Page 410 of Primal

Her breath hitches. “You gonna mark me again?”

“Every inch. Inside and out.”

I shove the mask up just enough to taste her. The skirt rides up her thighs, exposing that strip of skin I’ve worshiped a thousand times with my tongue, teeth, cock—and still can’t fucking get enough of.

My mouth follows instinct. So do my hands. I drag my tongue down her stomach, biting every soft inch I find.

She arches like a little prey catching heaven, every twitch of her hips daring me to ruin her deeper.

Her moan splits the night and I swallow it whole.

“Say it,” I demand, nipping her collarbone.

“Yours.” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Always fucking yours.”

And right there, in the dirt and the dark, I take her—again, and again, and again—until we forget how to be anything else.

“Fuck … that was … incredible,” she rasps, one arm hooked around my neck, the other fisted in the dirt like she’s holding on for dear life. “You’re lucky I let you catch me.”

“Yeah? You tackled me like a feral raccoon.”

“I won, didn’t I?” She grins, all teeth and fire.

Her hair’s a wreck, one knee already scraped raw.

“Still think I’m your monster?”

Her smile is wicked. “Yes. Only mine.”

I bite down a groan, burying my face in her throat.

She shivers. Sighs my name like it’s a prayer I might actually believe.

The woods don’t give a shit what we are.

The stars don’t see us bleed.

Only the ghosts remember. Tonight, they sing instead of scream.