"See what you do to me. You are mine, Maerose.” And he wanted to cover her in his essence, to mark her, to claim her with his very soul. He dropped to his knees between her open thighs, his fist plunging up and down on his shaft. He dipped his fingers into her damp channel, opening her so that he could see her luscious hole.

She moaned. The look on her face—fevered, rampant—undid him. His heart leapt, thudding within the wall of his chest. His fist stilled. His whole body went rigid, his seed spurting and splattering over her.

"Yes,” she cried, her body writhing on the grass. “Oh, yes, Bron, cover me. I am yours to use."

He watched as his juice spilled down between her thighs. It ran heavy over her soft hair, thick gluts dripping down into her hole. He breathed deeply and began to stroke his shaft again in readiness, his free hand stroking her entrance open. He swallowed, ragged with need to claim her thoroughly and to the depths of her core. In the distance he heard a howl, the hungry wolf surfacing at the edge of his mind. Sending out a command, he let the creature pass through the veil.

Roughly, he pushed her thighs wider, hauling her legs over his shoulders as he buried his cock deep inside her. She was so hot and gripped him so readily, his body pounded, anxious, agitated. He plunged fast and deep, his groin grinding against hers, slick juices running between them.

Her eyes were narrow slits, dark with passion; teeth clenched, her breath panting. The rich red-brown of her hair looked like dark flames licking across the ground around her, while her hands clutched handfuls of grass. She looked like an incarnation of the earth goddess herself, ripe and fecund. He had brought her to this, this understanding of her true nature and her destiny. And she was so ready for it. Power plumed within her, anchoring them together. He

felt it multiply and grow strong, pulsing around them as far as they might see, as high as the sky itself.

"Bron,” she cried, her head rolling from side to side as she climbed toward the moment of her release. He rutted at her fiercely, his need to bed within her taking him over. She blossomed, the heat inside growing denser, her body clutching his.

A sob escaped her throat, and as she calmed, she clung to him. He was about to release his seed when she gripped him tighter, gasping. “Bron, a wolf."

"Use your power,” he urged, his rhythm growing more desperate, the clutch of her body on his relentless in her combined pleasure and concern. “Keep him at bay by meeting his eye, showing him your brave soul."

He heard her curse at him and then he lost his grip, he thrust inside her one last time, pouring himself into her. Light flared in his mind, radiating power that leapt high and raced over the surface of the skies above them.

He struggled to surface quickly. Panting, he loomed over her, observing her. She was focused part on the power that soared around them and charged across the skies, part on the distance, where she made cautious eye contact with the wolf. Around her a halo of sated pleasure burned; she had woven it into the very atmosphere surrounding them. Her kindling powers grew by the moment. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the creature had sat down and was eyeing them warily, his demeanor respectful.

"You see, we were vulnerable but he sensed your inner power. I wanted you to know that you can negotiate with the animal world, as we must try to negotiate with the spirit world."

She frowned at him.

"A lesson learned?” he added, encouragingly.

She gave a soft laugh. “It is you that he must be afraid of, not me."

He shook his head. “No, it is there in you. When I spill my seed, I am blind to the world, my love, lost to it. It was your faith and your belief that carried us both at that vulnerable moment. The wolf lingers now, but you have shown him your strength, your brave heart. He is a scout, hungry, but he has respected the division between his path and ours."

He moved gently against her, savoring her succulent depths for as long as he could. She looked up at him, silently assessing his words, an arched eyebrow expressing mock disapproval of his action. “You used the poor beast to teach me that?"

"Aye, but he is not suffering, is he."

"No, but...” She rolled her eyes.

He laughed and, as his cock grew limp, he eased away. “I suppose I should go and reward the creature after toying with him so.” He smiled. “Otherwise the entire pack will be upon us."

She sat up and grabbed him by his shirt, drawing him toward her. “And what of me, Bron—will you reward me after toying with me so?” Her expression was mischievous, suggestive.

Pleasure burned in him. He liked the way that sounded. “You are turning out to be a very demanding handmaiden,” he teased back, reminding her of her earlier vow.

"And?"

"And it's just as well that I like that quality in a handmaiden."

Hearing her soft, delighted chuckle made his chest fill with pleasure and his pride deepen. Truly, Egremont and Felicita had been right, his destiny was to love this woman.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

When he returned from offering the wolf some meat as recompense, sending him on his way before the pack arrived, she was sitting by the fire, sewing.

"I cannot face the world in my torn dress.” She smiled and gestured at him with the fabric in her hand. “I found your thread and needle, and I am fashioning a skirt from what is left of the dress. If you will let me keep your shirt, I will be decent."

Tags: Saskia Walker Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net