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I planned on doing it for as long as she’d let me.

“Warrick?”

“Yeah, dove?”

“What did you say before?” she whispered into the dark room. “In your language. You’ve said it to me before.”

I curled my arm around her more firmly. “Precious one. It means precious one.”

* * *

Willow

I was on my knees, and I looked up at my alpha in the steam-filled shower stall. His eyes were predatory, unwavering as I took him deeper into my mouth. One of his hands thrust into my hair as his lips peeled back, revealing all those straight white teeth. His other hand hit the tile wall as if he needed the support to hold himself up.

It was a sight to see, that hard mask Warrick always wore cracking for me. He was magnificent. Naked and wet, every sinewy, muscled inch straining, bulging with the effort of holding himself in check.

“Dove,” he snarled, and his hips rocked forward.

Warrick liked a little pain with his pleasure, so I squeezed and tugged on his balls, currently in my hand, and he groaned low, his tree-trunk thighs shaking.

I felt him start to thicken in my mouth, and he quickly pulled out before he could hurt me. I wrapped both hands around him in a tight grip and he thrust into my hold.

“Tits,” he gritted out. “On your tits.”

I stood, and he pumped his hips harder, cursing as he came on my breasts and stomach. When he was spent, he leaned forward, head bent, resting on my shoulder, breath sawing in and out of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” I said.

His hand dropped to my chest, and he rubbed his seed over the mounds of my breasts, down over my stomach, then lower, between my thighs. “Don’t hold a candle to you,” he rasped. “My beautiful mate.”

I moaned as he worked my clit, quivering. Mate. It was the first time either of us had said the word out loud. I expected to freak out, but instead, warmth bloomed in my chest. This, here with him, felt so incredibly right. Gripping his shoulders, I tipped my head back, and he gave me what I silently asked for. He kissed me.

He kissed me like the alpha hellhound he was, like no one else ever had.

One of his thick fingers slid inside me and I moaned into his mouth. A gritty sound vibrated from him in return.

“Always so wet for me, dove.”

“Yes.”

“Because this”—he pushed in a second finger—“was made for me.”

He dragged his thumb over my clit, and I was close to the edge of sanity in moments.

“My perfect little witch, every part of you was made just for me.”

Yes.

He fucked me with his fingers, faster, deeper, and I gripped his biceps to hold myself up.

“One day soon, I’m going to take you away to my cabin and I’m going to keep you naked and fuck you every way it’s possible to fuck. Outside. In the dirt. Under the moon. By the lake, in the lake. I’m going to fuck you over the table after I’ve fed you, and in the shower after I’ve washed your hair. You want that, dove?”

I nodded, it was all I was capable of at that point. Then he dipped his head and sucked my nipple into his mouth and lightly bit down. I bucked against him and screamed, coming hard, clutching at him as if I never wanted him to leave me—and terrifyingly, that was the truth.

Because that’s exactly what would happen, only it would be me leaving him. Mortality was a bitch.

The thought of losing him now wasn’t something I could bear.