Wolf's Prize, page 17
“It is not working!”
“Listen to me. You can do this.” His warm breath whispered against her face, and she moaned, quivering beneath him. She searched for things to fill her mind with. Things other than Aimon. Things that helped to calm her in times of stress. She followed the scent of the forest, the pine, the damp earth and the wildflowers at the edge of the clearing.
The roaring began to subside. An owl returned to its hollow, a polecat followed the scent of rabbits looking for their burrow and a pine marten scurried into hiding. With each breath, her wolf retreated, her fur receded and her canines retracted. With a final crack of her wrist, her body relaxed back into her human form. She lay still, holding her wolf firmly in place. Would Aimon retreat now? Deem her not ready because she could not control her wolf? She opened her eyes to Aimon smiling down at her.
“You did it.”
He planted a kiss on her nose, her cheek, her mouth—soft and gentle. Chaste. She swallowed her disappointment. He would push away from her now, her chance lost.
Aimon caressed her face with his fingers, his gaze locked on hers. “I am not leaving you, ma belle renarde. I am too far gone to back away now.”
He claimed her mouth again and his tongue slipped past her lips. A poker to the burning coals of her need, he stoked her desire. Her wolf rumbled in the back of her mind but remained dormant. No sprouting fur or cracking bones. It wanted Aimon, too.
Emboldened, she let her hands wander, caressing the soft skin over the hard packed muscle of his shoulders and his back. Lower still over the rounded globes of his cheeks. He nipped at her lip and her fingers clenched, clasping his muscular buttocks. He ground his hips against her core, and an unfamiliar ache settled deep in her womb. She held on tight, urging him to do it again. When he did, she tilted her hips, thrusting herself against his thick erection.
He groaned. “Oh, Kathryn. You are testing my control. Have tested it since the day I first kissed you.”
He nuzzled at her neck, the hollow of her throat, then across her chest to first one nipple then the other, nipping and licking a fiery trail across her skin. Further still, his velvety mouth continued down, her stomach quivering with each touch. His hands clasping her hips, his mouth dipped lower until his tongue licked a path along the seam of her core.
Kathryn’s eyes flew open. No one in the women’s circle had ever mentioned this.
“Aimon,” she rasped, her breathing heavy. Wetness dampened between her legs, and not from his tongue. Mortified, she attempted to push him away, but he grasped her hands, stilling her protests.
“Let me look at you.”
Kathryn squirmed beneath his intense stare.
“So wet for me.” He pressed his nose against her and inhaled. “You smell divine.”
More dampness. Her face heated, her cheeks burning hot. With gentle hands, he spread her thighs, opening her up to his covetous gaze. He growled.
With that one look, her embarrassment fled, replaced by a need so strong she almost forgot to breathe. She let her legs flop open, reveling in Aimon’s fixed attention. To be so desired, to elicit such longing, made her feel powerful. She arched her spine, her nipples taut and engorged, thrust out, presenting herself to him.
He growled again and buried his face between her thighs, lathing her with his tongue. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head dropped back. It was sinful, decadent and more than she could ever have imagined.
Aimon’s tongue circled the little nub at the top of her sex, and her hips jerked. He chuckled against her and did it again.
“Do you like it when I do that?”
“Mnh.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, making it impossible to verbalize her feelings. Her whole body shook with sensation. Aimon did it once more, this time sliding his finger through her wet folds. Kathryn moaned. His finger pressed at her entrance, and as he sucked her nub into his mouth, he slid his finger in. A stream of nonsense words fell from her mouth.
With a gentle hand and a firm tongue, he set up a slow rhythm, and Kathryn flung her arms out clutching at the grass for something to hold, something to ground her. Her head rolled from side to side, her body flushed and tensed in expectation. Then Aimon curled his finger inside her and stars exploded behind her eyes. Her body arched, and a cry tore from her throat, as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled over her body.
Kathryn’s orgasm ripped through her. He had given her that, the only man to have done so.
