Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (24 page)

He didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to continue, and I was just as glad for that; it gave my body a chance to adjust and acclimate to the overfilled feeling.

He began to stroke my hair, my side, as though I were a small child in need of comforting. I smiled tenderly at that; odd as his decisions seemed to me, at times, at least his first instinct was usually to take care of his own, or those he perceived as his own.

Gradually, the pain subsided, and the earlier hunger grew again. When I thought maybe I was ready to try more, I let him know easily enough; I nipped at the side of his neck, squirming my hips against his.
Oh! That was an amazing feeling.
I did it again, and little shivers radiated out from my core to every inch of my body.

He chuckled breathlessly. “Ready for more, honey?”

“Mmm.” I nipped at his neck again, a little harder this time, earning myself a low growl from him. I giggled softly. My hands slid down his magnificent body, to grab his butt with both hands, pushing him down and forward with all the subtlety of a two-by-four.

He chuckled again, kissing the side of my neck softly, as his hips began to move under my hands. I drew in a sharp breath; it still hurt more than a little. Every little motion set new nerves on fire. But my body was becoming accustomed enough that it also felt intensely
good
.

This time, he was slow, and careful. The more he moved, the more the pleasure eclipsed the pain. I could begin to glimpse what all the fuss was about. I could tell that once my body was accustomed to this straining presence, it would be even more intensely pleasurable than it had been painful at first.

“Good?” he murmured, his voice sounding strained.
It must be hard for him to be so patient
, I thought. But patient he was, waiting for me to be ready.

“Mhmm,” I replied, but he seemed to hear the pain lacing my tone, because he slowed down even more. He was only just barely moving against me, and the pain subsided more, until it mostly just intensified the pleasure.

He kept at the barely-moving pace until even I started to get frustrated with it. “More,” I purred with a pouty, pleading edge to my voice.

He groaned softly in response, and began to move just a bit faster, experimental, keeping a close eye on my expressions. I cooed, my legs wrapping around his.

“Mmn, yes, good,” I reassured him. He kissed my neck, then up onto my lips, and all the restrained passion from the rest of his body was poured into that kiss, hot and wild and deep.

❖ ❖ ❖

Little by little, he began to pick up speed, waiting after each increase until I assured him that it was alright. It was a gradual process, and I could tell he was getting frustrated, but he remained so careful. If I had any uncertainty before about how he felt for me, his concern and restraint would have put those doubts to rest.

We continued to explore one another’s bodies. I was giddily delighted to discover that his nipples were almost as sensitive as mine, especially with a judicious application of teeth. Each little nip earned me a shuddering moan, his body twitching against mine, which was an interesting feeling in and of itself, with him inside me.

He continued to seem to find my neck fascinating, much of his attention centered there. As much as he was biting and sucking the thin skin there, I was certain I would be all marked up by the time we were done, but I didn’t care. I lifted my chin to give him even better access. I was his, if he wanted to leave his mark, that was fine with me.

He lowered his head, having to twist a bit, to reach my breast as well. As he sucked and gently teased with his teeth and his tongue, I felt another crest coming, and between that and the friction from below it didn’t take long before I was shuddering and shaking with the power of another orgasm. He slowed a bit as I rode out the wave of pleasure, but then picked right back up.

Gradual as it was, eventually his speed picked up until he was jerking his hips against mine, fast and hard, pushing deep inside me with each thrust. Now and then, when he went particularly deep, I had the oddest sensation, as though he were about to push right on through me into my throat from below; I knew that was both ridiculous and impossible, but that was how it felt.

As his need for restraint faded away, he began to growl almost constantly. He was like a wild animal, driven by the most primal urge of all. It was breathtaking, in both the literal and figurative sense; I was left gasping, struggling to breath, but it felt
so good
by that point, no more pain, just all-encompassing ecstasy.

It wasn’t long after he reached full speed that his thrusting began to grow somewhat erratic, a hitch here, a shuddering double-thrust there. Realizing what was about to happen, he began to pull out, but my hands, in pure instinct, flew down to his butt, trying to stop him from pulling away.

“Ada,” he groaned, sounding pained, “If I d-don’t stop now, I’m going to- to come, inside you.” He panted, with his jaw clenched; this was obviously costing him a great effort.

“Good,” I replied in a low growl of my own. There was no thought to it; if I had stopped to think I probably would have been appalled. It was all instinct, the wolf side of me completely dominant in that moment.

❖ ❖ ❖

He groaned deep in his chest, resting his head on my shoulder for a long moment, but his body’s demands won out over whatever thoughts he was struggling with. He began to move again, and his hips thrust fast and hard into me. I cried out loudly; he was rough enough now that it began to hurt again, but somehow that pain just made the pleasure that much more intoxicating. I knew I would not last long like this, either.

He leaned on one hand, the other finding my chest, teasing my nipples, kneading my breasts, switching from one breast to the other. Every shift and change built up my own pleasure.

My hands, in turn, roamed up and down his body, exulting in the feel of his muscles rippling and bunching under his skin. He was so magnificent, and he was
mine
. Without thought, I craned up, and bit his neck rather roughly, just as he had done to me earlier. He snarled, a sound that would have been terrifying under other circumstances, utterly inhuman; but he only pulled me more tightly against him, seeming to strain, as if he wanted to pound into me even harder, though I didn’t think that was physically possible. I could feel that delicious aching tightness building low in my belly again; it wouldn’t be long now, for either of us.

