I gazed up at the darkening sky.
“Didn’t you say it was going to be a blood moon tonight?” I asked.
“Yes,” he nodded, opening the door for me, “how about we go get dinner?” he asked me.
“Okay,” I nodded looking up to him with pleading eyes, craving his lips. The lovely pressure that was made against mine.
“Well, would you look at that?” He smiled, immediately understanding what I wanted.
He wrapped his arm around my back, pulling me against him.
“Do you want anything, specifically?” he purred softly.
It took everything in me to not jump on him. All I wanted was contact.
“Of course,” I told him, batting my eyelashes.
“Then ask me, dear,” he leaned into my face, hovering over my lips. “It’s not like I’ll say no.”
“What if I don’t?” I asked but before he could say anything to me, I closed the distance between us, putting my lips against his warm ones.
I felt him smile against me as he slipped his tongue in my mouth. I brought my hand up to cup his cheek as I met the passion he was moving his tongue with. My chest felt so light, relieved at the contact we were making.
My other hand left his cheek to go up to his scalp, softly tugging at his roots. A throaty sound left his lips, right against mine.
It turned me on, my feelings and every inappropriate thought I was thinking traveled right through our bond, impacting him. His grip tightened and he told himself: ’let her go,’ and it hurt me enough that I pulled away, looking up at him, confused but mainly- upset.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, removing my hands from his body.
“What-” he paused, registering I heard his thoughts and realized why I was upset as I had every right to be, “No, Ines, it wasn’t like that, I didn’t mean it like that.”
My brows met, “How did you mean it?”
What other way could that be taken? It was rude.
“To step away before I bent you over and fucked you in front of everyone,” he bluntly told me, “but, I’m a gentleman and thought you wouldn’t like that.”
My ears grew warm at his language as my lips parted in shock.
“Um, sorry,” I ran a hand through my hair, “I did not mean to assume.”
“No, no, it’s my bad, I shouldn’t stress you,” he cupped my face, running his thumbs over my cheeks, “let’s get something to eat,” he pecked my lips.
“Okay,” I nodded, grabbing his hand.
We ate dinner alone together before we went up to our room, carrying on our conversation.
“Well, no, I’m saying that it’s frustrating because I’m smart and everything but when I speak in English, I feel dumb because I have to translate,” I explained the best I could as he opened the door.
“You’re not dumb,” he frowned at me.
“Well, ouais, but I just feel like it, but only in English. I feel really smart in French because I don’t have to translate my words,” I simplified.
“Oh,” he nodded, “I believe there was this theory that speaking in another language changes your cognitive process, but I didn’t read much on it,” he shrugged.
I laughed lightly, looking over to the window that displayed the vast California woods. It was so gorgeous.
Nighttime had fallen and a beautiful red hue was cast over the trees, giving minimal light but maximal lure and comfort.
“Come here,” Marcus called me, lust dripping from his tone, “I like this top on you,” he brushed his hands over my shoulders before dipping his head in the area. My skin got all warm at his contact, sparks trailing from his tantalizing fingers.
“You smell so amazing,” he purred, running his tongue over my skin.
A heavy breath left my lips as I reached out to grab something. The only thing my hands found with my eyes closed was his waistband.
“Mon amour,” I breathed, feeling buzzed with affection.
He growled against my skin, pulling up to gaze at me.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispered to me, looking me deep in the eyes.
He was so attractive. His eyelashes were long and voluminous, his eyebrows were flawless, his lips were so kissable- he was just utterly amazing. And so built…
I wanted to touch him, twenty-four-seven. Feel his skin under my palms.
“You’re so flattering,” I giggled as he took my hand leading us to his bedded area.
“I’m just an honest man,” he grinned at me as he closed the door.
“You’re an attractive man,” I ran my hand over the front of his shirt, spiking his arousal. It made my stomach tug from how strong his lust was in him.
Well, typical male wolf.
“Tell me about it, Ines,” he sat down on the edge of his bed and I wasted no time straddling his lap.
“I can show you,” I said as I wrapped my arm around his neck for support, leaning down in between the area to place wet kisses on his skin as my other hand went to the top buttons on his shirt, undoing them.
His breathing became so ragged from the mere kisses on his neck and I couldn’t suppress the laugh that left my lips.
Marcus didn’t like that.
In a fraction of a second, he gripped my waist, flipping us over, my hair bouncing off the mattress from the impact.
“You think this is funny?” he growled, pinning my hands over my head, his eyes holding nothing but lust as his gaze pierced through mine, although a small flick of anger was there.
