Page 33 of Trusting Her Mate

My wolf purrs. Actually fucking purrs, smug and satisfied.

I flip her, and her back hits the mattress, and she laughs, bright and breathless, before I swallow it with my mouth. I drive into her, and the laugh becomes a moan. Her legs wrap around my waist, ankles locking at the small of my back, pulling me deeper.

“Harder,” she says.

I brace my forearms on either side of her head and give her everything she asks for. The bed frame groans, but I don’t care. The world shrinks to Wren—her scent, her heat, the sounds she makes when I hit the right spot, the way her fingers knot in the sheets.

I murmur against her ear. “You’re fucking loving this.”

“You know I am.”

“Tell me.”

She makes a frustrated sound. “I like it. I like, fuck, right there...”

I angle my hips and drive deep. She shatters, back arched, mouth open, my name ripped from her throat. The bond explodes with her release, dragging me under with her. I bury myself to the hilt and come so hard everything goes white, barely catching myself before I crush her. My face presses into her neck. The claiming mark is warm against my lips. We’re both gasping, sweat-damp, tangled together.

“Okay,” Wren says after a long silence. “That was a good morning.”

I huff a laugh against her skin. “Just good?”

“Exceptional. Outstanding. Multiple gold stars.”

I lift my head. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes shining, her mouth curved in a smile so satisfied it borders on obscene.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey.” I kiss her lips softly.

“Your wolf is being smug right now.”

“He earned it.”

She laughs and shoves my shoulder. I roll onto my back, dragging her with me. She sprawls across my chest, chin on her hands, studying me like she’s trying to memorize every line.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. Just looking.”

“Looking at what?”

“At you. Being relaxed.” She pokes my jaw. “It’s weird. You have expressions now.”

“I’ve always had expressions.”

“No, you had one expression. Stance Twelve—Murderously Annoyed. This is new.”

I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “You broke something in me.”

“Your stamina?”

“My dignity.”

She grins, and I want to kiss it off her face, but my stomach chooses that moment to growl loud enough to echo off the walls.

“Hungry?” she asks.

“Apparently.”