With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(64)

At her words, he buried himself inside her silken wetness and exploded with a guttural snarl, feeling an intensity he’d never experienced. It was akin to the change to wolf, it was like exploding out of his skin.

And the power of it was startling and magnificent.

When he recovered he released her hair but held her h*ps and continued to thrust gently inside her. She’d collapsed on her front, her head in the pillows, her hair fanning everywhere, her breathing still labored. She continued to offer her sweet ass to him as he tenderly plunged inside her, her h*ps angled up and pressing, encouraging, a loving invitation, a tender capitulation, a beautiful reminder that she belonged to him.

He glided a hand from her hip, over her bottom and up to his chain which had slid high up her back, catching under her br**sts. He tugged it down where it caught lightly on her h*ps so he could remind his mate of its presence, something he never wanted her to forget. Then, still thrusting, slower and slower, he trailed his fingers along the chain at the small of her back.

Her body shivered under his as the walls of her sex trembled delicately around his shaft.

Callum forced his h*ps into hers, taking her off her knees, pinning her to the bed on her belly, his c**k still inside her, her legs spreading pleasingly wide to accommodate him.

The change wasn’t upon him anymore. His blood not boiling, his skin heated only from f**king his gloriously sweet, pretty, perfect little mate.

As was the reason for her existence, she’d sated him.

And, he was realizing with fierce satisfaction, she did it beautifully every f**king time.

Content, he placed his forearms into the bed at her sides to settle some of his weight off her body. He used his chin to shift her hair away from her face and, at her ear, pressing deep inside her one last time, he muttered, “My glorious queen, I told you we’d have a beautiful life, you and I.”

And, with his still hard c**k buried deep inside his queen, Callum, king of the wolves, fell asleep while the Christmas lights from Sonia’s tree cast a glow on their connected bodies.

Chapter Eleven

Scales

Still mostly asleep, Sonia’s hazy consciousness registered the covers slowly sliding down her body.

She was on her belly. Even motionless she could feel the delicious ache in every single muscle and a luscious throbbing between her legs that was a vague ache but a greater feeling of gratification. The ache was the ghost of Callum pounding inside her, the gratification was the reminder of being headily stuffed full.

Her eyes fluttered open then closed as she felt the fleeting touch on the skin of her upper bu**ocks where the needles were jabbed for her injections.

This fleeting touch became a different kind as if lips were trailing there.

She sighed at the beauty of it and momentarily melted back to sleep.

Then she felt strong fingers grasp her h*ps and she was gently rolled, arms came around her and she was lifted.

She nuzzled into Callum’s warm, hard, weirdly fully-clothed body, tucking her face in his neck and seeking slumber as he settled into the bed, his back to the headboard, his knees cocked, Sonia snug in his lap.

“Sonia?” he called and her eyelids fluttered again.

“So sleepy,” she whispered, cuddling closer, one of her arms bent and pressed between them, the other hand resting on his massive chest.

“I know, baby doll,” he murmured, his arms growing tight for an instant then she felt his temple glide lovingly against her hair.

“I like it when you do that,” she told him, pressing her nose to his neck for a moment then settling and sighing, exhaustion and the heavy ache of her body calling her back to sleep.

“When I mark you?” She heard him ask through her waning consciousness.

“Mm,” she replied, falling briefly into a doze as his arm around her calves shifted to become fingers trailing from her knee down her inner thigh.

“Sonia, honey,” Callum called and her eyes fluttered again.

“Wolf, I’m sleepy,” she protested weakly and to make her point, burrowed deeper into his hard frame.

At her words, his trailing fingers became a gentle grip on the flesh of her inner thigh for a moment before they started trailing again.

“You said that, little one,” he replied softly. “I wanted you to know that the men are here. You need your rest and I need to get to work so I called them here.” His fingers were still trailing from knee to mid-inner-thigh and back again as he finished, “I came up to tell you because I didn’t want you to be alarmed if you woke and heard voices.”

“Okay,” she replied, her thoughts still drowsy, her attention reverting to his fingers’ movements.

He kissed the top of her head and muttered in a final way, “You sleep as long as you like.”

Sonia wasn’t listening.

Her body decided his fingers weren’t going deep enough and, on a downward trail, her h*ps unconsciously, lazily, rose to lengthen their route.

Those fingers stilled.

Involuntarily, a disappointed noise escaped the back of Sonia’s throat.

His hand dropped instantly and his big palm rested warmly at the juncture between her legs.

It registered on her somnolent brain that that felt nice.

His voice had grown husky when he asked, “Do you want a little play, baby doll?”

Before her mind fully woke, her body used her mouth to answer quietly, “Yes, Callum.”