Then, abruptly, he threw his head back — dislodging me from his neck in the process — and gave a bizarre growling-groaning-howl, that sounded even less like it came from a human throat than the snarl had. He thrust once or twice more, shuddering, then remained buried inside me, as I felt myself flooded with heat from him, deep inside.

Teetering on the edge of the precipice as I was, that sensation combined with his throbbing deep within me, pushed me over the edge. My world completely disintegrated, swept away on a tide of pleasure so powerful I would have sworn a minute before it would not have been possible. It seemed as though every last nerve in my body exploded in a starburst of sparks. I lost all awareness of anything but the ecstasy, so intense it was nearly agonizing. This was the very pinnacle of experience; I was certain that if anything was more profound than this, it would be impossible to survive; my body would simply cease to function at all.

I have no idea how long I hung in that state of absolute euphoria, but eventually I regained awareness bit by bit. My own body was the first thing I became aware of; I was partially curled up, every single muscle in my body clenched tight. I realized after a moment that I was clenched around him, my nails digging into his back, my legs tight around his thighs and my toes curled so tight I was afraid my feet would cramp. I worked on slowly unclenching my body, relaxing each muscle in turn, though little aftershocks of pleasure swept through me, making my efforts almost futile.

He was still tense and shivering as well, I realized, feeling his trembling against me as my awareness expanded. Well, that made me feel slightly better, at least. As I regained control over my body, I began to place little kisses — in between my gasping breaths — on his chest, the only thing I could really reach at the moment.

As I felt his body slowly begin to relax as well, I looked up at him with a radiant smile.

❖ ❖ ❖

He shuddered with a breathy, drawn-out groan, and rolled onto his side next to me. He kept his arm tightly around me, pulling me with him, so that we ended up with my head pillowed on his bicep, his other arm draped around my waist, and our legs all tangled up together.

His hands moved slowly, stroking my hair and my back in short little motions. I extricated my upper arm, resting it on top of his, and smoothed his damp hair back out of his face. He returned my smile so tenderly it made my heart melt.

“I love you, Adalyn,” he murmured softly. I giggled faintly, not because it was funny exactly, but because if I hadn’t been sure of that, we wouldn’t be here now.

“I love you too, Bryson,” I finally replied, when he began looking faintly worried by my giggling. I leaned up to kiss him; our kiss was soft, tender, but with a spark of that passion still in it, like a promise.

We lay there together for some time, kissing and stroking one another, soothing each other down from the incredible high. He cradled me against him as if I were the most precious thing in the entire world; given how I felt about him, that was probably exactly accurate.

Eventually, he pulled back slightly, looking down into my face, his brows drawn together slightly, looking thoughtful, and his lovely warm eyes held a hint of uncertainty.

“So,” he began, trying and rather failing to sound nonchalant, “does this mean yes? That you wish to be my mate, to join the pack?”

I laughed softly, and nuzzled my face into his broad chest, savoring his clean, wild scent, reminiscent of the wolf even now.

“Yes, Bryson. I am yours. I always have been, I just didn’t understand that.”

He beamed at me, and leaned in, kissing me deeply again. I didn’t want him to ever stop, and I contented myself in knowing that in a broader sense, he never would.

Epilogue

I sat on my bench next to the blazing fire, watching it dip and dance. I ran my hand over the smooth wood with a smile; it had been a wedding present from Elijah, made with his own hands, since I had to spend so much time sitting here alone — for now.

It had been three years, now, since Bryson returned to my life, completing it; completing me. It had been a busy three years: we got married almost two years ago, and I graduated a year and a half ago. But my interval of waiting — both my intervals of waiting — were finally drawing to a close.

I listened to the sounds of my family, my pack, echoing through the night as they ran the woods, hunting for game. Tonight was a night to celebrate. A piercing howl, followed by a chorus of yips and lesser answering howls, told me they had had luck, and soon we would feast. My heart began to race, wishing I could be there with them to join in the chase.

I moved my hand from the intricately carved arm rest, to the round mass of my belly. “Soon, my little love,” I crooned. Before the next full moon night, I would be bringing Bryson’s son — of
course
it was a son, all I had done when the doctor told us was roll my eyes — into the world.

The pack was beyond jubilant. I never had to so much as lift a finger for myself if I didn’t want to; and even when I did want to, as often as not I was scolded and told to relax and let someone else handle it. It was very sweet, but very odd, as well. It seemed like these evenings spent by the fire were the only time in at least six months that I had been permitted to be alone. Someone was always there, to make sure I didn’t so much as stub my toe.

At least Bryson was deemed as acceptable ‘protection’ for me — like making sure I didn’t “strain myself” by lifting anything heavier than a glass of water — so we did have time alone together.

Miss Madge, as well as several of the other females of the pack, had been sewing, knitting, or crocheting up a storm; he would be able to wear a different outfit every day without ever having to repeat for at least the first two or three years.

Madge had become like a second mother to me. Honestly, in many ways, she was closer to me than my own mother. I loved my mother dearly, but we had always been so different. Miss Madge insisted I might as well be a younger version of her, and I believed it. She seemed to understand me on an instinctive level as well, if not even better, than Bryson.