Wild Wolf (Shifters Unbound, #6)(65)

“You are so beautiful.” Graham’s words were hoarse. “Nothing else matters when I look at you.”

Graham. Misty tried to say his name, but her tongue didn’t work. She was gone on feeling, pleasure, glory. Her hips bumped the table, and she reached to twine her fingers around his wrists.

Back and forth, rocking, silent now but for the sounds of him going in and out, the creak of the table, the faraway laughter of cubs playing in the common yard behind Graham’s house. There was so much life here, always movement, laughter, joy.

Joy. It wound up inside Misty and spilled out. A dark wave of feeling picked her up and washed her away, the room spinning around her as it had when Graham had turned with her.

Graham grunted. His hips moved faster and faster, his grip on her tight. He pumped into her in a frenzy, sweat dripping from him, his head back. He was a wild man, huge and strong. This was more raw than making love—this was pure, animal-like sex.

Graham’s thrusts came even faster, Misty lost in the friction of it. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. A scream came from her throat, echoing against Graham’s shout.

Graham slammed into her one last time, groaning, his seed scalding inside her. His hips started moving again, the rhythm pounding, his hands sliding on her hips, slick with sweat.

He opened his eyes, his last shout of pleasure dying down into a groan. “Misty,” he said. “Goddess, help me.”

Graham lifted her again, gentler this time, and gathered her into his arms. Her legs went around his hips, he still inside her.

He turned with her in another circle, slower now, Graham kissing her with warm lips. He held her close, the fire gone from his eyes, a dark glow taking its place.

“Mate,” Graham whispered. “Mine.”

Misty touched his hair and kissed his lips, drifting on a cushion of happiness.

? ? ?

Graham carried Misty upstairs to his bedroom, where she’d lain in so much pain. Someone—probably Misty herself—had already stripped the bed, leaving the plain mattress ready for clean sheets.

Graham laid her down, stripped the rest of her clothes from her, parted her legs, and slid inside her again. He was not done sexing her. Not by a long way.

Misty lifted her body to meet his. She wasn’t a shy virgin—she liked sex, and she wanted Graham. Graham felt no triumph over this. It was just . . . right.

Goddess, she was beautiful. He couldn’t help saying it. Her round breasts, tipped with dusky nipples, tightened as he loved her. Sweet plumpness he could sink his fingers into, her brown hair spread across his pillow. And her eyes, lovely liquid brown eyes, watching him without fear or shame. Eyes a man could drown in.

He pressed inside her, unable to slow his thrusts. He wanted her fast and hard, again and again. The mating frenzy. Sex until they couldn’t walk, until she was heavy with his cub.

Something tightened inside Graham. He wanted her to bear his cubs. Craved it. If they had to stay in this bedroom and screw for days until then . . . Oh well.

Too soon, Graham came. Misty groaned with her own pleasure, she pouring heat over his cock.

The pain he’d had since he’d drunk the Fae water hadn’t left him, but Misty around him let it recede. The mating frenzy broke through it, swelling Graham’s cock again. More.

Misty laughed as Graham started thrusting again. She looked tired and spent, but he couldn’t stop.

He lay down on her and rolled with her so Misty was on top of him. Graham liked things this way, where he could look up at her, her eyes heavy with pleasure, and cup his hands over her breasts while she rode him.

Face-to-face on their sides was good too, Misty’s leg wrapped around his, Graham pumping into her. Again and again, Graham loved her, in every position he could think of. Misty laughed, pleaded that she needed to rest, and laughed again. Every time, she came with him, her body growing more and more pliant.

The sun was moving to the west when Misty dropped into sleep, not waking when Graham kissed her cheek. His mating frenzy was still high—he was a male Shifter in his prime who hadn’t had sex in many months—but he had some compassion. He let her sleep, dressing himself and walking outside to the heat of the late afternoon.

“You done with sex?” Dougal asked, appearing from the green behind the house and falling into step with him. “Took you long enough.”

“I’ll never be done with it,” Graham said. He walked along slowly, a bit chafed, but that would be gone by the time he went back into the house. Shifters healed quickly. “Mating frenzy won’t let me be.”


“Eric is looking for you. You need to go talk to the Collar-making Fae.”

Graham shook his head. “I’m not leaving Misty alone. My wolves will know I mate-claimed her soon enough.”

Dougal stepped in front of Graham, stopping Graham’s long-legged pace. “You made the mate-claim? That’s awesome. Did she accept?”

“No, she tried to refuse. But I think I’ve changed her mind.”

“With sex?”

“No, I made her spaghetti,” Graham said impatiently. “What do you think? Of course, with sex.”

“So she’s going to be your mate?” Dougal grinned, excited.

“You’re okay with that?”

“I like Misty. She’s nice. The total opposite of you.”

Graham cuffed Dougal across the head, but gently. “I have to get my wolves to accept her. That won’t be easy.” When Graham had told them to try to decide which clan would dominate through one of their daughters, he’d temporarily eased the situation, knowing they’d argue among themselves. But when Graham presented them with his choice of Misty, they’d band together against him.