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Before I realize what’s happening, she spins on her heel and pushes through the crowd, darting through the writhing bodies on the dance floor. A beat. Two. Then my feet unstick themselves from the floor, and I chase after her. I have a moment of panic where I think this is another dream, one where she was there, soft and warm in my arms and gone the next, vanished into thin air.
But I catch sight of her blond hair as she practically runs down a hallway heading for the restrooms. I pick up my pace and catch her just before she slips into the ladies’ room, my hand clamping onto her upper arm. She makes a surprised noise as I spin her toward me, my free hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as I slam my mouth onto hers.
She freezes, but I stick with her, moving my mouth against hers, nipping at her lips, willing her with every ounce of my being to kiss me back. Please, just fucking kiss me back.
And then… she does.
She whimpers, her hand fisting in my shirt as she pulls me into her, trying to get me closer even as I back her into the wall, pinning her with my hips. Fireworks explode behind my eyes as I grind my cock against her soft belly, seeking relief from the near constant ache there since she walked back into town.
Her lips part and I take the invitation, thrusting my tongue into her mouth like I want to thrust my cock into her body. She tastes like I remember, but faint. Tart nectarines soaked in honey, with an underlying herbal note I can’t place. There’s an overwhelming chemical flavor as well, dampening her scent, her pheromones, her taste. I resent that. I want to taste her, nothing else.
Her small hands grab my hips, pulling me against her, even though there isn’t an inch of space between us. It doesn’t stop us from trying. My fingers weave into her hair, making strands of it fall around her face, as I tilt her head to the side and trail my lips over her jaw to her neck. Her sweet gasps sound in my ear as I kiss and lick my way down to the curve of her shoulder and then back up to her lips.
“Angel,” I whisper against her lips, rolling my hips into hers. “Mine.”
She shudders delicately against me, hands moving restlessly from my chest to my shoulders to tangle in the strands at the nape of my neck and then back down, like she’s learning the feel of me all over again.
I can’t blame her. I’m doing the same, caressing every inch of her I can reach, from her soft tits to her trim waist that flairs into wide hips that I want to grip when I thrust into her. She makes gorgeous little noises of pleasure as my hands slip under the cropped black band tee, fingers sliding over the soft skin of her belly. Her hips move restively against mine, seeking friction, seeking pleasure.
Fuck if I don’t want to give it to her. “Asher,” she whimpers, as my teeth scrape over the spot on her neck I imagined sinking my teeth into a million times seven years ago. The need to bite her now makes my gums ache and my mouth water. But I force myself to be patient to hold off because she’s not ready.
She doesn’t trust us to not break her heart.
I’m so fucking lucky she’s even letting me touch her right now.
So I pull my teeth away and lick over the spot instead, trailing my tongue up to her ear. “You want me to touch you, angel?” I rasp as she squirms against me. “You want me to rub your throbbing clit and make you come?”
Her head slams against the wall as she whimpers, her hips grinding against mine, almost frantically. I pull back enough to see her eyes are closed, her chest heaving with unsteady gasps. “Sylvie,” my voice is hoarse. “Look at me.”
Her eyes fly open so fast I worry I used my alpha bark on her, but I know I didn’t. My hand slides up to cup her jaw, my thumb keeping her chin tipped up. “Tell me if you want me to touch you. I won’t do it otherwise.”
She stares at me; her need warring with indecision, and then she gives a sharp nod, pressing her chin into my thumb briefly.
Anticipation sings through me, but I don’t move beyond my lips curling into a smirk. “Words, angel.”
I feel her jaw flex under the pads of my fingers as she clenches her teeth, like she’s holding the words back, but then her body sags and her lips part. “Please, Asher. Touch me.”
A growl rumbles from my chest and I slam my mouth into hers, kissing her almost viciously. But she meets me stroke for stroke, so I know I haven’t fucked up. I shift to put enough space between our bodies for me to plunge my hand into the waistband of the sexy faux leather leggings hugging her body.
She gasps when I make contact, a low whine following as my fingers find her wet and swollen nub. I groan at the feel of her, the slick dripping from her folds. A haze descends, sweet and heavy. I’m touching my mate, feeling her wet heat, after seven fucking years of nothing.
I better fucking make it count.
Touching Vee is like second nature. Even though it’s been years, I still remember what it took to make her squirm, to make her scream.
“Yes,” she hisses, one hand reaching to wrap around my wrist, holding me there against her, while her other fumbles with the buttons on my shirt.
Her perfume fills the space, fainter than it should be, but still fucking delicious. My teeth and cock throb with the need to mate, to bite, to breed, to claim. But I hold it in check, letting out a growl when her soft little hand slides into the gap in my shirt to caress my skin.
I shift my hand, thrusting two fingers inside her with no warning, and her greedy little pussy sucks them in, clamping down, as she moans. Her hips buck, grinding the base of my palm against her clit while she fucks herself on my fingers.
“Asher,” she gasps, sounding needy and reverent, like she can’t believe how good I feel inside her. “Fuck. Asher.”
I need to hear her say my name like that every day for the rest of our lives. Four times a day, six, ten. All day, every day, I need her to only say my name exactly like that.
“That’s it, angel,” I encourage her, devouring every gasp, every sigh, every flicker of pleasure on her features. “Take what you need from me.”
I grind my cock into her hip, the friction a blessing and a curse. If we keep going like this, I will definitely come, and I’ll have to spend the rest of the night with a sticky wet spot on my jeans. I’m not going to fucking stop, though. I need this. She needs this, if the way she’s morphed into a wild thing in my arms is any indication.
