I hold still, keeping my body tense and tight, crushing down the urgent need to tear and thrash and roar with fire over not claiming my tantalizing mate.
The moment Tabitha's orgasm completes I pull out and pump my fist over my cock, spilling my cum on her belly and thighs.
She pants like she's trying to catch her breath. She appears dazed and delirious from the love-making.
When she’s caught her breath, her brow knits. "Why won't you come inside me? Is it part of the control-issue thing?"
I smear my essence up between her breasts, needing at least some form of branding her as mine. I’m relieved to find it’s not too hot. I smooth my expression. "Perhaps."
"Even that answer is controlling! What is your deal?" She pushes up on her elbows and sends me an accusing look. Of all the things I just did to her–trapping her in a cage, edging her, turning her ass a pretty shade of pink–the thing she’s upset about is me not coming inside her?
I…don’t understand this female.
She falls back on the pillows. “You can’t keep me, Gabriel,” she says stubbornly. “You can’t control everything. You can’t control me.”
I climb onto the bed and turn her to face away from me, so I can spoon her. She’s exhausted, and I need to hold her until she falls asleep. She lets me. Even though her words and tone hold frustration, she doesn’t push me away. Doesn’t fight me.
No, the problem is more nuanced than I imagined.
She seems to want something I’m incapable of giving her.
My passion.
My completion.
My dragon. All of me.
I caress her soft skin with my palm, cupping her breast and brushing my lips across her temple. I won’t spend the night with her–I know I can’t–but I need to try to somehow soothe her irritation.
“I’m sorry, my treasure. But I can’t let you go.”
8
Amber
Winters in Tucson aren't cold, but they're still chilly. Usually, my mate Garrett is the one riding around on his bike in nothing but jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather vest, while I bundle up like I’m about to go skiing. But today, I’m outside on the patio in nothing but yoga pants and a light sweater.
A soft whisper is my only warning that the screen door is opening behind me. For such a huge guy, my boyfriend moves as quietly as a cat. Not that I’d ever vocally compare him to a cat. Not unless we were in a fight, and I was really, really mad.
“Hey babe,” Garrett’s voice rumbles a second before he nuzzles my neck. “Aren't you cold?”
My lips curve, and I reach back to pull him close. He seats himself beside me, propping his boots on the concrete table and plucking my book off my lap with his big tattooed hands.
When I first saw Garrett, he scared the hell out of me. He was huge, covered in tats, a rugged motorcycle man riding on the edge of what could be considered criminal. The last sort of person I would hang out with.
Now my fingers itch to trace his tattoos.
“Nope, not cold. Not anymore.”
Garrett pulls my legs into his lap and closes a hand over one of my socked feet. “When I met you, you were always cold in the winter.”
“I remember.” I would buy him sweaters just to steal them in the winter.
He raises a brow and reads my mind. “You're always stealing my sweatshirts.”
“You love it when I steal your sweatshirts,” I return. Especially when I wear them and nothing else. It's such a change from my typical uptight lawyer self, it turns him on his head.
“There’s a reason I'm not cold this winter.” I lean back and let Garrett rub my feet as I rest my hand on my swelling belly. “This one turned me into an oven.”
“Is that what babies do?”
“That's what he does.”
“You mean she?” he shoots back.
I shake my head. “I think he’s a boy. Mothers always know.” It's really a girl–I’ve had visions of her from the beginning and had an ultrasound yesterday to confirm. I’m going to tell him tonight–but I love it when we argue. It’s the lawyer in me.
Garrett isn’t fooled. “You know I can tell when you lie?”
I just grin at him. He rolls his eyes but keeps massaging my foot with delicious pressure.
“Why are you home so early? Not that I'm complaining.”
His expression turns sober. “I got a request from the Taos pack.”
I sit up as straight as I can with my feet in his lap. “Taos? Who do we know in Taos?”
“Alpha named Rafe Lightfoot. He just found his mate. Another human.” His eyes crinkle.
“Humans do make the best mates,” I tease. “You can't resist us.”
“That’s right.” He squeezes my foot. “But it seems like one of his mate’s good friends is missing. A woman named Tabitha. She's a wanderer, but she said she’d probably check in for Christmas, and she hasn't. She also hasn't made it to her destination.”