was her marked mate, her destiny. Perfect for her.

I stepped to the edge of the bed and lay down beside her. I imagined the scent of fresh spring flowers and warm honey drifted from her flesh. But this was just a dream. My mind would fill in the blanks, convince me that I touched her, held her, tasted her, but it would all be a lie, a trick of my imagination.

Everything physical would be an illusion.

But her words would be real. As would mine.

Lying on my side, I reached over and traced her full lower lip with my thumb. So fucking soft. I couldn’t wait to have that innocent mouth open around my cock.

I traced her curves, from shoulder to hip. Placing my hand on the curve of her waist, I squeezed gently to make her aware of my presence. This remarkable female was mine. My one true mate in the universe. Our minds touched, as only marked mates’ could, and I wanted to explore everything about her. What made her smile? What made her angry? I needed to know the taste of the sweet honey that flowed from her pussy, the flavor of her skin. What sounds would she make as I fucked her? Where did she like to be touched?

Her eyes fluttered, then opened wide, her gasp sweet as her heartbeat raced beneath her ribs.

“You came back.” Her sexy whisper made my cock ache and my hand seemed to have a mind of its own, tracing her curves from shoulder to hip and back. Over and over. I made sure to brush the side of her breast where I knew her mark must be hiding beneath the cream-colored nightgown. The shimmering fabric clung to every curve. It was beautiful, but I longed to rip it from her body. I needed to see her. Feel her. Claim her.

“Of course I returned. You’re mine.”

She shivered, but didn’t look away. “This is just a dream. You’re not real.”

Holding her gaze, I lowered my hand to her breast, cupped the soft weight. Gently squeezed the hardened pebble in a tender reprimand. “I am very real.”

Von

Reaching around her slight frame, I pulled her toward me until her hips met mine. Her gasp assured me she felt what I wanted her to feel, needed her to feel, my hard cock ready and eager to claim her. Her eyelids lowered slowly, her body melting into me as her eyes darkened with passion.

Gods, she was perfect. So innocent, yet so sensual. She had admitted to me last night, in our first dream meeting, that she was virgin, unclaimed. Waking her to her body’s passionate nature was going to be a true pleasure. I couldn’t wait to claim her in the traditional way, mouth, then ass, and finally, when she accepted my claim, I would fill her sweet pussy with my cum and fill her womb with my child. I wanted her heavy and full with my seed, her body ripe and sensitive. I had longed for, hoped for a mate and children, but never considered I’d be lucky enough to have this happen to me. For so many years I’d been focused on duty and honor, on survival. But now? Seeing her dark eyes and shining black hair, I wanted her. I wanted everything.

“Look at me.” I tested her then, needing to know her true nature. Would she welcome the commanding tone of my voice? Or defy me?

She gasped, biting her lip and her hips jerked against mine. But her eyes opened, and her dark gaze held mine. What I saw there nearly made me come. Desire. Trust. Need.

My little mate was as affected as I. Thank the gods.

I knew, if I could reach between her legs and feel her pussy, she’d be wet with welcome. She longed for my dominance, my need to command. Knowing she would surrender so sweetly made me fight back a growl.

“Tell me your name, little one.”

She shook her head, denying me this one simple thing. Leaning forward, I pulled her lips into my mouth, nibbling, kissing, then biting gently in reprimand. “I am Von. Tell me your name.”

This wasn’t real. Gods, I knew it wasn’t real, but once I tasted her I couldn’t stop. I kissed my way from her lips to her chin, her neck. Lower. She arched her back, her hips pressed to mine as she angled her head to the side in welcome, giving me better access.

“Von.” My name was a breathy sigh from her lips and my entire body reacted like she’d just stroked my cock.

I kissed her neck, licking and sucking and tasting. Working my way to her ear, I asked again, “What’s your name?”

Her silence both aroused and enticed me. I did not want a pliant, biddable mate. I wanted a woman with fire, a mate who would be fierce and protective of her children. One who would scratch and claw at the world and yet submit so sweetly in bed.

Rolling her beneath me, I took her mouth. I kissed her. Claimed her. Rubbing my cock in the vee of her legs, our clothing and her innocent mind kept me from filling her with my cock. I rubbed my hard length against her core, and her mind allowed the contact, not completely overwhelmed or shocked.

When I lowered my hand to her hip, reaching for the hem of her gown so I could sink my fingers into her hot, wet pussy, I met resistance, an invisible barrier I could not pass.

Inwardly, I groaned. I could not touch her. Not yet. I could not take her farther in a dream than she knew in reality. And no other man had ever touched her sweet center, ever tasted her wet heat or heard her cry out with pleasure. The thought turned me nearly feral, the protective instincts of the Hunter I was rising like the tides to swallow me whole.

This woman was mine. I had thought to act honorably, to give her a choice. But now, seeing her, tasting her, touching her mind, I knew I would move the heavens themselves to keep her. Nothing would stop me from seducing her, from earning her love.

Her skin was softer than a newborn babe’s. Her sighs music to my warrior’s heart. She wasn’t fighting me, she was simply innocent, her mind unable to fabricate lies of passion.

I kissed her again, until her body trembled with need, the air racing in and out of her lungs in uncontrolled bursts.

“Your name, mate?”

“I’m not your mate.”

“By the Divine, you are mine. My marked mate.” I grabbed her hands and held them above her head, pinning her as I lowered my mouth to the side of her right breast. Her mark would be there. I knew this for a fact as mine was in the same location on the side of my ribs. She was mine. I nuzzled the swell of her breast with my nose, my mouth, my chin, rubbing two days of stubble over her sensitive flesh before kissing and biting through her silken gown. “You have a birthmark, mate. Right here.”

She gasped and fought me, but I held her hands in place and she quickly melted, her head thrashing side to side on the pillow.

I kissed that mark, pulled her gown away with my teeth so I could kiss her bare breast. The moment my lips made contact with her naked skin, she moaned. A firestorm of need arced between us as I kissed and suckled her birthmark, the sacred and magical mark that linked us. That made her mine. Proof. I saw it. Felt it.

“I’m coming for you, mate. Wait for me. Do not choose another.”

I moved to suck her nipple into my mouth and her hips bucked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Officiate Treva said there would be eighty males to choose from tomorrow. She said I may choose any man I want.”