Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Isaiah released her hair, snapped open the fly of her jeans, and dragged both them and her panties down to her knees. Then suddenly one of her legs were free, he kicked both apart.
And plunged two fingers inside her.
Oh, fuck.
Every pump of his fingers was hard but shallow, delicious but teasing. Having no way to find purchase with her feet, since the tips of her toes barely brushed the tiled floor, she held tight to the edges of the island.
Isaiah roughly shoved the back of her sweater all the way up to her nape. His fingers whispered over patches of her flesh, and she knew he was tracing the bites, bruises, and scratches there. Every touch was gentle but so damn entitled. Her cat loved it.
He drove the fingers inside her deeper with a growl. “Your skin is painted with my marks. My own personal masterpiece.”
Her feline melted under the force of his dominance, so drawn by it she edged forward. Quinley felt the brush of fur just beneath her skin, smelt the feral edge in her scent signaling her animal’s closeness.
A long, drawn-out snarl came from Isaiah. Both his hands disappeared. A zipper lowered. Something hard, hot, and long slapped her ass.
He glided the head of his cock between her wet folds. “All day I’ve been thinking about this pussy. Filling it. Using it. Feeling it drench my dick when you come.”
Isaiah clamped a hand on her hip and ruthlessly slammed his hips forward, forcing her to accept every inch of his cock. Needing her to take it. Her tight pussy spasmed around him and, fuck, he could come right then.
But he didn’t.
He planted his free hand on her nape to hold her in place. “This is gonna be fast.” He rode her hard, his pace almost rabid.
He hadn’t lied. Throughout the day, his thoughts had so often drifted to fucking her that they’d bordered on obsessive. His instincts—again powered by the absence of the bond—had driven him to hunt her, bring her back to their den, take her over and over and over.
He’d texted her several times, unable to resist; needing that connection; trying to let the exchange of messages be enough. The chaos in his mind and body had eased off once he’d picked her up from the lot, his system satisfied now that she was back in his possession.
Still, he now had her bent over the island as he plowed into her. Why? Because he needed it. Not because they lacked a bond, not because primitive instincts were fucking with him. But because he’d come to crave this—how she yielded to him, how her pussy felt around his cock, how he could finally be.
He upped his pace, brutally pounding into her, urged on by her soft, trembly moans. “You needed this, didn’t you?” he gritted out. “I did. Needed to shoot my come where it belongs.”
She whimpered, her inner walls heating and tightening.
Sensing she was close, he squeezed her hip, letting her feel the prick of his claws. “Go on, you can come. Do it now.”
She did. Her head snapped up, a rough scream grated her throat, and her pussy all but strangled him.
A growl escaped through his gritted teeth. “Good. Fucking. Girl.” All finesse, control, and rhythm disappeared as he fucked her harder, pursuing his own release.
Then he found it.
The thrashing current whipped through his body and shot up his shaft as he exploded, filling her with all he had.
When his release finally subsided, he pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder. “You good?”
Panting, she made a committal sound. “Feel free to do that again any time you want.”
He smiled. “That’s the plan.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jerking away from the woman sniffing her, Quinley frowned. “What are you doing?”
“You smell like Isaiah, but it’s not that his scent is embedded in your skin like with imprinting,” said Raya. “It’s more like he rubbed himself over every inch of you before you left the house.”
Quinley returned to scrubbing the bath of her grooming station, which she’d just used to bathe a wild-dog shifter. “I didn’t get a shower this morning, since I had one last night. He likes me to wear one of his tees for bed, so …” And yes, there’d been some rubbing.
It had been subtle—his cheek grazing hers, a nuzzle to her neck, a long stroke of her hair. But it had been obvious that he was scent-marking her.
She hadn’t minded. Her cat liked it a lot. In fact, the animal had wanted to return the favor. But Quinley hadn’t had enough time to shift and let her cat spend time with him.
Raya leaned back against the wall. “You all done with your Christmas shopping yet?”
“Pretty much.” Quinley gave her the side-eye. “Are you still sulking that I went without you last weekend?”
“Well, it wasn’t fair.”