Page 21 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“Could you do me a tremendous favor?” I ask.

“Only if you move off that particular spot.”

“No. Now, as you mentioned yourself, there was a great deal of crushing today, to fit into that dress. I would very much appreciate some massaging.”

“Of your breasts.”

“Is that a problem?” Before he can answer, I sigh dramatically. “Fine. I will demonstrate.”

I wedge my hands between his and my breasts and cup them, the way he did. He doesn’t protest. In fact, he stops protesting altogether, not mentioning where I’m sitting as I cradle my breasts and wriggle. When his breath catches sharply, I realize this may end sooner than expected if I do not take charge of the situation.

I ease my hips up, and he gives a low growl of frustration as I lift off him. When he reaches for my waist, I knock a hand with my hip.

“Patience,” I say, echoing him.

I lower myself until I can just barely feel the bulge of his cock against my core. He’s still positioned perfectly, in the opening of my drawers, so there is only the layer of his own drawers between us, a very fine and very thin pair of silk ones that feel like nothing at all, the heat and pulse of him delicious against me.

I turn my attention to my breasts, which his attention has not left. I will admit, I’ve never touched them in this way, and I emulate what he does, cupping the fullness of them from beneath and then sliding my hands up, fingertips grazing the areolas. It feels better when he does it, but this is quite lovely, made all the better by the way he’s staring, transfixed. His hips arch up, and I rise more, keeping him barely touching me, which earns me another low growl.

“Do you really want this over so quickly?” I whisper.

He scowls, but lowers his hips, and I continue, my fingers on my nipples now, massaging and exploring as I glide, ever so gently, along the length of him. I adjust a little to find that spot where the rub of him is nearly unbearable.

When I gasp, he says, his voice a low rumble, “You like that?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

I smile. “Is that an order?”

His eyes meet mine, blazing hot. “Yes, it’s an order. Forget me. Tease yourself.” He moves my fingertips to pinch one nipple and then arches up, ever so slightly, before easing back down. “I’m just going to lie here while you tease yourself until you’re ready to come.”

I bite my lip, breath quickening. “And then?”

“And then come. I want to watch.”

I do exactly that. I feel a little shy at first. Toying with my breasts felt lovely, but I’d been thinking about him, about teasing him. Doing it for myself is different, and it takes me a moment, but when I see the lust in his face, watching me, that’s really all the incentive I need, the modesty falling away as I caress my breasts and toy with my nipples and rub myself against the hot hardness of him. When I’m ready to climax, he grips my hips firmly and says, “Tease.”

Slow down, he means. Draw it out. And I do, thinking of how he does the same for me, making me mad with longing. I do that for myself, and when I finally come, the first waves barely hit before his hands are on my hips, thrusting against me, that thin layer of silk the only thing separating us and it feels like nothing at all, as if his cock is pressed along the length of me, hot and throbbing and then his own stifled cries joining my own.

When we’re both finished, he draws me down on top of him and hugs me tight.

“Thank you,” he says. “That was … spectacular.”

I lift my head and arch one brow. “I thought it was for me.”

He grins the most wicked grin. “Absolutely. It was all for you, and I am not the selfish bastard who just wanted to watch. You will need to do it again. And again. And possibly again. For yourself, of course.”

I snuggle down into him. “Of course.”

EIGHT

We rise early to embark on our trip. The Caledonian Pack lives near Edinburgh, which would take a week by coach. We’ll take the train to Leeds first. We can replenish our wardrobes there, and Bishop needs to speak to a lone wolf who lives in the city.

Once in Leeds, we’ll also send telegrams. I want one for Alfred—Aunt Lenora’s lover—letting him know what happened to Lenora, and also one for my friend Audrey, telling her that Lenora is “away” and I’m fine, so she doesn’t worry.

Bishop had taken note of the butcher’s address, and he’s sending enough money to cover what we took, plus more for the inconvenience. Bishop also needs to send a telegram to the Caledonian Pack. That’s more than just a courteous request for an audience. Without it, they have the right to kill us for trespassing on their territory.