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She had her hands back in my hair and tugged at the strands, her fingertips digging into my scalp as if she were losing control. Just like me. I fucking loved that she was lost in her passion.

I felt the last bit of control snap in me, all restraint and civility leaving as my wolf was now the one in control, the dominant creature in all of this.

With a harsh growl, I pulled back only long enough to tear at my clothes, material flying in tattered remains. I did the same to her pants, careful of my claws on her delicate skin, but I needed my female naked and bared for me.

And when Darragh was naked, her gorgeous body spread out on the bed like my own personal offering, the long, dark fall of her hair fanned out on the crisp white pillowcase, I peeled my lips from my teeth and snapped my gaze to her face. Her eyes widened as she no doubt saw the partial change occur within me. I felt my body get bigger and knew my eyes glowed. My claws were out fully now, my cock jerking as pre-cum was a constant flow from the tip. I felt that clear fluid slip down my length, a precursor to how much cum I’d fill her up with.

“God,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt so… desperate, Caelan. I’m burning alive.”

I growled, the sound filling the room, vibrating the walls. And although we were far from my family, I knew the sounds of claiming my mate for the first time would rock this entire fucking house.

I didn’t stop myself from reaching down and gripping her leg, gently pulling it out. She did the same to her other one all on her own, knowing what we both needed. She parted for me, showing me the sweet spot I ached to be buried in.

While looking into her eyes, I dragged my knuckles up and down her cleft, hearing her gasp of pleasure from the touch, seeing her arch up as if she couldn’t stop herself. I was shaking, trying to control myself.

“Sweet gods,” I heaved out. “Ye’re drenched for me.” I forced myself to look down the length of her body, circled the small indentation of her navel with my gaze, and looked at her soaked cunt. She was glistening and pink, swollen from the blood flow and her desire for me. My mouth watered for a taste.

I wanted her honey sliding down the back of my throat. I wanted to sustain my life with the flavor of her need for me.

But as much as I wanted to eat her out, was so fucking starved for her I was dizzy, I had no control for that.

I needed to claim her. Now.

31

Darragh

I was drowning, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to get to the surface to suck in a much needed lungful of oxygen. Not with the way Caelan was looking at me. Not with the way he touched me, stroked me. Certainly not with the erotic growls that came from his big chest.

I had my hands curled into the blanket beneath me, my legs spread wide, the curtains partially open so just a sliver of afternoon light came through. His gaze seemed to stroke over every inch of my body like a physical touch.

He kept caressing me between my thighs, running his knuckles up and down my slit, his motions soft, slow… meticulous. And when I felt his fingertips brush along my clit, I gasped and arched up, my legs falling open even more. I couldn’t think, let alone speak. I wanted to beg for more, plead with him to ease the suffering I was clearly experiencing.

There was a strange panting sound that came from him, part animal, part desperate male need, and when he lifted his soaked hand up, his fingers all the way to his knuckles drenched, glistening from my arousal, my jaw went slack.

“I’ll never get enough,” he said in a low tone as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked all my arousal from those digits, his eyes closing, this slow, deep sound of pleasure and appreciation coming from him like a blast of heat that covered my entire body.

I was pretty sure I could’ve orgasmed from that sight and sound alone, but it was when he opened his eyes, his pupils so dilated all I saw was black with flashes of glowing embers behind them as his inner animal rose up, that I knew I was seconds away from demanding he thrust inside me.

“Caelan.” His name was nothing but a scratchy, strained plea from my throat.

I glanced down the length of his chest, over his defined pectorals, lower still to his abdomen that looked like it was made up of mountains of muscle, slabs of strength. My gaze latched on to the huge erection that stood straight out from between his tree-trunk-sized thighs. I swore his cock was as thick as my wrist, at least the length of my forearm. The heavy veins that ran up and down that girth had more wetness spilling from me.

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