Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 38
Atticus closes the distance between us. His wolfish advance makes me tremble as I take in the loose sway of his arms at his side and his slightly hunched back.
He looks as if he is ready to pounce at any moment.
“Whatever it takes?” he rumbles, stopping before me.
My eyes widen, and I swallow down my nerves. “Yes.”
His thick arm wraps around my waist and tugs me forward. I place a hand tentatively on his chest and inhale rather sharply. His scent surrounds me. The familiar aroma of lush greenery along with musky notes of oakmoss and amber is a welcome assault on my senses. I swallow thickly once more as Atticus’s fingers brush the underside of my chin and bring our eyes into contact.
“Ever since the night you were first attacked, all I’ve been able to think about is our soulmark. How much of this would have ever come to pass if we were together as we were meant to be? I would have felt your guilt and indecision. I would have been keen to all of your worries and doubts.” Atticus takes a deep breath, his eyes boring down into mine. “I can’t say how long it will take you to earn back the pack’s trust, but I know exactly what I need from you to start.”
My mouth runs dry at the serious tilt of his brow and firm line of his jaw. His smoldering gaze, on the other hand, entices my breathless reply.
“You want to complete the soulmark.”
Atticus nods firmly.
“Even though we can’t—”
“I dreamed of a future with you, Winter,” Atticus says. His words ending the conversation at hand.
Tears storm past my defenses, and I duck my head to bat them away. A warm hand cups my jaw and tilts my chin up. When my weak attempt to turn away is blocked, Atticus sighs and ducks his head until our foreheads are almost touching.
“You should have told me,” he scolds. His voice is hard but filled to the brim with emotion.
I nod as tears continue to slip down my cheeks.
The arm around my waist tightens.
“Doing this won’t make everything right,” Atticus says, his tone still hard and low. “It’s going to take a lot of work to find a place where we can stand on equal footing again. But if we’re both willing to try, and you consent to the binding, it will be a step in the right direction.”
“I do.” A shaky breath brushes past my lips as my nerves coalesce. I clear my throat gently, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “I consent.”
Atticus's lips take mine in a bruising kiss. Pent-up emotion and energy surge between us and draw us impossibly closer.
The hand at my chin makes a home at the base of my neck. It drags my head this way and a little ways that until the angle is just right for his plunder. A guttural moan rocks through me as I wrap both arms around his neck and pull myself onto the tips of my toes. His approval comes in nips and long strokes of his tongue against mine. All the while, his other hand roams my hips to my backside.
It matters not that there is a perfectly good bed a few feet away from us, for it is the fireplace that Atticus leads us toward. The action leaves the muscles at the junction of my thighs squeezing tight with desire.
It’s a miracle we make it to the floor without either one of us hurting ourselves. As it is, our legs entangle with one another too far, and we go down less than gracefully, our kiss breaking into small gasps. I find myself on top after the act is complete. One leg stuck between his own, and my hands framing either side of his face as he grips my hips.
For a time, we stare into each other's eyes. The shock of our fall gives way to our lust.
The second meeting of our lips is just as urgent as the last, but this time, our hands move with a frenzy over one another. Strong hands slid up my rib cage, taking my sweater with it. I rock back to rip off the offending garment. Desperate to feel hot flesh against my own, even as the fire drenches us in heat nearby.
Shaking hands unclasp my bra, and once I’m finished with the task, I bring them down upon Atticus’s firm chest. Equal in states of undress, Atticus perks up on one elbow to lavish attention to each of my breasts. The intense focus he applies to my nipples leaves me mewling in constant desire, my hips rocking back and forth to rub against his thigh.
Breath hitching, I throw back my head and cup the back of his head to curl my fingers into his hair. Atticus's touch chases away all feelings of doubt and uncertainty. The hot rush he entices leaves little thought in my mind other than more, more, more.
I breathe his name and am forced to arch against him further in pursuit of his nipping, biting, and suckling.
