The Wizard King (7 page)

She was aroused.

So instead of answering her question, Gareth did the only thing he could do, that wolf and man would allow. He accepted her unspoken invitation, kissing her with all the longing he’d felt since the moment she disappeared.

Whatever he’d done, however he’d driven her away, he’d regret for the rest of his life. Once he figured it out, he’d never do it again. She’d know she was wanted, was needed more than breath.

Whatever
it
turned out to be.

But that was a question for another time. Now the most important question he had was whether she was a screamer or a moaner.

He’d never understood how someone could say that another person tasted like sunshine, but that’s exactly what Gen tasted like: happiness and warmth and everything good. She tasted sweet, like she’d been sucking on a hard candy, and Gareth drank her sweetness down. He’d been starving for her, and now he was going to wolf her down.

He almost laughed at that thought.
No pun intended.

She whimpered, collapsing against him, trusting her weight to him. Gareth wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he plundered her mouth. Her total surrender to him, the way she clung to him, soothed the snarling beast inside him. Alpha that Gareth was, he needed that, to know that as powerful as Gen was, she was willing to give in to him.

But Gareth should have known better. His Gen didn’t stay passive for long. Soon she was clawing at his shirt, tugging it up to caress bare skin, her nails leaving little trails of fire as she scored him, marked him in her own way. He hissed as she broke skin, drawing blood, the scent making his wolf wild.

Just a few steps, and he’d have her. A few steps, and they collapsed together onto his velvet sofa. Gareth thrust his hips against her, moaning as she trembled beneath him.

“Gareth?”

He had no idea what expression he had on his face, but Gen’s eyes went wide. She tilted her head, baring her neck to him, that long, slender line and smooth, creamy skin tempting him as nothing else in the world could. The need to bite down on the fleshy part of her shoulder, right where neck and shoulder met, was almost overwhelming.

Gareth growled, pleased at his mate’s show of submission. He longed to allow his fangs to descend, to take that tender flesh between his teeth and mark her forever as his. He shuddered with the need to chant the last bit of the spell that would bind them together for the rest of their lives, marking her forever his.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bite her yet, couldn’t chant the rest of the spell. She hadn’t fully accepted him. So Gareth, despite his aching gums, despite the whining of his wolf, pulled back from that tempting flesh and instead sat up. He ripped his shirt over his head, smiling when her breath caught.

He’d bite her when the time was right, take her blood into him, chant the last of the spell to mark her forever as his.

Only when it was time.

But for now, he’d do everything he could to chain her to him without it.

Kicking off the rest of his clothes, Gareth immediately began to strip his mate. She didn’t protest, but she didn’t help either. She lay there, watching him out of huge eyes, shivering as her skin was bared to his gaze. And gaze he did, lingering on the startlingly dark nipples, the thatch of dark blonde hair at the apex of her thighs. Her muscles quivered as he ran his fingers down her legs as gently as he could, tossing her pants and her panties beside his jeans. He didn’t even know how she’d lost those ugly beige pumps of hers, considering she’d only moved enough to help him get her undressed.

She was perfection, blushing perfection.

Gareth took one of her nipples between his teeth, giving in to the urge to nip the budding flesh. He growled as she gasped, arching beneath him, her legs restlessly tangling with his.

Oh, his little warlock liked that. Gareth did it again, and again, switching to the other nipple when her movements became jerky, her cries almost pain-filled. Her hands clenched his shoulders, his biceps, her nails digging into his skin. He loved that stinging pain, the knowledge that she’d marked him again in her own way filling him with joy.

“Oh. Gareth. Please.”

Her eyes were closed, her head tossed back as he savored her breasts. Her breathless cries drove him south, kissing his way down her stomach, touching her hips until she spread for him.

He wasted no time. He needed to see what she looked like as she came, needed to taste her on his tongue as she found her pleasure. He held her hips still when she practically bucked him off at the first touch of his tongue to her clit.

Had no one gone down on her before? She acted like it was new, and he wondered what sort of lovers she’d had before him that she gazed at him now with so much wide-eyed wonder. Just the thought of some phantom man giving her pleasure had him snarling inside, but he kept it to himself. His past wasn’t exactly spotless. He’d had his share of lovers before.

He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he wanted to hunt down each and every man who’d ever touched his mate and string them up by their balls.

So, he was a hypocrite. He could live with that.

She gasped as he took her into his mouth, sucking her clit in rhythmic pulls, determined to get her off before he slid inside her. She struggled against his hold, writhing in his grasp as she sought her pleasure with flushed cheeks and glazed eyes.

Her tiny cries became louder, more frantic, and Gareth followed her cues. He intensified his efforts, stroking a finger over her hole as he continued to devour her.

She cried out, screaming, her eyes clenched shut as she rocketed over the edge.

Oh, Goddess, yes. A screamer. His favorite fucking kind.

He slid a finger inside her, frowning slightly at how she flinched. She was tight, tighter than any female he’d touched this way, but then she bucked, driving his finger deeper into her. Gareth continued to lick her pussy, keeping her from coming too far down from the orgasm high. He wanted her wet and panting, desperate for him to come inside her. So he stroked her, fucking her with his finger gently at first, then picking up speed as he began once more to suck on her clit.

She liked that, if her increasing whimpers were anything to go by. So he added another finger, stretching her. He wasn’t huge in size, but she was so tight he was afraid he’d accidentally hurt her if he drove into her without loosening her first.

Whatever experience his mate had, it couldn’t be a lot. Either that, or it had been so long since she’d fucked that she was practically a virgin.

