I’m circling my hips, whining aloud, sounding almost like it hurts. But it doesn’t. This is the opposite of pain.
He grabs my hair into a fist and tugs, so my throat is more exposed while his mouth closes over his teeth marks.
I plead, “Mason…”
What am I pleading for?
“Yeah, ride that, baby. You’re choking my cock and I love it. I fucking love it.”
I love it too. God, I’m gonna miss this.
As this thought occurs to me, I dig my nails into his skin, whimpering both in pleasure and sadness. As I do, his head jerks back and he shakes his head.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere. Neither am I. You’re mine, woman, and I’m gonna make you realize that this is where you’re meant to be. This house, my pack, all of it is meant for you. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I’m not giving up and goin’ to that concrete jungle with you. I’m giving this to you.”
I wish. I wish it was mine for the taking, but since I’m single and since I’ve been clear about what this is and what this isn’t, I decide not to feel guilty about enjoying his body.
He gives me a dark expression like he seeing right inside my head, so I bury my face in his throat as the pulsing revs up. He begins purring.
I hang on tight, reveling in the way his muscles bunch up, the way his hips keep flexing as he spills into me. And then his lips collide with mine again and he groans out, “Amelia Quinn. That’s who you are now. My woman. My mate. My everything.”
I burst into tears.
“Stop that,” I plead.
He turns and sits down on the bench with me still wrapped around him, with his cock still inside me, and he brushes the hair from my face and searches my eyes. I can’t tear my gaze away. I just stare, bawling.
Why am I so fucking emotional? What the fuck?
“It’s the hormones. You’re bonding with me, you’re gearing up to go into heat, and you’re going through an emotional shift as you start to see that this makes sense. We make sense.”
I frown.
“It’s a process. Some adapt quickly. Some need more time. You have all the time you need. I’m here.”
“Let me go,” I whisper.
“Never,” he vows.
But he releases his hold on me, so I climb off his lap shakily, still coming back to earth from that orgasm. I feel him leaking down my thighs as I soap up and rinse off. He stays seated on the bench watching for a minute, then he grabs the shower gel, squirts some on his palm, rubs both palms together, then uses the lather on my hips, up and down my legs, up to my breasts.
I twist to give him my back, but it doesn’t deter him, and those soapy, strong hands work their way up and down my backside, up my spine, tickling me under my arms. I move away to reach for the shampoo.
After my hair is rinsed, I turn to see him scrubbing himself.
“Smells stronger than it did yesterday.”
My eyes dart to his face but I don’t ask any questions.
“The scent of you gearing up to go into heat.”
I swallow and ignore him as I squeeze the water out of my hair and shakily reach for the door. He halts me by hooking an arm around my waist, then takes the length of my hair and tosses it over one shoulder while he kisses the other.
“Best thing I’ve ever smelled. Wish I had nothing to do today besides fuck you.”
Me, too, Doggo.
“I need coffee.” I sidestep him and get out of the shower.
23
Mason
I find her inside the walk-in closet, dressed in jeans and an off-the-shoulder black sweater, rifling through her suitcase, frustration etched into her features. I drop my towel, and reach for a hanger holding a pair of jeans.
Though she’s pretending she’s not watching me get dressed, her increasing-in-speed heartrate gives her away. So does the scent of arousal. It’s been coming from her on a near constant basis today.
After I pull a flannel shirt on and reach into the drawer for a pair of socks, she mutters, “You didn’t put underwear on.”
“Nope.”
“Are you allergic to them?” she asks.
“I have a couple pairs,” I reply. “But rarely wear ‘em. Not real conducive to shifting. What are you hunting for?”
“None of your business.”
“You’re my business, Amelia. What are you looking for?” I squat, putting us closer to eye-level.
“I was just putting my stuff away,” she says defensively, her eyes darting everywhere but to my face.
“Lots of room on your side of the closet.” I gesture to the empty half of the closet.
“As if. I’ve also been looking around the perimeter of this closet for the engagement ring. It’s the only place I didn’t check up here the other day. In case it rolled under the door.”