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“No,” I say before she can argue. “I won’t share you this time. You’ll be mine tonight. Mine to see. Mine to touch. Mine alone.”
“Yes.”
The hall seems to stretch forever even though it must take me only seconds, but those seconds have Rosemarie squirming in my arms to get closer, to kiss every inch of skin she can touch. The long dress she’s wearing—so long and flowing it’s surely one of those Rona brought her from the witches—twists higher and higher to reveal her thighs. I want to lick my way from her ankle to her cunt and back again along the other leg, to hear her scream, to make her moan, to take her while watching those runes along her spine glow.
I drop her on my bed, the toss gentle enough not to hurt but forceful enough to watch her bounce. Her giggle rewards me. Locking the door, I turn to find my queen pulling her dress over her hips, and the woman’s wearing no panties.
“Wicked little queen.”
She continues to giggle, caught in the fabric as it hitches on her bare breasts. “Your queen.”
“Damn right.” I lash my tail to rub between her legs, and her laugh turns into a moan. “I should tie you to the bed and torment you.”
The dress slips over her head to reveal her hair in delicious disarray, her eyes wide, and her lips parted. “Oh?”
Her skin’s flushed, and I want to taste its heat on my tongue. “You like that idea.”
She catches her bottom lip in her teeth, and I need to suck away the ache. “I like the idea of trying,” she says.
Fuck, she’s perfection. I stalk toward the bed, a predator ready to toy with her for the stunt she pulled on the roof.
“Atticus,” she whispers. My name sounds reverent and holy coming from her, and I chase the need to drink from those lips. I’m a supplicant, and she’s my religion.
I should kneel and worship instead of claiming what’s rightfully beyond this sinner’s reach.
“Tell me what you desire, little queen.” My voice edges on a growl, my control slipping in her thrall.
“You.” She presses her mouth to mine, and the spark rages into an inferno.
“Now?” My question snarls out as a demand, my fangs extending so fast I tear my mouth away.
“Yes.” Her sigh marks my soul as much as any magic could.
“As your mate?”
Her gaze has gone hazy, as though she’s already giving herself over to the ecstasy to come.
I twist her hair around my clawed fist and tug her head back. “You have to say the words, little queen.”
She reaches for me. “My mate.”
The sliver of control I had left shatters. Flipping her onto her stomach, I wrap my hands around her thighs and drag her on her knees to the edge of the bed.
“Hold on,” I tell her.
She curls her fingers into the sheets. Such a good submissive. She’ll be my queen in everything except here where I can’t give up being in charge. Not that she’d ask me to change. It’s why she’s flawless, and I’ll thank the gods each day that she chose me. But in this moment, I’m out of reverence, deference, patience.
I need to claim her, to mark her as mine.
“Please,” she whispers, driving her hips toward me.
I won’t resist.
I can’t.
I push two fingers inside her, then three, being careful to retract my claws. She’s slick with sweet-smelling arousal that wraps around me, perfuming the room so thickly that it’ll coat everything. Good. I want her in my lungs, on my sheets, in my skin as much as she already fills my head, my heart.
Shoving down my pants, I haul her back against me and slam inside her in a single thrust. My wings snap out with a crack as she moans. Stilling, I drag my fingers down her spine. “See how hard you make me? I’ve been ready to bend you over this bed, my desk, the gods-damned stones since I first saw you. I knew you’d take me so beautifully. I’ve been painfully hard for nights and even days now, and it’s all your fault.” I withdraw, only to push back inside with a vengeance.