A virgin at twenty-two, in this day and age? Gareth almost laughed. That was as probable as Daniel trying out for
RuPaul’s Drag Race
.

She cried out, startling him as she clenched around his fingers. Gen in the throes of orgasm was a beautiful sight, one he planned on seeing over and over again.

Before she was done he was crawling up her body, ready to slide inside her, fuck her until she screamed for him again. He kissed her, let her taste herself on his lips as he gently slid his cock along her hole.

She froze beneath him as he nudged inside, wincing as he invaded her.

Shit. Guess he’d be buying Daniel a sparkling dress and glitter lipstick. “Gen?”

“Yes?”

Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, so Gareth stilled. As desperately as he wanted to just thrust inside her, his mate’s needs came first, always. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“No, I—”

“Gen.”

She mewled, the sound surprisingly kittenish. “I may have a little less experience than most women my age.”

Gareth pushed forward slightly, stilling when her expression became pain-filled. “A little?”

“A lot, a lot.” She grasped his biceps surprisingly hard. “Just…give me a minute.”

He would give her forever, no matter how difficult that was. Her expression eased, and she nodded. He inched forward again, freezing until she gave him the go-ahead.

Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, Gareth entered his mate. By the time he was fully seated he was aching so badly he thought his balls might explode, but at least his mate didn’t seem to be in any more pain. Still, he waited, softly kissing her lips, her throat, nibbling on her ear until her hands began to clench and unclench on his arms. Her hips lifted, driving him deeper inside, and those whimpering little cries started up again.

Thank fuck, she was ready.

“We’re going to have a little chat about the importance of telling me things like, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve never made love before.’ Got it, sweetheart?” Gareth punctuated his words with a shallow thrust, smiling as she gasped.

“Gareth.”

“The only thing I want to hear is ‘yes, Gareth’.” He thrust again, this time a little deeper, a little harder. He wouldn’t ride her the way he’d originally planned. She might be The Little Virgin That Could, but he’d cut his own nuts off before he hurt her. So he kept his movements gentle, shallow until she indicated she was ready for more. And even then, he fucked her gently, slowly as he gave her a sweetness he hadn’t known he was capable of.

Oh, it was good. Better than he’d thought it would be. Taking his time, savoring every thrust, the ways she moaned and gasped and began babbling for more, had him feeling more like a king than all the sire this and sire that.

“Oh. Oh. Goddess, Gareth.” Her eyes were glazing over, her lips parted as she gasped. “Oh, please.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He kept his thrusts deep and slow, fighting his own orgasm with everything in him. He needed her to come first.

“Gareth. Please.”

Her desperate tone, the way her cheeks flushed and she couldn’t meet his eyes, all screamed her lack of experience. Gareth wasn’t bastard enough to force her to say what she wanted. Eventually he’d get his prim and proper mate to whisper filthy things in his ear while they fucked, but for now, he’d accept her nonverbal cues and leave it at that.

So he sped up his thrusts, tilting her hips until she gave a startled gasp.
There you are.
He was brushing her clit with every stroke, driving her higher and higher as his fangs descended.

Not yet. Not yet,
he chanted desperately to his wolf.
Soon.

Soon, but not yet.

She cried out, a tight, breathless sound as she spasmed around him, dragging him over the edge with her. Stars danced behind his closed eyelids as he shuddered above her, panting as pure ecstasy blinded him, turning his world white.

And when it was over, when his skin slid across hers as he turned and cradled her close, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he caught his breath they’d be doing that again, and again and again. His mate was addictive, and he’d never get enough of her.

Gen woke slowly, as she was wont to do, her brain about two steps behind her body. Stretching slowly, she paused as her toes encountered…another leg?

What in the world?

She opened her eyes and glanced warily next to her. What fresh hell had her family…

The face of the man next to her finally registered.

Oh.

Oh.

Goddess above, she’d slept with Gareth.

Gareth.

Gen pinched herself as hard as she could, wincing at the pain.

Yes. She was, in fact, awake. And Gareth was, in fact, lying next to her, his glorious nakedhood covered by a thin gray sheet. He was sound asleep, his jaw slack, the usual fierceness of his expression giving way to a little boy softness that had her wanting to coo.

But he wasn’t a little boy, not at all. He had a hairy chest, one that begged to be stroked, with hard pectoral muscles and six-pack abs to die for. She had to resist the urge to reach out and pet the dark pelt that covered him from pecs to penis. Even his thighs and biceps were sprinkled with dark hair, thinning out down to his ankles and wrists. She understood now why he didn’t wear one of those metal watchbands that stretched. It would constantly get caught, pulling at the hairs on his arms.

His brothers weren’t nearly as hairy as he was. It was like Gareth’s wolf lived closer to the surface of his skin, from his golden wolf eyes to the way he prowled into a room, alert and dangerous and powerful. His low, pleased growl when she’d submitted to him, tilted her head and bared her neck…

Gen shivered hard enough to rattle the bed.

Gen was at a crossroads. She could stay put, wait for him to wake up and deal with whatever consequences came from their night of passion, or she could sneak out of the bed and out the front door, thus avoiding all the awkward morning-after scenarios running through her head.

It had been…intense, and slightly painful, and absolutely wonderful. And when it was over, when she lay spent in his arms, he’d picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, to his den, and nestled with her under the covers until they’d both fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Well. She’d fallen asleep. She had no idea if he’d followed suit. She’d been so tired from spell casting and then sleeping with Gareth that purple elephants could have danced the mambo in front of her and she still would have passed out.