Chapter 37
(Lenora POV)
Finally.
Fucking finally.
Do you know how many tis I had to "accidentally" flash this man? How many tis I bent over just right? How many thigh brushes, how many strategic wardrobe changes, how many near wardrobe malfunctions I staged today alone? I was seconds from lighting my clothes on fire and walking past him naked with "WILLING" tattooed on my forehead.
But now?
Now he’s kissing like the world’s ending. Like the leash he’s been gripping so tightly finally snapped—and he doesn’t even care where it landed.
His mouth crashes onto mine, hard and hungry, and I lt like wax in his hands. My fingers fist in his shirt, dragging him closer as he groans into my mouth. He shifts us, flipping beneath him with a low growl, the soft blanket beneath grounding us against the earth.
The grass around the edges is cool, tickling my skin, but all I feel is him—the heat, the pressure, the weight I’ve been begging for in every silent, sinful glance.
Then—his hand. On my thigh. Bare skin on bare skin.
He grips it.
Firm. Possessive. A little painful.
Yes. Yes. Goddess.Yes.
I gasp, and it fuels sothing in him. Sothing primal. His control is slipping and I want to shove it off the cliff.
Give more.
I kiss him harder, but I’m careful—not to claw, not to crush. I don’t know how much strength he can take yet, and I’m not ruining this with an accidental broken bone or sothing.
He bites my lip, sharp and deliberate, and I moan.
"This was your plan, huh?" he mutters between kisses, voice rough with accusation and lust.
"All that stargazing was bullshit?" Another kiss—hot, consuming.
"You’ve been teasing all damn day."
"Guilty," I whisper, fingers sliding through his hair, pulling him in. "Took you long enough."
He growls into my mouth, his hands tightening on my thighs, and suddenly the chill of the night is gone, swallowed by the heat between us. The trees above sway gently. Crickets chirp in the distance. Sowhere, a wolf howls—soft and far away, like the forest is watching and approving.
He sits up, tugging off his shirt like it offended him.
I follow suit, slipping out of my dress with trembling fingers. It lands silently in the grass, forgotten. The air brushes my skin like a kiss, but I only shiver when his eyes rake down my body like I’m sothing sacred and sinful all at once.
"Fuck ," he says, like it’s a plea. Like it’s all he can think of.
"I’m trying," I murmur, smirking.
His mouth returns to mine, then begins a journey—neck, collarbone, chest. Each kiss is hot and ssy and worshipful. He groans as he palms my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until I whimper beneath him.
Then he pinches my nipples, hard enough to make my hips lift involuntarily. I moan, loud and unashad, let the whole bloody pack hear .
He groans again, low in his chest, the sound vibrating against my skin.
"Damn you, Lenora," he mutters, and it’s not frustration—it’s surrender.
And I know—I know—the bond between us is tightening like a snare. I feel it. I feel him more than ever. Like the trees are listening. Like the earth beneath us is holding its breath.
"I don’t know where to start," he whispers, eyes roaming across .
"Then start everywhere," I say, voice ragged.
He laughs—rough, disbelieving—and slides down the blanket, nestling between my legs. The night air grazes my skin, fireflies blink in the distance, and my pulse thunders in my ears.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He snaps my underwear off like it was paper and tosses it aside.
His hands grip the insides of my thighs and force them wider with quiet authority, holding open like I’m the only al he’s had in weeks.
A beat later, his mouth is on .
And goddess.
His tongue strokes through my folds, slow and reverent at first, then hungrier. Each pass is wetter, deeper, greedier. I let out a gasp and my hips twitch up, chasing his mouth. He moans low—he likes it. He likes the ss he’s making of .
"Caron—" I manage, but then he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks.
I choke on my own moan. The stars overhead blur. My thighs tremble.
He doesn’t stop. He’s relentless. His tongue circles, flicks, presses—all with the expertise of soone who knows exactly how to unravel a woman. I hate the flash of jealousy I feel—how many won has he done this to?—but then he groans, deep and raw, and fucks with his tongue like he’s trying to drink my soul.
"Never mind," I pant, gripping his hair. "Thank you to the won who ca before ."
He chuckles into . Cocky bastard.
I feel him shift, one hand sliding up to my chest. He palms one of my breasts, squeezing and kneading while his tongue keeps working open. When he gently pinches my nipple in ti with a rough suck to my clit, my whole body arches. I’m unraveling, wet and shaking, every nerve lit up.
"Caron—Caron please—"
He hums against in answer, and I feel the vibration straight through my core. He sucks harder, lips sealing around , tongue relentless.
The sounds are obscene, it’s too much but not enough.
And I break.
My orgasm crashes into like lightning, ripping through every nerve. I scream, shaless, twisting in his grip as he keeps going, tongue working through it, wringing out every last wave of pleasure until I collapse, twitching and breathless.
He finally pulls back, face slick, expression unreadable.
Then—
"On your knees," he says, voice deeper, different.
And I know. I know that wasn’t just Caron. That was his wolf, too. The command vibrates through .
"Yes, alpha," I whisper, trembling—not with fear, but with need.I don’t think he’s realized it yet that wasn’t just Caron talking it was his wolf too, judging by how my wolf side is reacting.
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