Free 3: Fera - Pack City by Carys Weldon Page A

was feeling guilty for sneaking me out?
     
     
    Well, I didn’t want my lover struggling with guilt when he needed to be attending to me. I told him, ever so quietly, “I wanted to leave that place.”
     
     
    I exonerated him with those words. He kissed me hard. Like a drowning man whose only redemption is a drink from the deepest well, he slid his tongue into my mouth and sucked fluid in a kiss I felt clear to my toes. I can’t even describe the passion that he put into that. The all-consuming feeling that swamped me, that had me clinging to him, totally weak in the knees. Jack held me up and bent me over backward at the same time, laid me over his knee. How he’d dropped to one knee, I don’t know. I don’t care. I truly swooned in his arms. And I knew that loving him, being made love to by him, would be an experience that I would never forget.
     
     
    When he came up for air, his lips only rose about a half-inch. I felt his breath on me, heaving as if he’d been running a marathon, and I thanked Gaia that I wasn’t the only one running a race of emotions.
     
     
    He asked, “What is it?” Again, he searched my features. He released my hair, spread his hands on the back of my head, then took hold again. It felt like a brief massage. Lulled my eyes from the inside out, I think. Under hooded gaze, I watched him.
     
     
    The man had a reverence about him, like he was somewhere between respectful of me, and considering what was to come. Again, the word savor comes to mind.
     
     
    His nose slid around me, not touching, just sniffing. Very much the way I’d seen Leer do to Kayty--many a time.
     
     
    Teasing, the way his breathing warmed my flesh.
     
     
    Humbly, he asked, “What is it, this thing between us that makes me a madman, an insane wolf that would risk life and limb for it?”
     
     
    Kinship. I murmured, smiling, “Attraction, maybe?”
     
     
    That he felt a kinship straight up made my heart flutter, drew me deeper into the snuggling center of his embrace. He pressed me to his breastbone. Hung on tightly. Almost crushed me.
     
     
    But I held him, too, in that desperate-feeling, thank-Gaia grip, for the space of several minutes, eyes closed, feeling how right it was. I could have fallen asleep like that.
     
     
    I definitely felt like he’d sucked the energy from my whole being. I went limp, considered letting myself drift into that restful slumber I suddenly craved, sure that I was safe in his arms.
     
     
    Except between us was something that we couldn’t ignore. Something making itself known to me by pressing into my hip. His cock.
     
     
    And that had me realizing the slathering fluidity between my thighs. Downright messy.
     
     
    Let me explain. It isn’t always like that, but sometimes, when you’re really hot, you’re just wet. I was feeling sensitized all over. Probably had something to do with the proximity of his pheromones, mingling with mine. I don’t really know.
     
     
    Shifting in his arms, suddenly uncomfortable, self-conscious, I forced his hands to move. I don’t know that it was inadvertent when his fingers managed to slip down over my hip, squeeze my ass, then ride up my thigh to cup my crotch.
     
     
    To slide a finger in.
     
     
    Again, I’m sure, my eyes rolled up inside my head.
     
     
    I clawed a little.
     
     
    And he helped me stand up, which, apparently, is what he thought I wanted. He never let go of me, or I of him. He said, “You’re ready for me.”
     
     
    I thought, no shit. I wanted to scream, just fuck me .
     
     
    I know he didn’t want to do it standing up, but he didn’t want to lay me in the grass, either. Too much a man. I had a terrible urge to pull out of his arms altogether and turn my back to him again and bend over, on all fours. And simply demand he climb on.
     
     
    Maybe that’s what caused the embrace to last for extra minutes after I became aware of the throbbing between my legs and the insistent rod pressing against