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I don't understand why she doesn't realize it. All female wolves know when their fated mate is before them. Her pheromones are all over the place, but she doesn't seem to know what's happening. I'm starting to believe she has lived a very sheltered life.
However, I can't let her go.
I don't even know her name.
My wolf refuses to let her walk away. Just her scent is enough to drive me insane. I need her!
But as she gives me a shy look filled with a confused desire, whispering something, my whole body seizes with shock.
'A virgin? My fated mate is a virgin?''
Wolves are highly sexual, especially once they hit their youth. They don't sleep around, but one or two sexual encounters are a given. But to come across my fated mate who is still untouched, it drives my wolf crazy with greed.
She's mine! Only mine!
It's easy to take advantage of her innocent, trusting nature. All I have to do is lure her in with my touch, and I can see how hard it is for her to resist. Perhaps if I were any other male, she wouldbe able to. But I'm her fated mate. Her pheromones will keep her from thinking straight.
Satisfaction fills me when she finally kisses me back. It's a clumsy attempt, but the kiss is so much sweeter than any I've had before. I've never experienced such raw desire before. I want to devour this woman. I want her spread before me as I teach her all the carnal pleasures. I want to taint her pureness with my mark.
I don't know how I manage to get her to the hotel down the street. My mind is cloudy with desire, with her pheromones, making it hard for me to control myself with each breath. Inside the room, with the door locked behind me, I stare at the wide-eyed woman.
I can see the hesitation in her eyes, the wariness. She's struggling to think past her own desire.
I immediately touch her cheek, comfortingly. "Tonight's our night, isn't it, Anna?"
Her lips tremble, and when she hesitates before nodding, I lower my mouth onto hers. She kisses me back, fumbling, trying to match my pace. It's cute, and it makes me want to throw her on the bed and just kiss her all night. It's a mixture of desire and affection.
This woman, this woman with her innocent and shy eyes, she's going to be the death of me.
She tastes sweet, and I want more. I lick inside her mouth, and she doesn't stop me. My hands grip the edge of her dress, slowly pulling it up, stopping when she freezes, and then resuming once she relaxes.
She wants this. It's obvious. But her body has never experienced this sort of touch before, and I have to take it slow.
When my hand glides on her bare back from under the dress, I scent something other than desire. I smell fear.
And as I smell it, my fingers feel something long and bumpy along her back. Before I can ask, she stiffens. "The light. Please get the light."
I look down at her, and the desperation in her eyes makes me want to ask her why she doesn't want me to look at whatever's on her back. But that look in her eyes, it makes me reach over and flick off the light switch, shrouding us in darkness.
Her hands are gripping my upper arms, and when she releases a breath, my curiosity is piqued. It feels like scarring, an odd thing for a wolf shifter to have. It must have been a bad injury. Wolf shifters have quick healing. Therefore, very few of us have scarring.
However, feeling her relax in my arms, I turn my attention to the current situation. I kiss her again, this time trailing my mouth over her chin, along her jaw to nibble on her ear. "Should we get rid of the dress?"
She hesitates and then nods, quickly pulling it off in the process.
I press my lips together, closing my eyes, trying to suppress my laughter. She's adorable!
My laughter dies, though, when I feel her perky breasts pressed against my chest. Her nipples are hard, and my hand covers one breast. It fits in my palm, and my cock hardens almost instantly. Her soft gasp drives all the remaining blood south.
Picking her up in my arms, I carry her to the bed before gently depositing her on it.
Even in the dark, I can see the face of the woman who wants me to call her Anna. I vaguely wonder what her real name is. It must be beautiful.
She clambers to the head of the bed, and I stalk her on all fours until my arms are beside her, my mouth inches from her.
I start with soft kisses, trailing them down her neck and her collarbone, sucking on her nipples, kneading the other one. Her fingers are clenched in the bedsheet, and she whimpers in arousal. I love the sound. I want her to make more.
I bite down gently on the hard nub, and her back instantly arches. I suck relentlessly on her chest, trying to get her to moan, to whine, to shift on the bed, trying to deal with these complex feelings. When my mouth reaches her pussy, she tries to pull away, whispering, "You can't do that."