Aimon growled low in his throat. Merde, he needed her, wanted to be buried in her wet heat to the hilt and thrusting inside of her. Arms flung out, eyes closed, her hair spread like flames of fire across the forest floor—he had never seen a more beautiful sight. His nostrils flared. His wolf was now the one threatening to take over. Somehow, he maintained his form.
He slid his body over hers and positioned himself between her thighs. She was wet and ready for him, and he was more than ready for her, but he would need to take this slowly. He dipped his head into the curve of her neck and inhaled her scent. Her body quivered beneath him, and she clung to him. He slid his cock through her slippery folds, then paused at her entrance. Her eyes flew open, her pupils wide and uncertain.
“This may hurt a little at first,” he whispered against her cheek.
Her breath hitched, but her hands pulled him closer. Steeling himself, he sank slowly into her warm, wet heat. He groaned. Mon Dieu, she was tight, and the clench of her channel around him almost had him spill his seed as if it were his first time, not hers.
This, this bliss, was what he had hungered for from the moment he had seen her in the forest. No, from the moment he had caught her scent at Langeais Keep. Why he had denied himself this for so long, he could no longer recall.
She whimpered, and he stilled, though his body demanded he fulfill the act to completion. Holding his control together by the barest of threads, his cock buried deep, he waited and watched for a sign that she was ready. He would wait all night if need be, but he sent a fervent prayer to God, to the moon, to anyone who would listen, that it would not take that long.
With an impatient mewl, she shifted her hips, driving him deeper. He moaned, leaned down, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth and began to move, a slow rhythm of withdraw and thrust. His body shook with the effort to maintain his sedate pace, her breath puffing against his cheek and her hips undulating to meet his.
“Aimon,” she gasped. “I need…I need more.”
Her plea, and the insistent urging of her hands, were a testament to the fire inside of her that intrigued and excited him so much. He could deny her nothing. Relaxing his restraint, he gave them both what they wanted, what they needed, pounding into her, and she met his thrusts with reckless abandon. A tingle started in his balls, racing up his spine, and as she clenched around him, reaching her peak, she sent him over the edge.
“Aimon!”
His hoarse shout mingled with hers, as his whole body went rigid, and he emptied his seed inside her.
As his body ceased its shuddering, he collapsed beside Kathryn, spent, but sated. For now. Aimon turned his face toward her, looking at her through hooded lids, and found her staring at him—beautiful hazel eyes and a nose full of freckles. He leaned in and dropped a kiss on her forehead. He let his gaze run over her body, her nipples still pert and skin flushed from their lovemaking. It would only be a matter of time before he would want Kathryn again.
She smiled at him and reached out to lay a hand on his chest. “Thank you for my moonlit run. We should do this every night.”
He raised his eyebrows at her, grinning. “You are very bold, Kathryn Beauchene.”
She frowned. “I guess I do not behave the way other women do,” she said, looking away from him.
“No, you do not, ma belle renarde.”
He reached out and turned her to face him. He took her mouth in his, letting her know just how much he liked that. Aimon released her, and she snuggled into him, her soft, feminine body curved against him. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a gentle light about the clearing. He wished they could stay this way all night, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, but they would need to return to the keep soon or Anne would send out a search party.
With the old cook sure to gloat at the outcome of her scheming, Aimon had no wish for a confrontation. As it was, with his clothes torn during his hurried transition, they would have to sneak back into the keep through the kitchen. Anne was not the only person they would need to avoid. The guilt would hit him soon enough. That he had taken Kathryn at all, much less in the middle of the night on the forest floor, already pinched at him. Meeting Farren in the halls while naked, in the company of his scantily clad daughter, was something his conscience was not yet ready to face.
Beyond the clearing, careful to remain downwind, belly flat to the grass, lay a brown wolf. His lip curled in a vicious, silent snarl, he stared at the reclining lovers before slipping away, unseen, into the forest.
