Chapter 62
Lenora
"Harder!" I scream, voice cracking with the kind of need that makes my skin prickle.
Caron is no longer afraid of his own body, and that ans he moves however he wants. Tosses , pins , drags to exactly where he wants .
"If I go any harder, this will be the third bed we’re breaking," he rasps, one fist in my hair, tugging until my spine curves back against his chest. My head falls against his shoulder, my mouth open on a pant, and I swear my knees might give out if he let go.
"Now you know why we do it outdoors," I manage between breaths, smirking even as my pulse hamrs.
His mouth finds my neck, slow kisses that contrast brutally with the way his hips still work into . "Can’t exactly do that here," he murmurs, teeth grazing my skin, "unless we want the front page of every paper in the city."
"Such a sha," I purr, "because I want to feel you for hours. Even with the healing—I want you to take away my ability to walk."
My nails rake over the back of his hand as he squeezes my breast harder, fingers pinching my nipple until I gasp.
"I want to rember you in every step, every breath."
That gets him. Exactly as expected, I rile him up, and he growls—low, feral.
My wolf purrs.
She and I are in agreent, because he pulls out, flips like a goddamn pancake, drags my legs open, and pins there as if daring the world to try and take from him.
And then—he gives exactly what I need.
Not gentle. Not slow. But deep, punishing, claiming strokes that make my back arch and my hands clutch at the sheets until they tear.
What I need is for him to take like this—without hesitation, without rcy—because when Caron lets go, when he stops holding himself back, I feel every ounce of what I an to him.
I look at him through the haze of sensation, my breath catching he’s so handso like this—wild, flushed, jaw tight, eyes locked on as if I’m the only thing that exists.
Thank you, Goddess.
**
He carries to the shower because my legs are jelly—utterly useless. He really did a number on .
This bathroom is easily twice the size of our entire cabin bedroom, with its marble floors, floor-to-ceiling mirror, a tub that could fit a small pack, and a glass-walled shower that looks like it belongs in a luxury magazine. The steam already starts to curl in the air as he walks in with in his arms, his scent surrounding , drowning in him.
He sets down gently, and the mont my feet touch the warm tile, I feel it—his cum sliding thick and hot down my thighs.
I glance down, then lazily trail my fingers to gather it, bringing them to my lips, but his hand shoots out, catching my wrist midair. His eyes narrow.
"Behave." His voice is low, a warning wrapped in amusent.
Such a party pooper.
I stand there like a human-sized doll as Caron moves around , turning the water on until it runs hot, steam curling around us. The mont it hits my skin, I lt—pliable, boneless. I feel like I’m buzzing from the inside out, a deep, liquid heat thrumming through , but all I can do is let him take care of .
He works in slow, deliberate motions, running his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, over my stomach, soaping and rinsing as if I might break. Then he drops to his knees before , the heat of the water slicking both of us, his big hands pressing gently to the inside of my thighs.
"You’re swollen," he murmurs, and starts to clean there.
I pout, watching him work. "Sad. I wanted to leave it in ."
He glances up at with a look that could undo all over again.
"Hmmmnnn..." It’s all I can manage, my voice soft and unfocused.
"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" he asks, standing again and rinsing away the last of the suds.
"Yeah..." I breathe, leaning forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I’ll be fine by morning, unfortunately."
His brow furrows like he’s already making plans to make sure I’m not.
"What are you doing?" he asks as I press my body to his.
"Nothing," I answer, and then gasp as he guides against the warm tile, lifting one leg high around his hip and sliding into in one deep thrust.
It hurts. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted.
**
I lie sprawled on his chest, eyes heavy, drifting toward sleep, his steady heartbeat lulling .
"Tomorrow," Caron murmurs, his hand warm against the small of my back, "Simone will co pick you up and we’ll head to the airport."
My eyes remain half-closed. "Why?"
"We’re leaving the country."
That wakes up instantly. I sit up, pushing against his chest, staring down at him. "What?"
"We’re leaving," he repeats simply—like it’s the most casual thing in the world—his gaze dropping to my chest. His hand starts to wander toward one of my boobs, and I swat it away.
"Pay attention."
He only stretches lazily, one arm behind his head so his bicep flexes, his blue eyes catching the low light, his dark hair falling into them. Then he flashes that boyish, troublemaker smile.
"Don’t distract with your looks. Why are we leaving the country?" I demand.
"I didn’t even do anything," he says in mock offense, capturing my hand in his other one and lacing our fingers together.
"I want to take you sowhere," he says after a beat. "...I guess Ronan can follow too."
"Where?"
He smirks. "Now, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you." He tugs down until my face hovers just above his.
"I don’t know... I’ve never been on a plane." My voice cos out smaller, betraying my nerves.
"It’s okay. I’ll be with you." His thumb strokes the back of my hand. "Just trust and co with tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay," I whisper, and he kisses my nose.
It’s funny—sotis we do the most outrageous, indecent things in bed, but what lts completely are monts like this.
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