I hurt his ego. Egos were a big thing for wolves, especially male wolves. Females were better at handling their emotions, we kept our pride in check. Marcus was a clear example of how they handled their emotions.
I almost annihilated his ego from a small laugh.
And, not to mention, Marcus seemed to have a loose hold on his emotions. His anger was triggered by something as light as a feather.
It was surprising, yet, amusing to me. I mean, it’s not like he’d hurt me. He was just triggered and needed to comfort his ego.
“Maybe,” I admitted, looking at his lips before looking back at his eyes.
His eyes grew and so did something else at my teasing actions. He brought his free hand down to grab my chest while keeping my hands pinned down. An uncontrolled, desperate moan left my lips from how he was manhandling me.
“Were you trying to undress me?” he demanded although he had no problem with that idea. He just wanted to hear it.
In his mind, he loved that I was willing, that I had the confidence to do it myself. It turned him on all the more, the fact that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me.
“Of course,” I nodded, trying to arch my back for more contact.
His grin widened.
“What if I removed this?” He grabbed the fabric of my top in his hand, hinting that he was going to tear it off.
“Do not ruin my shirt,” I warned him, seriously, “take it off properly.”
He tilted his head, a sparkle in his eye, wanting to push some of my buttons.
“No?” He repeated, extending his claws, ready to tear off my shirt to fondle me.
“Marcus, seriously, do not,” I firmly said.
The amusement in him was strong, almost as strong as his arousal which was resting on my stomach, pushing against his pants.
In less than a second, he hooked his claw on the fabric, causing it to practically disintegrate against my skin, leaving my chest bare to his eyes; I had no problem with that, I was pissed about the fact that he completely destroyed one of my favorite tops when I told him, not once, but twice to leave it alone.
“Marcus!” I yelled but he was too busy ogling my boobs to pay attention to me.
He was like a toddler in a candy store for the first time, his pupils were so dilated, I couldn’t even see his iris, and his lips were parted as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to speak or kiss every part of my body.
Slowly, he blinked before moving his head down to lick a trail through the valley of my breasts. Every negative thought I had of him completely evaporated the moment his wet, warm tongue met my skin. His lips latched onto my skin right under my collar bone, sucking on my skin with such pressure it was bound to leave a hickey.
My eyes fluttered closed and the urge to run my hands through his hair took over me but when I went to move my hands, they stopped because Marcus was holding them down, keeping me immobile.
“Marcus,” I moaned, complaining that I couldn’t touch him.
He pulled up, looking at me from his position.
I tugged on my hands and he immediately removed his, only for my hands to fly to his shirt to take it off. I wanted skin on skin contact and I hated that his shirt was in the way. Except, unlike him, I didn’t want to ruin his clothes because he probably liked his shirt.
I know I did.
“Aren’t you eager?” Marcus laughed to himself, sitting up so I had more room.
“Do you have a problem with it?” I questioned, my eyes glued to his chest, too fascinated with the sight to fully remove his shirt.
He smiled down at me, happy to see my reaction. “Not at all, Nes,” he admitted, pulling off his belt before he grabbed the waistband of my pants slowly and teasingly running them down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my cheeky underwear.
“Mhm, now, what should I do with this?” Marcus asked himself, rhetorically, as if there weren’t a hundred filthy thoughts running amuck in his mind.
“Should I start with these cute fucking things?” he growled, grabbing onto my chest, “or with this delightful mouth,” he continued on as licked a trail from my nipple up to my chin before latching onto my lips.
He was driving me crazy. I wanted contact and he was teasing me. Every action was setting my body on fire, my heart was racing. And the way he kissed me made me frustrated.
I wanted a deep, passionate kiss but I was completely robbed of that as he just snatched them from me to run down my toned abdomen right to the edge of my low-rise panties.
“Or maybe, I should see what this covers? Do you like that idea, Nes?” He asked me, his voice deep making my body all tingly.
“Maybe,” I breathed, so unbelievably hot and wanting nothing more for him to just touch me in every way imaginable.
“Well, don’t mind if I do,” he kissed the inside of my right thigh as he grabbed the side of my pants, tearing them off.
I was too heated to get pissy about him ruining more of my clothes. The moment they were gone, I closed my legs together.
Marcus. Did. Not. Like that. The idea that I was denying him of what was undoubtedly rightfully his.
“Spread your legs,” he demanded.
