Page 101 of Bookish Girl’s Emergency Contact Is a Lycan King

“Here?” I manage between gasps.

“Here.” His teeth graze my pulse point. “Now.”

“What if someone…”

“No one comes to this part of the territory.” His hands grip my hips, lifting me. “It’s mine. You’re mine. This moment is mine.”

“Possessive.”

“Very.” He settles me against the tree, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Any complaints?”

“Ask me later.”

“I’ll ask you now.”

“No complaints.” I pull him closer, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Now stop talking and fuck me.”

His restraint snaps. He drives into me in one brutal stroke, seating himself to the hilt, stretching me open around his cock, and the rest of the sentence dissolves into a sound that isn’t words.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

We just hold there, pressed together, breathing hard, my body clenching around the thick, hot length of him, adjusting to the sensation of being joined. The moonlight filters through the branches above us. The snow glitters like scattered diamonds. And I’m pinned against a tree by a lycan king, and I have never felt more exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“Still with me?” he manages.

“More than with you.”

“Tell me if…”

“Orion.” I tighten my legs around him. “Move.”

He does.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s primal and desperate and exactly what I need, the aftermath of fear transformed into something fierce and claiming and ours. His hips slam into me with a rhythm that matches my heartbeat, each thrust driving deep enough to punch the breath out of me, and I meet him stroke for stroke, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks he’ll wear for days.

“More,” I gasp.

“Demanding,” he growls.

“You like it.”

“I love it.” His mouth finds my throat, his hand sliding between us to work my clit in tight, merciless circles that have me clenching around him. “I love you. Now come on my cock so I can feel it.”

“That’s filthy.”

“You’re soaked around me. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

I can’t pretend. He drives into me over and over, that clever hand never letting up, until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel. The bark scrapes my back raw with every thrust, and I don’t care. The cold air bites at my exposed skin, and I don’t care. Nothing exists except him and me and this perfect, feral moment.

“Fable…” His voice cracks apart. “I’m close.”

“Me too.”

“I want…” He stops. Starts again. “I want to be inside you when…”

“Yes.”

“When I…”