Page 38 of Big Bad Wolf

Especially when Wolf braces his big paws on his hips, tail lashing, as he growls deep in his chest. “No.”

“Yes.”

Wolf bares his fangs at me. “No.”

Reaching out, I grab his tail, give it a tweak. His growl dies in his throat, turning into a rumble in an instant. His eyes flash as he looms over me.

I roll mine. “I told you that I was going to go visit our neighbor whether you want me to or not.”

In response, Wolf yanks down his linen trousers. His cock leaps to his hand, my insatiable mate watching me with such a predatory look, I can’t help but shiver.

Okay. That was my fault. From the first time that Wolf used his tail to get me sopping wet for him, we’ve incorporated it into our play time. All it takes is a quick tug with my fingers and it’s like it goes straight to his dick. Not like he isn’t always ready to go anyway, but I tugged his tail and he needs to distract me so of course he’s going to attempt to lead me to the nest instead of out into a snowstorm.

I mimic his earlier pose. Boots on the floor—because I still refuse to walk around in the woods without my feet covered if I can help it—and hands on my hips, I jut my chin up at my mate. “Not now.”

He whimpers, giving himself a rough stroke. “You refuse me, Charlotte? Your Wolf?”

What a drama queen. “Of course not. But if I let you fuck me, you’ll have me in your nest until I’ve forgotten why I grabbed my cloak and yanked my boots on.”

His golden eyes flash, a spark of orange as vibrant as the flames dancing in the fireplace. “If you let Wolf fuck you, you won’t want to leave.”

Not this again. I always know he’s getting ramped up when he reverts to referring to himself in the third person. Over the last four years, we’ve worked on it, but sometimes… sometimes he can’t help it.

Moving into Wolf, patting his chest while trying not to delight in the way his fur cushions my fingertips, I tilt my head back so that he can see the earnest—and honest—look on my face. “I’m not leaving you. I didn’t all those seasons ago, and I’m not going now.”

“But the bears⁠—”

I thumb his nipple. I’m playing with fire, the way his heart thrums beneath my heated touch, but I can’t stop myself. “I’m not afraid of any bears, baby. Not when I have my big, bad wolf with me.”

His brow furrows. “Wolf can… Wolf can come?”

Going up on my tiptoes, I brush my lips against the nearest fang I can reach. “Of course you can.” As if I ever thought I’d be able to go off in search of the human woman without him. Besides, he’s not the only one who harbors trauma over that huntsman fucker… “And then, after we’re home again, I’ll make sure you come again as many times as you like.”

Wolf fists my hair, yanking with just enough force that he can angle my head where he wants it without eliciting a yelp of pain—or surprise—out of me. When I first realized that I’d caught the attention of a werewolf, I figured I would never be kissed again. Between the snarls and the fangs and the wild hunger, it didn’t seem like a good idea, and if I hadn’t been stunned and out of my mind with lust the first time he started licking my pussy, I would’ve been terrified that he’d puncture my labia with one of those bad boys.

Turns out, I was wrong. It took a little time, a little patience, and a lot of figuring out the mechanics when, to Wolf, mating was instinctive yet kissing wasn’t, but my mate definitely knows how to work his tongue.

His grip on my hair tightens just enough to hold me in place as he lowers his mouth to mine. He pauses like he always does, like he’s remembering those long ago lessons, before he takes my mouth with the same possessive edge as he owns my body.

When he breaks free, leaving me with weak knees and the taste of Wolf on my lips, he bows his head, resting his forehead to the top of my hood. “Charlotte,” he grates out, his voice raspy yet thick. “You stay.”

Charlotte… nine times out of ten, I’m his Red. It took me just as long to teach Wolf what my name is, but he prefers to use his nickname for me. It doesn’t bother me anymore, though when he does revert to Charlotte, I know he’s trying to reach me.

I huff out a soft laugh as my hands slide up his chest, fingers catching in the dark fur there. “I’ve stayed for years, Wolf. You know that.”

“Still. I need to know that you choose Wolf again.”

Something in my chest softens at his need to be wanted as much as I do.

Reaching behind me, I ghost my fingers over the mate mark that’s as noticeable today as it was when Wolf first bit me. “Every day,” I promise.

He growls again and, before I know it, he’s returned for another kiss. It’s different than the first one. Instead of frantic and overwhelming, Wolf presses his lips against mine with a gentle agreement—and the sensation that I’ve told him what he wants to hear, and now he’s ready to give me what I need.

My fingers curl into him as I go up, rising onto the toes of my boots, meeting him halfway.

“Mine,” he murmurs against my mouth.

I smile against him. “Yours.”