“And if I don’t?” I led him on although all I wanted to do was spread my legs so he could fix the throbbing sensation in between them. I was dishing back the same teasing behaviors that he displayed for me moments ago.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Like an animal, he wasted not a single second pushing back my legs and shoving his face between my thighs. I threw my head back in pure pleasure once his tongue graced my throbbing area, invoking a deep throaty sound that was trapped in me.
I could barely wrap my head around how quickly he shoved his tongue on me, covering my area in absolute pleasure, but then, he brought his hand down, putting his two fine middle fingers right into my heated cunt.
“Oh, mon Dieux!” I gasped as my hand fisted his bedsheets, muttering numerous curses under my breath in French as he finger fucked the ever-loving existence out of me.
He gazed up at me, holding my eye contact as I came right on his fingers.
I felt so calm right at that moment like I had accomplished everything I needed in my life and never needed anything besides this: his utter love and affection.
As he pulled up from me with a gorgeous grin plastered on his face, I couldn’t hold back my infatuated gaze.
“Such a pretty girl,” he cupped my cheek, “my pretty little mate,” he pecked my lips as he removed his boxers.
He took a hold of my hips pulling me over his lap with his bulging member that he positioned under me. I gripped onto his shoulders, still hooked on the sensation that ripped through my body from his fingers seconds ago.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I nodded, touched that he asked instead of just porking me like the others I’ve been with, not that I minded; I just loved the fact that he made it feel like he wanted me to do it.
And, sadly enough, that thought transmitted right to him, reminding him of one thing he couldn’t fucking stand: the reminder that some other man fucked what was so rightfully his.
Just as the rage hit me through our bond, I grabbed his face, pulling his whole focus to me.
“No, no, no, Marcus, no, take a breath, okay?” I pleaded, rubbing the pads of my thumbs in small circles against his face.
“You’re mine,” he growled out to which I instantly nodded.
“Of course,” I confirmed, “over and over.”
“Again and again,” he nodded as I felt him calm down.
I couldn’t help but thank the gods. I wasn’t sure if I could deal with a possessive, angry alpha mate that had me naked.
“Um, do you have a condom?” I asked him, feeling a little bit awkward but I also didn’t want to get pregnant immediately.
Not that I didn’t want pups, just not right away. I liked the idea, but I also liked having safe sex without consequences because we could do it over and over again.
“Why?” his brows met, “Do you not want to bear my children?” He took it the wrong way, undeniably offended.
It was completely understandable as I would be offended in his shoes as this was my mate, solely created for me and vice versa. Why wouldn’t I want to be the parent to their pups?
But he didn’t know where I was coming from.
“No, Marcus, I do, of course, but not right away,” I assured, “at one point, I would love to have your pups but not right away,” I explained, “enjoy the honeymoon stage first,” I smiled softly.
“Oh, okay, I’m sorry,” he kissed my cheek before he leaned over to his nightstand, pulling it open and grabbing out a condom.
Once he pulled it down, I grabbed the tip of his shaft, positioning him right under me before I slowly slid down, feeling the pleasurable feeling of being stretched, although pain accompanied it.
“Fuck,” he groaned as I let out a moan from pure ecstasy.
“Merde!” I gasped, completely sitting down against his base.
Marcus’s hands grabbed my hips, squeezing me. All he wanted to do was pull me back up just so he could slam me down again. I felt every inch of lust that was in his body, and he was huge. There was a lot of lust built up in him. He was itching to completely ruin me, and I had no problem with it.
But, when I felt his hands tighten on my hips, I spoke out:
“No, wait,” I denied, my grip on his shoulders tightening, “you’re big, just wait for a second,” I pleaded.
As good as he felt, he was still bigger than any other guy I slept with and I just needed like one second to recuperate. I mean, sex is fun and I love it, but I like to be comfortable. It makes it more enjoyable.
He gazed at me, an almost intoxicated look in his eyes from the high he was on. I couldn’t blame him. I felt the same way. It felt like I was injected with heroin: times ten.
“Of course, dear,” he growled, trying to distract himself so he didn’t destroy me right then and there, he leaned into my face, planting his lips on mine, suppressing every urge.
In the middle of the kiss, I started to grind, earning a deep growl from him as he wasted no second pulling me up to start bouncing on his dick.
I almost died on the spot. Sparks were all over my body like the fourteenth of July in France. My body was melting against him, my bond doubling while my wolf practically howled in pleasure.
This was amazing. Honestly. I thought sex was fun in general; when it’s with someone you adore and trust, it’s the epitome of trust and it’s practically the afterlife incarnated.