Chapter Twenty-Five
With his hand tucked in hers, Kathryn and Aimon snuck in through the kitchen, tiptoeing along the halls to her bedchamber, giggling like a pair of naughty children. A bath of steaming hot, scented water awaited them and coals, freshly stoked, glowed in the brazier. She grinned.
Thank you, Anne. For everything.
She ran her gaze over Aimon, every glorious inch of him available for her eyes to feast on.
“Shall we?” Aimon asked, inclining his head to the tub.
Kathryn’s breath hitched at the heat in his gaze. “Oh, yes.”
She doffed her chemise and climbed in. Water sloshed over the rim as Aimon settled his muscular frame in behind her. He drew her back against his chest, his thighs bracketing her hips, and proceeded to wash her down with gentle hands. He started at her neck, working his way across her shoulders and down her arms, easing the tightness in her muscles.
Kathryn rested her head back against his shoulder, lost in his tender ministrations. Nothing she had heard from the women of the court had prepared her for such tenderness, or such passion. Her instincts, her careful weighing of her options, had not led her astray. Aimon would make her a good match, a good husband.
Tilting her head to look at him, she met his gaze, and her heart swelled, the intensity of emotion overwhelming. Was this what her father had experienced with her mother? Her aunt with her Uncle Jacques?
Aimon touched his lips to her forehead, his hands shifting to her stomach, then her breasts. Desire flared, and her exhaustion dissipated. Again? So soon? His hands slipped lower, gently washing her inner thighs and cleansing her folds with soft strokes. She arched her back, all but lost to sensation. His hard length pressed into her bottom. She was not alone in being aroused. Could her hands on him elicit a similar response, as his did on her?
Twisting herself around to face him, she straddled his long legs and planted her bottom on his thighs. She wanted to see him, touch him, have him lost in her caresses as she had been in his. She placed her palms on his chest. His blue eyes darkened. Emboldened, she rubbed her thumbs against his nipples. He gasped, and she stilled, her hands poised over him. He leaned back against the tub and placed his arms along the rim.
“Touch me all you want, ma belle renarde.”
A shiver quivered down her spine. Ma belle renarde. My beautiful vixen. His. He had said it before in the forest, but caught up in his kisses, in the way he had awakened her body with his touch, she had paid it no mind.
She flicked her fingers across his nipples once more, reveling in the flair of his nostrils. She dipped her hands beneath the water, trailing them across his stomach. His muscles rippled under her touch. Lower still, until her hands connected with his hardened shaft. As hard as steel, yet supple. She wrapped a hand around him. He uttered a tortured groan, and his cock twitched beneath her palm. Alarmed, she snatched her hand away. Had she hurt him? She did not think she had squeezed him too hard.
Aimon grasped her hand and moved it back to his cock. Hesitant, she wrapped her fingers around him again, opening her mind and calling on her wolf to read him. His pleasure battered her senses, and the scent of his arousal drenched her. Her sex clenched. With his hand still covering hers, he tightened her grip, guiding her in smooth strokes up and down his length. He closed his eyes, a look of pure rapture on his face. A look she had put there.
Braver now, Kathryn swiped her thumb across the tip of his cock. He growled. A shiver rippled through her body, and her vision glazed. The power she had over him was intoxicating. Adjusting her hand, she slowed her strokes, experimenting, taking him from the tip to the base. He groaned, his breathing erratic. She changed her pace again, faster this time, and his hands dipped beneath the water, gripping her hips. She pressed against him, her core flush to his muscular thigh.
“Kathryn.” He groaned again, and she relished his guttural response.
Strong hands lifted her by the waist and her hands slipped free of him. He held her against his chest for a moment, holding her above him, and her breath caught in anticipation. Then, ever so slowly, he lowered her onto his cock.
