[WARNING! Mature Content ahead!]
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Lyander took a step back.
Another long pause.
Another inspection.
His head tilted ever so slightly, and he released a low rumble of satisfaction, the sound vibrating through the air like a purr of approval.
Then he crouched low.
The muscles in his shoulders rippled as he descended, his movents slow and deliberate. He stalked forward on all fours, his body gliding across the earth like a predator in complete command of his territory. The mont was electric.
When he reached her, his front paws landed firmly on either side of her hips, bracketing her in.
And then his head lowered . . . directly over her sex.
Liora froze—every part of her went still, every nerve sparking to life beneath his gaze. His breath ghosted over her skin, hot and primal, and her body reacted instantly, her thighs twitching, her lips parting in a soft gasp.
Then she saw it.
His eyes—those burning ember orbs—narrowed, their intensity shifting into sothing darker. Sothing playful. Wicked.
His pupils dilated with sudden hunger, and the corner of his mouth curled—if a wolf could smirk, it was that.
Liora inhaled sharply.
Her heart pounded against her ribs like it might escape her chest. Her entire body was trembling beneath him, caught in a perfect mix of fear and thrill, anticipation and aching, primal need.
He hadn’t even touched her yet.
But she was already unraveling.
Given the intensity of his stare, Liora was certain he didn’t need any encouragent. But the hunger in his eyes made her breath hitch all the sa.
Without a sound, Lyander’s wolf lowered his head. His nose dipped between her thighs, rubbing slowly along her swollen folds. He inhaled deeply, dragging in her scent as he sared her arousal across the bridge of his snout. The intimacy of it stole her breath.
"Lyander!" she gasped, her voice trembling with surprise and need.
He growled low in response—a deep, vibrating sound of pleasure. Her voice, her moan, had pleased him. Sohow, she knew it wouldn’t be the last ti she cried out his na.
He stared down at her with feral reverence, his possessiveness practically radiating off him. His voice was low, thick with claim. "Mine."
"Yours," she whispered back, her agreent coming as naturally as breathing.
His gaze flicked up to et hers, and for a mont, everything else disappeared. What she saw in his eyes took her breath away—not just lust, but sothing deeper. There was a raw, protective love burning behind those ember irises. It left her trembling.
Still holding her gaze, he lowered his head again.
Then his tongue erged—slow and deliberate—dragging a warm, wet stroke from her opening all the way up to her clit.
Liora’s eyes rolled back, her spine arching from the blanket in a wave of ecstasy. A soft, primal moan left her lips as pleasure lanced through her.
He did it again. Another long, purposeful lick, this ti even slower. His tongue was both rough and soft, textured like velvet edged with fire. Every motion ignited nerve endings she didn’t even know she had. Liora shuddered as his tongue flicked along her folds, parting them gently, tasting her on both sides with focused reverence.
She’d never experienced anything like this. Being worshiped like this—by him—was overwhelming. Each lick was asured, sensual, full of intention. He was tasting her like he ant to morize her.
Her hips began to move without her permission, rising and falling in rhythm with his strokes. She rocked against him, chasing the friction he gave and the ecstasy he withheld. Heat built low in her belly, intensifying with every pass of his tongue.
Sweat ford at her brow, a soft sheen glistening under the firelight. She wanted more—needed it. And the damned wolf knew it.
He was teasing her, deliberately holding back, dragging out her desperation. He pushed his tongue inside her entrance just a little—just enough to make her moan and squirm—but never deep enough to give her the relief she craved.
It was maddening.
She writhed beneath him, almost violently, her body twisting and turning as waves of unbearable pleasure rolled through her. He growled again, this ti with satisfaction and dominance.
She felt one of his large paws press against her lower belly, trying to keep her in place.
It wasn’t enough.
Still, she squird, wild and untad under the assault of pleasure. She couldn’t help it—she was unraveling, inch by inch. Her entire body was a storm of need.
Lyander’s rumble deepened into sothing more primal, sothing thrilled by the challenge. He adjusted his hold, dragging his other paw into play. Now both paws gripped her hips firmly, anchoring her to the ground. There was no escape. No retreat.
She let out a frustrated groan, struggling against his hold. That only made him more amused.
She was completely at his rcy—and he was reveling in it.
Desperate for more, driven by an instinct that had taken over every logical thought, Liora wrapped her legs around his shoulders, locking her ankles behind his neck.
She tried to force his face closer, to grind against his mouth, anything to increase the pressure and push herself over the edge.
But the truth was . . . she didn’t even know exactly what she wanted. Her entire body was crying out for release, for completion—but nothing was enough.
Until he growled.
Loud. Sharp. Commanding.
The sound startled her.
Her eyes flew open, and in that mont of clarity, she realized—her fingers had gripped the thick fur of his neck so tightly that her nails had broken the skin. His claws had unsheathed in response, instinctively. Blood beaded where her nails had dug in.
But that pain seed to ignite him.
Without warning, Lyander thrust his tongue deep inside her, burying it with a force and hunger that shattered the last of her composure.
Liora cried out, her voice rising into the night. "Yes . . . more, more!"
She was gone. Lost to the pleasure. To him.
To the wildness they shared.
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