“Please,” I whimper, riding his thigh with little abandon.
A large hand tugs at my thigh, pulling it over to the other side of his hips and reminding me of his own confined arousal. The moan that Atticus releases when I rub against his hard-on leaves me quivering. Stormy blue eyes, with several streaks of gold, stare up at me. Their smoldering regard floods my body like hot lava.
Atticus's hand crawls up my thigh to my hip, then reaches around to my lower back with clear intent.
“Ready?”
The voice that says the word sounds so unlike the Atticus I know—one full of passion and fervor, and dark desire. I take his other hand that rests underneath my breast and maneuver it to my other hip. Atticus half purrs and growls his approval of my acceptance.
Although I know it is coming, the stretch of his fingers solely spanning my lower back leaves me breathless. When the edges of his digits grace either end of my soulmark, I go rigid with the stunning amount of pleasure that accompanies it.
I release a small cry and grind down against his erection to increase the flames that consume us. I shake with the strain to stay above him. Planting my hands back upon his chest, I bend at the waist with a moan, dragging my hips down his hard member and arching my chest as his hand smooths my mark.
Without thought, my hand reaches out to his own. The first graze of my fingertips against his soulmark is electric, no doubt, but the firm press is like grasping onto a live wire.
His hips thrust upward sharply, coaxing a loud moan from me as he states the words long since considered taboo by my pack. Forbidden words, ones that meant certain unhappiness and unfulfillment.
But with Atticus… it feels like coming home.
“Let it be known that thee are found,” comes my ragged whisper, “and my soul awakened. The stars incline us, my love, and so we are sealed.”
What occurs next is blinding. All sensation drowns away only to come back tenfold in what is the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. I whimper at the overwhelming thrill of it all. My fingernails dig in to his soulmark, leaving ragged marks of red as they scrap downward.
Atticus's own hand moves up the column of my spine as he breathes harshly. I meet his triumphant gaze for only a second before I find myself on my back, the air knocked from my lungs.
Nimble fingers make short work of the buttons and zipper of my pants before dipping teasingly along their waistline. My reaction is rather immediate, my hips lift in eager anticipation. Our eyes lock once more as he pulls both pants and thong down over my thighs and calves. His fingers skim the length of my legs slowly until both garments are tossed aside.
His gaze devours every exposed inch of me then. Our previous union had been frenzied and rushed. Both of us too lost to our lust to appreciate the partners giving us pleasure, but at his intense regard, I succumb to the touch of vulnerability at the back of my mind.
I have never been looked at like this before.
As if the man before me can’t believe his luck.
As if I’m his prized possession.
As if he loves me.
Coarse hands run along the outside of my thighs before they slide beneath my knees and spread them apart. I attempt to resist. A blush covers me from cheek to chest as Atticus stares so hungrily at the epitome of my womanhood.
However, that doesn’t stop the wetness growing at my sex or the urge to snap my knees back together.
“No hiding, Winter,” Atticus tells me in a low voice that vibrates across my sensitive flesh. I quiver in acknowledgment, letting out a gasp as he yanks me forward. “Say it again,” he demands.
“I love you.”
Atticus wastes no more time in the pursuit of his wants. His head dives down, and then his lips are on me. Like his kisses before, there is nothing gentle about his approach to my core. His lips suck and tease. His tongue lashes out without hesitation, lapping up the growing moisture between my legs until I writhe from the exquisite torture. My climax is right before me when he retreats.
A sound, the cross between a growl and a groan, crosses my lips at the loss.
Atticus guides my legs around his waist as I whimper with need. His hands hover on either side of my head as he leans over me. The wolf’s hunger is mixed with the man’s. It leaves me stunned momentarily, but a rocking motion from his hips brings me back to reality.
“Again,” he demands.
“I love you.”
