*WINNER of Best Cliche Breaker for Undiscovered Werewolves*
"Underneath her skin was a wolf; all bite and snarl and nothing else."
The day Saoirse de Rais made her Alpha submit is the day she decided to run.
Traveling from city to city--state to sta...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
This was beyond caring.
This was heat; this was hunger gnawing at his insides, and a burger and coke just wasn't enough to satisfy him. He cared, sure, but the way his fingers curled beneath her heated thighs and lifted her up—the way a growl vibrated up his throat—told him that this was far beyond wanting to be her best friend.
Bo was a simple man with simple needs. He needed his pack safe. He needed a fully stocked fridge.
He needed to kiss every inch of Saoirse's skin.
He pushed her wild black curls aside as pressed his lips to her neck—everything about her intoxicated him, and drove him crazy. Part of him assumed it was the Tribunal and all that pent up energy and testosterone had to go somewhere—but once a guttural moan escaped her lips and settled beside his ear he pushed that aside.
He didn't need logic screwing this up.
With a single knee nestled between her thighs, she was locked between him and his bathroom door. His mouth found hers again, and another rush of heat ran through him as his tongue sought out hers.
Man.
Wolf.
There really was no difference with him—not in this context.
He rushed to pop buttons open, to show shirts aside and his naked skin and hers were tightly pressed together. He nearly tore his bedroom door off the hinges trying to pry it open.
Once askew, he was surprised by the sudden control Saoirse took. She shoved him inside, a smile spreading across her lush lips as the backs of his knees hit his mattress. He fell back, groaning as she quickly straddled him. She buried his face into neck, and a sharp, guttural groan escaped him as her lips pressed to his scar.
Calloused fingertips gripped at her waist, heaving them both to the side until he lay on top of her.
Hungry, horny—he wasn't sure which to decide from at the moment, but he slowly drank in her features. He always admired her features; her skin was soft beneath his rough hands. He wanted to spend an eternity kissing her plush, full lips. He didn't throw around the phrase absolutely beautiful very often but he whole-heartily believed she deserved to be called that.
But it was that wild look in her eyes—that glint in her dark hues that reminded him each and every day that, though she looked beautiful and kind, she was also just as dangerous as he was. At that very moment the hunger in her eyes matched his.
He caught that sense of worry. In a fraction of a second he caught her second guessing everything, and now he can only thinking about kissing that away. As he bent down to do just that she stopped him, pressing her hand to the flat expanse of his naked chest to push him back.
He's never whined before, but he did without shame.
