A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,66
relationship, he disappears.”
“You’re mine, Elaine, and I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted her towel-clad body into his arms and kissed her forehead as she sighed, then carried her to the guest bed, though he wanted to claim her on his own mattress.
Chapter 16
Something felt off for Cearnach about mating with her here in the guest chamber. Like she was still just a guest, when he wanted her in his room, his bed, his.
But he didn’t want to carry her across the hall to his chamber and risk running into anyone, either. He reminded himself he’d mate with her there later, many times over, to make it right.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Elaine asked as she observed him. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
He heard the pain in her words, that maybe she believed he was already thinking of abandoning the idea and didn’t want to prolong the inevitable.
He smiled and was sure that he looked as wolfishly predatory as he felt. “We’re not delaying this.” He peeled off her towel and tossed it to the floor. Then he slowly climbed over her, deliberately rubbing his chest and arousal and legs over her soft, bare skin, leaving his scent on her, claiming her in a not-so-subtle wolf way.
She knew exactly what he was doing, and her smile showed just what it meant to her as he lay next to her on his side. His gaze locked on hers as his fingers teased one of her rigid nipples, circling it and touching it. She lifted her fingers to caress his chest.
His skin sizzled everywhere she trailed her fingers, making his erection jump with need.
Unable to enjoy just the feel and look of her sweet body, he leaned in to kiss her, showing her every ounce of passion he possessed—the primal need and craving to make her his mate before one more male looked at her as though she was available.
He pressed his tongue into her mouth, leaning his body against hers, parting her legs with one knee, and straddling her, his arousal thick and rigid. He wanted more than anything to lay claim to her. Now. Forever.
He slid his fingers into her soft, wet heat, feeling the warm slickness from her climax. She moaned, bucking against him, her body arching as if she was pushing him to finish this.
His blood ran hot as every muscle flexed with need. His mouth caressed her collarbone. She shivered as he touched her, explored her, and enjoyed her soft skin, her exquisite fragrance tantalizing him.
His mouth captured hers. Their tongues twisted and danced together as if mating of their own accord. He ran his fingers through her hair, gripping the silky, damp locks. Liquid fire rushed through his veins, his cock straining against her thigh, his body rubbing against the muscle, her hips rising, forcing him to press harder against her.
He inserted two fingers into her tight sheath. Tight like a virgin, he thought to himself. She would have had encounters with human males, and of course she was mated to that slug of a bastard centuries ago, but when was the last time she’d been with a man? She felt too tight for it to have been recently. He was glad to know it. She was his. No one else’s.
He licked her taut nipple, taking it in his mouth, tugging gently with his lips. She moaned and cupped his head against her breast, writhing beneath him, her pelvis lifting against his throbbing erection. He kissed her across her breast, the valley between, and her right breast until he reached the other nipple, pushing her thighs open for him before pressing his erection against her hot, wet core. Not entering yet. Teasing. Wanting her to come when he did.
“Oh, Cearnach,” she moaned, as he slid two fingers into her again, then pushed as deep as he could go.
She spread her legs farther apart for him, and he declared against her mouth in Gaelic, “You are mine.”
“As you are mine,” she whispered back.
He lifted his head and stared at her. Had she known Gaelic all along? Had she known what Vardon had called her?
Swearing in Gaelic, Cearnach gazed into her molten eyes. She lifted her hands and pulled his face back to hers, kissing him thoroughly, their tongues dueling as if in a medieval fight, making him forget all else but her.
It was time. Time to make her his. He pushed the broad head of his penis into her, slowly at first until he was fully