His lips steal another drugging kiss from me, far more languid and thorough than the last. I melt at the sensual touch, sighing my delight as his lips work their way across my jaw and down my neck. My chest rises and falls at a shallow pace when his hand searches out my own and places it against his chest. I know without having to see how close it lays to his soulmark.
The scrap of his teeth against my throat elicits a shaking moan from deep inside me.
Without ado, I press my hand upward and cover his soulmark with my palm. Our sharp intake of breath is a testimony to the second blaze of pleasure given to us. I don’t expect the rough thrust of his confined hardness against my exposed sex, but I certainly don’t mind. My back, arched instantaneously from the touch of the soulmark, slams back into the ground at the continued rocking from Atticus.
He groans against my neck, nuzzling the area as pressure begins to build between us.
“And now I lay my mark for all to see. By blood, be one," Atticus says.
I bend my neck in an offering, dying a little inside as his teeth dig harshly into the tender skin. The climax I was denied only minutes before comes to its head. Lightning bolts course through my blood, the electric moment stealing my breath only to give it back in full force as I release a cry loud and uninhibited.
I grind my slick sex against his groin. The acute feeling of pain associated with being left unfilled is driving me mad. I sob when he tugs my hand away, body trembling with the currents of the soulmark's merciless pleasure and heat.
“I need—”
His lips silence me. The kiss is gentler than any other I’ve received from him. Around the place in my heart and soul that belongs to Atticus, something more ties us together. These magical words are slowly but surely tying us irrevocably together.
The moisture at my eyes is wiped away reverently. But the tender scrape of his thumbs against my cheeks only earns more for his efforts.
“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I have for years, Winter.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I hurt the pack and Zoelle,” I whisper back, unable to stop the tears streaming as they stem from a snowball of emotions.
Atticus shushes me, the insistent press of his lips rhythmically moving against my own until I calm. “We’ll get through it together,” he says at last.
My heart catches in my throat as I run my eyes over his face. Atticus's kind, yet hungry eyes stare back at me with equal intensity. It makes my pulse flutter through my veins, and my blood begins to boil again.
Mine. All mine.
“Make love to me,” I plead, searching out his lips and dragging his face to mine.
He concedes. The next few moments are filled with a hasty need to rid Atticus of the remainder of his clothes. His length, hard and ready, bobs proudly at its newfound freedom. I stop my endeavor of aid to stare and reach out a shaky hand to stroke him.
Atticus hisses and stills at the action. Lust-filled eyes stare down at me. With animalistic grace, he positions himself. His tip teases my entrance, but my hold on him tightens at the movement. Atticus releases another hiss.
“Winter,” he growls in warning, but my exploration will not be deterred.
His length is heavy in my grip, and my fingertips cannot reach fully around his girth. I swallow with want, my heart pounding madly in my ear as I slide my hand up and down his erection. Atticus drops his head to my shoulder, his breath coming in strained puffs. A nip of rebuke against my collarbone is all the warning I have before his fingers find their way to my center.
I buck at the gentle contact. My body, still oversensitive from the sealing and marking, trembles at the touch and kindles anew. Without preamble, two fingers slid into my waiting heat. Our appreciation is shared in mixed moans that seem to echo about the room.
When I stare up at him, I’m caught by the beauty of his body. The fire and candlelight dance across his chest and arms, along with dark shadows. I’d admire him further if not for the his fingers curling inside me and stealing my attention. They pump with excruciating patience and draw noises from me I didn’t know I could make.
My grip on his silken shaft weakens as I drown in his intoxicating touch.
“Please, Atticus.”
Blue eyes clash with my slate gray, and his torturous fingers retreat to my hip. I squeeze my legs around his middle, rubbing up against him in yearning.
It takes little from there to achieve our goal.
Like water bursting from a dam, Atticus thrusts into me in one fierce stroke. Already slick with desire, he slides easily inside of me. We still at the union, taking in the sensation we’ve denied ourselves for so long.
My hands find a home on Atticus’s strong shoulders. They clench down as he begins to slowly slid in and out, building a steady rhythm that threatens to steal my breath away.
