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He loomed over her, his fingers sank into her hair, closing in a fist around her blonde locks. “Unfortunately for you, little wolf, as you pointed out, you were bought and paid for. You belong to me.”
Yep, she was definitely prey.
Before she could answer, his head came down and he claimed her mouth with a gentle persuasive pressure as heat flashed through her system. His lips whispered against hers—seductive and intense. He used his hand to angle her head where he wanted it as he backed her against the wall. His other hand came to cup her jaw and hold her still for his sensual exploration of her mouth.
She was Italian. She made wine for a living. She had been inebriated on more than one occasion, but this was something more than that. This was what it felt like to be on drugs. She was sure of it—not that she’d ever been on drugs, but the description of feeling out of control was exactly what she was feeling.
Out of control and completely embracing her power as a woman. He nipped at her bottom lip, using his tongue to trace along the seam of her mouth, gently forcing her to let him in. When she relaxed, he intensified the kiss and his tongue surged inside, commanding hers as it tangled and danced. It was hard to breathe.
Lust rolled down the tether, overwhelming her. His kiss wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d made out with guys, but it was nothing like this. Those kisses were polite, chaste. This wasn’t like that. This was an alpha wolf claiming his mate.
He pulled her sweater over her head, tossing it away before removing her bra and letting it join the discarded sweater. Simone managed to remove her hiking boots while clinging to him as he unfastened and pushed her jeans down her body, ripping her panties away. For the second time in as many days, she was once again naked with her mate.
Mischa lifted his head. “Ask me. I am honor bound not to claim you as mine. As angry as you are, you know I speak the truth.”
She looked up at him, knowing she had the power to deny him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Simone knew all she had to do was ask him; acquiescence wouldn’t do. He had promised her father that he would do no more than what she asked of him.
“Please, Mischa.”
“Please, Mischa, what? I need to hear the words.”
“Please make love to me.”
“Those aren’t the words.”
“Please…”
“What is it you want, Simone? Tell me.”
“Claim me as yours.”
A wicked smile lifted the corners of his mouth as pure lust rolled down the link, and passion lit a fire in his eyes. He lowered his head, sucking in one of her pebbled peaks, nipping it before soothing it with his rhythmic suckling. A wildfire surged through her veins, heating her blood, and making her feel as she had with him the night before.
He kept his one fist in her hair as he released her jaw with the other and his hand snaked down her body, tickling her clit before moving down to part her labia as he switched from one nipple to the other. He parted her legs with his thigh, allowing her to rest on it.
“You want your pleasure, little wolf, work for it.”
Simone gyrated her hips, her engorged clit finding pleasure in the rough denim of his jeans. She knew this was wrong. They weren’t bonded, but she knew he spoke the truth—they were mates; fated mates. She knew she should struggle, squirm, and fight him, but she lacked the will or desire to do so—anything except seek her pleasure.
He murmured against her skin as his mouth left her breasts to kiss the hollow of her throat and move up her neck until he recaptured her mouth as he kissed her possessively, dominantly, and completely. She could no longer think, but she didn’t need to. They would be one in all things. He brought his hand up to play with her breasts, cupping them before rolling and pinching her nipples.
Simone moaned as she sagged into him, offering him no resistance or defense as he continued to play her body like a finely-tuned instrument. Without releasing her hair, he spun her around so that she was facing the wall. He tugged her hair, lighting up her scalp and reminding her who the dominant partner was.
“My fierce little wolf, you are my perfect and fated mate. No one has ever moved me the way you do,” he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck and snaked his free hand down between the wall and her body until he could cup her sex.
He pulled her back so that her buttocks were pushed up against his hard, throbbing member. Mischa kicked her legs apart as his hand reached between them to free his cock from his jeans. As much as she could feel his need, she could feel her own even more. Simone kept reminding herself that she should do something to stop this from happening. The only issue was this was inevitable. They had been set on this course from the moment they were born—each of them enduring what they had to in order to be with each other in this time and in this place.
Mischa’s engorged staff rubbed along the cleft of her ass cheeks before sliding between her legs and probing the entrance to her core—a place where all of her senses and feelings had converged. She felt him position his cock and then thrust forward with a powerful stroke, raising her up on her toes as he took complete possession of not only her body and its response, but she feared her heart and soul, as well.
“Mine,” he growled as he nipped the side of her neck where it met her clavicle.
She cried out in both surrender and ecstasy. Simone hadn’t doubted his ability to bend her body to his will or to make her orgasm—he had proven that the night before. But the speed and force with which her body surrendered and her pussy spasmed along his length had caught her unaware.
Her nipples ached painfully, her legs trembled, and her body shook as though she might fall apart in his hands. Never had any man made her feel this way. Her breath caught in her chest, but not like it did when she was having a panic attack. Her pussy continued to shudder all along the hard cock that now plundered it.
Her world began to collapse to just a primal response to Mischa’s feral lovemaking. Her ability to speak was gone—she could only manage moans and mewling whimpers—and her ability to think was deteriorating rapidly.
Mischa’s groin slammed into her backside as he pounded into her again and again. Each time her body made contact with the wall itself as she was caught between two solid objects—the wall and Mischa. She was sure in a contest of strength that her mate would win.