The sensation of being filled overwhelmed any residual tenderness. Kathryn flung her hands around his neck. It was all-encompassing, negating reason and restraint. Spying on those boys by the pond all those years ago, watching them frolic naked, envious of the girls they brought with them, girls they kissed, she had pictured what it would be like to be intimate with a man. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this.
“Ride me, ma belle renarde. Take your pleasure.”
And she did, sliding up and down his length, seeking her release. His hips bucked in time with hers, water sloshing onto the floor, but she spared it not a thought. All she had room for was Aimon. Her world narrowed down to him, to his strong hands, his muscular body and his thick cock deep inside her. His hand slipped between them, swiping against her nub, and her climax hit her with the force of an autumn storm. Her body clenched around him, and she cried out, unable to contain the pleasure rippling through her. With a grip like steel, he held her in place, slamming up into her, prolonging her bliss. She screamed again, her head dropping back, her body quivering with the onslaught. His body stiffened, and he thrust one last time, deep, as though reaching for her womb, and he roared out his release.
Breathless, she collapsed against his chest, and he held her close, nuzzling her neck, their wet bodies clinging to each other until the last tingles of their orgasms had faded away.
“Is it always like this?” she mumbled into his neck, her body pleasantly limp.
Aimon palmed the back of her head, stroking her hair. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his chest still heaving. “No.”
“Is it a werewolf thing?”
He took a moment to respond. “Perhaps.”
Kathryn closed her eyes and let herself float away on the residual euphoria, sated, content, cocooned in Aimon’s arms.
The cooling of the water roused them, and Aimon helped her from the tub, toweling her down with infinite tenderness. He led her to the bed, tucking her in against his warm body, and pulled the covers over them both.
As Kathryn drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Aimon’s arms, her heart beat a troubled rhythm. She had given more than her body to Aimon this night. There was every chance she was losing her heart to her angelic warrior, but would he lose his to her, too?
As dawn approached, Aimon slipped from the bed, tucking the covers beneath a still sleeping Kathryn. Though Anne would suspect where he had spent the night, he did not wish for it to become common knowledge. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her, her crowning glory of auburn locks spread across the pale linens. Ma belle renarde he had called her, but was she truly his? Never had he felt such a connection with a woman before, nor experienced such protectiveness, such need to be with her, close to her and touching her, as he did with Kathryn. What they had done would make it even more difficult when she chose another.
The ache in his heart pounded in sync with the throb in his groin. He should not have taken her, not in the forest, not ever, but he could not bring himself to regret it. And he could not bring himself to never let it happen again. He would take whatever stolen moments he could, and treasure them, for they would keep him company in the empty years ahead that were sure to come.
He slipped from the room, careful not to wake her, and went in search of fresh clothes. It was time to introduce her to her alpha. Time to make her one of the pack. He gritted his teeth. Gaharet would scent him on Kathryn in an instant, and he would take whatever recriminations Gaharet leveled at him. He deserved every one. He had failed as a teacher and failed in his duty, for he had been unable to keep her safe from himself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kathryn’s eyes fluttered open to a cold, bare space beside her. She looked around the room. It was empty, save for her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. After the intimacy they had shared, he had left her? When had he retreated from her bedchamber? In the early hours of the morn, or the moment she had fallen asleep? Her throat tightened, and she tucked the covers up under her chin. Her bottom lip trembled. How naïve of her to assume one night in each other’s arms would mean as much to him as it did to her.
The door swung open, and Anne bustled in, a dress slung over her arm. “Up and out of bed, my dear. You have a big day ahead of you.”
Kathryn rolled herself into a ball and buried herself in the bedcovers. How could she face Aimon if last night had been nothing more than the result of moonlit madness? How could she spend another day with him pretending last night had not happened, had not changed everything? Had not meant everything? For her, at least.
“Now do not be like that, child. A little more excitement on your behalf is warranted, I should think,” said Anne. “Aimon tells me you are going riding today.”
Kathryn’s heart stuttered. He was taking her riding? Was that why he had left? To prepare for the day?