“Christ,” he murmurs, the sharp line of his jaw in stark relief against the firelight. Sweat glistens on his brow as he clenches his jaw with restraint. “I forgot how tight you are.”
I writhe beneath him, winding my hips in encouragement for faster movement. But Atticus draws it out. His pace remains unwavering and controlled, though his features betray his self-torture.
“Faster,” I pant, hooking one arm around his back and dragging my nails down to his ass.
A hand slips to my calf, where he proceeds to raise said leg and bend it up over his shoulder. I groan and gasp at the maneuver, adjusting and wiggling to accept the deeper reach inside me.
“Oh, God…”
The whimper is all I can muster as he pulls entirely from my molten core then glides back in. Atticus curses and trembles above me. A mix of a groan and whine tears through me in encouragement, and he gradually begins to quicken the pace.
I arch and writhe in delicious agony.
Soon, our panting breaths are our only form of communication. Another fever pitch builds inside of me, daring to leave me in pieces by the time we are through.
As Atticus thrusts turn harder, it becomes difficult to tear my eyes away from his body. Beads of sweat drip down his chest to his toned abdominal muscles that are flexing and stretching. How I long to drag my lips and tongue over each scintillating, marble crevice.
It’s incredible how Atticus is able to read my body. Whenever my teeth find their way into the bruised flesh of my lower lip, I earn deliciously harder thrusts. When my nails dig into his skin, he keeps up his fast pace seconds longer to prolong my pleasure.
His attention makes me feel like a goddess, and I lose myself in what he offers.
Tonight we have ventured past the point of no return. Despite our efforts, there is slim hope we will reverse the curse of the moon or soulmark. But heading into the unknown with Atticus makes the journey less terrifying. Whatever happens—be it the wrath of the Blanc or Wselfwulf pack against us—I will cherish every last experience with Atticus from this moment further.
Careening upward, I crash my lips against his. Sudden dizzying desperation courses through my already feverish nerves. Sensing the change, Atticus settles us into a new arrangement.
Seated and with his back to the fireplace, he moves me to straddle him.
“Closer is better,” he says as he rights me in his lap.
I cross my ankles behind him, breathing harshly and unable to control it. As I snake my arms around his neck, he starts to thrust and grind in our new position. Our new embrace does indeed bring us closer together. Thoroughly intertwined, I relish in his breath darting across my breasts and the way his mouth reaches out to taste my salty flesh.
There is something bold and intimate about our new position. It makes my already sensitive body more responsive to his touch.
I don’t know how much longer I can take it. And Atticus can tell. His hands tighten their grip on my waist as he thrusts in earnest. The ride is rough and exhilarating. His name drops from my lips in a loop.
Whimpers turn into small cries of passion as the seconds pass, Atticus whispering his encouragement crudely into my ear.
“I want your cum on my cock, Winter,” he pants. “I want to feel you come undone. Do you understand?”
I nod weakly, head tilting back as my lashes flutter shut while waves of euphoria overtake me. Atticus snarls his approval. His hands move confidently around my bottom to guide my movements.
I allow my hand to stray to his soulmark. My fingers circle the dark embellishment until he is forced to grab my wrist and stop my teasing. The moment I touch the sacred mark, we fall together.
“I bind myself to you,” he says, his voice husky and low as he spills himself inside of me.
My mouth opens in a silent cry. The final ties of the soulmark wrap so tightly around us I fear I’ll never breathe again. When precious air finally fills my lungs and releases in a startling exclamation, I go limp against Atticus, even as the ecstasy of it all rides hard through my body.
Stars collide in my vision, but it is Atticus's warm and smiling face that enters after it. The brilliance of our union ebbs slowly and retreats in small aftershocks as my hand drifts from his soulmark. It’s minutes later when Atticus is able to move us to the bed. He lays me carefully down and runs his gaze across my body.
