Page 56 of Bookish Girl’s Emergency Contact Is a Lycan King

“Orion…”

“That’s it. Say my name. I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

He seals his lips around my clit and sucks, and I shatter.

The orgasm crashes through me in waves, cresting and breaking and pulling me under, and I’m moaning his name, filthy and desperate, my hands fisting in his hair as my body arches off the couch. His eyes blaze near-white, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking me through every pulse and aftershock until I’m boneless and gasping and trembling in his grip.

Finally, finally, he pulls back.

Presses a kiss to my inner thigh. My hip. The soft curve of my belly.

Then he climbs up my body, gathers me into his arms, and settles us properly on the couch, my back to his chest, one heavy arm banded across my hips, his face buried in my hair.

“That was…” I can’t finish the sentence. Don’t have words.

“Just the beginning.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “When you’re ready. When you want more.”

I can feel him against my lower back, hard, impossibly hard, pressing against me in a way that makes it very clear he didn’t get the same release I did.

“You’re still…”

“I’ll survive.”

“But don’t you want…”

“I want a lot of things.” His voice is gentle but firm. “I want to give you everything. But not tonight. Tonight was for you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” There’s a smile in his voice now. “Sleep, Fable.”

“I can’t just sleep after you…”

“You can. You’re exhausted. I can feel it in the way your body’s going soft against mine.” He tightens his arm around my waist. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

“Will you stay?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

I tuck myself closer against him, breathing him in, woodsmoke and pine and that wild green note underneath, and it makes me feel safe and wanted and home.

His heartbeat is steady against my back. His arm is warm around my waist. His body is still hard against mine, still wanting, still waiting.

But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t take. Just holds me, strokes my hair, lets me drift.

I fall asleep wrapped in him.

I dream of golden eyes.

Of running through trees, fast and free, with something massive and warm keeping pace beside me. The moon is bright overhead and the ground is soft beneath my feet and I’m not afraid, I’m exhilarated, alive in a way I’ve never felt while awake.

Something is hunting me.

No, not hunting. Following. Protective. Present.

Something in the dark that knows my name. Ancient and patient and utterly devoted.

I should be afraid.