The fact that he's still holding back, still protecting me even as pleasure tears through him, makes my chest tighten with unexpected emotion. He values me. But I also want to be the reason his control finally breaks.
And he’s about to break. His muscles tense beneath my free hand where it rests on his thigh. Just as he approaches the edge, his hand tightens in my hair, pulling me away.
"Enough," he growls, eyes fully gold now. "Hands and knees."
The command sends heat pooling between my thighs, the wolf and the woman in me shiver in anticipation. My breath catches as he manhandles me into position. My skin prickles with anticipation, feeling exposed and powerful all at once. I arch my back slightly, an invitation. A demand of my own. The bond between us pulses with shared hunger. Fuck yes.
His hand slides down my spine, ending with his fingers between my legs. "So wet for me," he murmurs, his voice a rumble that sends shivers through me. "Beautiful woman."
His fingers explore thoroughly, one then two pushing inside. The careful intrusion sends sparks racing up my spine, my body already primed and desperate from pleasuring him. His satisfaction at finding me so ready seeps into me through our connection.
I push back against his hand, needing more. My patience is completely shot. "Fuck, Fen," I manage, the words barely coherent. "More."
"No rushing," he says, amusement coloring his tone even as his fingers continue their maddening rhythm. His other hand grips my hip, holding me steady as I try to take control of the pace.
His pleasure feeds mine in an endless circuit that's driving me insane. "Tell me more of what?" He curls his fingers inside me, finding a spot that makes my elbows buckle.
"You," I gasp as his thumb presses more firmly against my clit. My arms tremble with the effort of holding myself up, sweat beading along my spine despite the cabin's chill. "Inside me. Now. Please."
The last word isn't one I use often, but I'm beyond pride. I need him with a desperation that would frighten me if I had any capacity left for fear.
He leans over me, his chest against my back, lips brushing my ear. The heat of him blankets me. His heart hammers against my back. His control is hanging by a thread. Good.
"Since you asked so nicely," he whispers, the words a hot caress against my skin.
The anticipation is almost unbearable, my entire body is as taut as a bowstring, waiting for release.
Before I can shoot back a reply, he's positioning himself and pushing forward in one long stroke that steals the breath from my lungs. He pauses when fully seated, giving me a moment to adjust to the stretch and fullness. His breath comes heavy against my shoulder, his control evident in the trembling of the arms bracketing mine.
"Move," I urge, pushing back against him impatiently.
His hips withdraw and snap forward again, setting a pace that's just this side of rough. Each thrust pushes a small sound from my throat, pleasure building rapidly with the perfect angle.
One of his hands leaves my hip to wrap in my hair, pulling my head back. "I want to hear you," he growls. "Don't hold back."
As if to emphasize his point, he changes the angle slightly, hitting a spot inside me that makes me cry out, stars exploding behind my eyes. The sound drives him harder, his pace increases. The slap of skin on skin fills the cabin.
Without warning, he pulls me upright so my back presses against his chest, my knees spread wide across his thighs. The new position drives him impossibly deeper, and I reach back to grasp his hair, anchoring myself.
His hands move to my breasts, cupping and kneading, thumbs flicking over my nipples. I arch into his touch, head falling back against his shoulder. He takes advantage of the exposed column of my throat, lips finding the mark he left last night.
The moment his tongue touches the sensitive scar it's as though every nerve ending in my body ignites simultaneously, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. The dual sensation of his mouth on the mark and his body moving inside mine is too much. I shatter with a cry, walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over me.
All I know is his mouth on my neck, his hands on my breasts, his body driving into mine. My vision whites out at the edges. My lungs struggling to draw breath.
Through the haze of my own release, I feel Fen's rhythm falter, his grip tightening to the point of bruising. The echo of my pleasure rebounds through our connection and slams back into him. I feel the exact moment he releases. His breath is hot and ragged against my neck. My name tears from his throat like a prayer or a curse.
He pulses inside me, each throb sending aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive body. The bond transmits his release to me in waves of heat and satisfaction, extending my own climax until I'm trembling and incoherent beneath him. It's too much and not enough and perfect all at once.
Fen takes us down to the floor gently. He presses gentle kisses along my shoulder and neck, his arms wrap around me and spreads one hand possessively across my stomach.
"That," he says eventually, "is a hell of a way to wake up."
A laugh escapes me, slightly breathless. "Noted for future reference."
He turns me around to face him. His expression is softer than I've ever seen it, golden eyes warm with something that makes everything inside me turn to goo. His thumb traces my lower lip, gaze following the movement with intense focus.
"You're remarkable," he murmurs. "My fierce mate."
