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She shuddered and turned her head away. “No.”
He gripped her hair and narrowed his eyes. “Name. Now.”
“Abella”
“Abella.” Simple. Beautiful. Sounding it drove him toward the edge. “Abella.” He groaned and bucked within her, in the hottest longest release of his life. Together they plunged into a chasm that knew only blinding pleasure. He collapsed, but held his body up by his arms so as not to crush his Little Wolf, who had a real name not shared with other men. Abella.
He’d fucked many she-wolves, but never one as glorious and so easy to please. He crashed onto his back, drew her close so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He sighed in deep masculine satisfaction. “Abella.”
She stiffened. “Please, it’s Cricket.”
“I promise in front of others, I’ll call you Cricket, but alone, I’ll call you Abella.”
“No.”
He kissed her forehead. “What does Abella mean?”
“Breath.”
“Interesting.”
“I didn’t breathe when I was born. Father resuscitated me. My mother lost all her pups, but named me.”
“So your mother was beta or omega?”
“Omega, the lowest in our pack, and I was a mistake.”
Omegas rarely mated, but such matings weren’t unheard of. His own pack had two mated omegas. “Nonsense, your parents loved you.”
“Slade, sir. Please, don’t call me Abella, ever.”
“Why?”
“My mother said on
ly my true mate will call me Abella. And since the man who loves me cannot be werewolf, I will not share it with men who have me just for their own pleasure.”
Guilt tore at his heart. She spoke truth. Abella or rather Cricket could only be a temporary pleasure, nothing more. Pack rules. “As I recall, you enjoyed our romp as much as I did.”
She laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
His fingers stroked her luscious hair. “Now that you’re satisfied, you won’t feel the need to sleep with men as part of your cover.”
She raised her head. “What?”
“I understand because of your status and your rather insatiable libido, you sought to play the seductress on missions, but now that I pleasured you, there will be no more such dalliances.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She sat up. Her glazed “just had hot sex” look, replaced by a “who, the hell, stepped on my tail” look.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not.”
“Having sex with you was mind blowing, epic, hotter than a giant volcano, but I was doing my duty to keep you from going mad wolf on an airplane.”
“Duty!”
She flinched and got off the bed. “Well, yeah.”
This time he’d spank her until she couldn’t sit for a week. His fangs extended. Or maybe bite that perky ass of hers. Duty? Not the way she pleasured him, and how she spasmed in ecstasy. If anything, he did his duty to keep her from whoring around with strangers. Fur lined his back.