“Oh!” I pushed up against his body as he latched on to my neck, sucking and kissing all over my skin, “Mon amour,” I tilted my head back, giving him more space to claim with his delicious lips.
My body felt like it was on fire. Red hot fire.
“I love your accent,” he ran his hands up my bare back, gripping my hair to keep my head back but it didn’t last long because he flipped us over, my back hitting the mattress as he propped himself up, so he wouldn’t crush me.
“Goddess, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he thrust in me.
That feeling that every woman knew was building up. I felt my chest get warm, He propped his forearms on both sides of my head, bringing his scent closer to me which brought a natural high.
I looked up at him, completely hooked on him.
He was so perfect. So gorgeous. And the best part was that he was mine. Undeniably, undoubtedly, rightfully mine. A hundred ten percent.
“Marcus,” I arched my back in pleasure, feeling my chest meet his warm one, “s’il te plaît- s’il te-” my moans were cut off with a gasp as I made a fist, feeling my whole body flush as I came.
My eyes shut in pleasure, trying to regain my composure.
Goddess, I didn’t even expect it! How fucking skilled was this man? My body felt like it was on autopilot, I wasn’t even in control, I could just watch as he took me.
“Damn,” he cursed, “you’re so pretty,” he kissed my cheek, not slowing down his pumps at all.
The desire in him to overstimulate me was strong in him. All he wanted was to please me and the fact that I already came twice was heroin to him. He found the sight of me orgasming under him so addictive and he wanted to see it over and over again even if that meant he would completely jade me.
Except, I didn’t fully want that. Yes, I wanted to feel good but he did that just fine. I wanted to be able to do what he did to me. I wanted to feel validated; I wanted to know that I could make my mate feel good.
“Thank you,” I murmured, pressing my hand against his shoulder to flip us over.
Marcus immediately got the hint and gladly turned over, his back on the mattress as I straddled over his member, grinding and fucking on him until he growled out every curse word he could muster as he stilled inside me.
And it was so attractive. Like, Marcus chose not to cuss in front of me, and I never really dwelled on it. I didn’t care. However, hearing him say every curse word in every book as I rode him was so uplifting to me.
It made me happy that I was able to evoke such strong sentiments in him to the point where he tore down that wall to fully express he liked what I was doing. I knew I was doing something right.
“Oh, fuck me, Ines,” he groaned, his eyes still closed.
Even after he came, he continued to stuff me all night until I had to mumble out a wish to stop and to go to bed from how overstimulated I truly was and it was at that moment I felt a sliver of regret from Marcus, as much as he tried to keep it from me. He didn’t like that he left me panting, sweating, eyes half-open, face completely heated and flustered. Because he was concerned that he hurt me, which would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so exhausted. I mean, Marcus, hurting me? It was hilarious. He would never. The man couldn’t even stand to curse in front of me.
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” he questioned, cupping my face.
“Oui, I am okay,” I nodded, still breathless, “are you okay?”
“I am,” he smiled, kissing my forehead, “you did so well, te amo,” he pressed another kiss to my cheek.
I smiled, “je t’aime,” I responded, my whole being feeling like it was struck by Aphrodite herself.
I felt amazing. For the first time in a fucking while.
“Let’s get in the shower, I’ll carry you,” he offered as he slipped his arms under me.
“No,” I frowned, placing my hand on his bare chest, “can we sleep? I don’t want to get up,” I pouted softly.
He smiled at me but still picked me up.
“Of course, dear,” he said as he stood, pulling back his covers before he put me back down, putting them back over me before he walked around.
“Mhm, come here, lover,” he reached over, wrapping his hand around my waist as he pulled my back to his chest, kissing my shoulder.
“Good night, Ines,” he whispered tenderly.
“Bonne nuit, Marcus,” I responded, putting my hand over his on my waist.
There was a moment of silence before I spoke.
“Yes?” he answered.
“May I ask you a question?”
“When you hear my thoughts, does my head voice have an accent?” I asked, completely and honestly curious.
I felt his chest rumble from behind as he laughed to himself.
“Yes, it’s just a tad bit heavier than yours,” he said, “do I?”
I nodded, “Yes, the American accent but your voice just sounds deeper in my head.”
“How much deeper?” I could practically hear the smile in his tone.
“Not a lot, it is not that noticeable, I just pick it up because I’m used to your voice,” I explained.
“Good night,” I added, my eyes closing, feeling content with the light of the blood moon cast over the room from the window.