born into the Komoro pack, then so did Argram. She’d half expected Wesken to shift and demand answers as they came back to the village, but he’d stayed in his wolf form, stubbornly following her as she made her way home. With each step she took, her heart broke a little more. He didn’t want her side of the story. Well, fine. She didn’t need him.
Liar.
She should go out and find Argram. Maybe he’d be more forgiving than his brother. If she could convince him, then maybe she could stay with the Komoro pack. But did she want to? The torture of seeing Wesken on a daily basis, knowing that he hated her, would kill her. She took a step toward the door, then sat down again. Why would he forgive her when the Mahehkans had abducted his son less than twenty-four hours before? Because he’s a reasonable and fair Alpha, that’s why. He wasn’t Roger. At the very least, he would listen. Having made up her mind, Amalija stood, marched to the door, and swung it open.
On the other side, Wesken stood with his fist up, poised to knock.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her. With one big step, he closed the distance between them. He brought his hand up, holding it there for a half-second before caressing her cheek. He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip, and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry, I…” He grunted as he pulled her into his arms. His mouth crashed onto hers in a hard, desperate kiss. He brought his hands up, burrowing his fingers in her hair, holding her still for his invasion.
Shocked, Amalija didn’t respond for a second, but when his tongue demanded entrance and his growl rumbled deep in his throat, she melted against him, giving what he demanded—taking what she needed. He moved forward, forcing her back. She vaguely registered her front door slamming shut as he pushed her deeper into her home.
She bumped into something, and something else crashed to the floor, but it didn’t matter. She fisted her hands, grasping the soft cotton covering his chest. The shirt had to go. She tugged at it, freeing it from his jeans, then growled when it wouldn’t go up past his arms. She tore her lips from his, tugging again.
Wesken grabbed the shirt at the back of his neck and pulled it off in one smooth move. But rather than kiss her again, he did the same to her. Her bra came off as quickly. Material might have torn. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he was now pulling her jeans off, along with her undies. The garments went flying across the room and then he was on her again. He lifted her up so that she was sitting on the high table in the entrance hall. Whatever she’d had on there was gone, but she didn’t care.
His mouth was on her again, licking and nipping at her lips, her jaw, and skimming lower. When he got to that sweet spot where her neck connected to her shoulder, he bit her—hard. Not enough to claim, but he’d left his mark. A jolt of pleasure ricocheted from her neck to her pussy, and a wave of need flooded her. Her pulse throbbed in her clit, making her moan.
He brought his lips down her chest, leaving a trail of fire as he grazed his teeth over the swell of her breast before capturing her nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.
Amalija gasped and arched her back. It was too much. Already, her body was close to climax, and he still wasn’t naked. She needed him inside her. With a quick jerk of her hand, she popped the snap of his jeans, then slid the zipper down. “Now, please,” she begged.
With her legs wrapped around his hips and his mouth on her breast, it was all she could do to focus on getting his jeans down. She didn’t even care if they came off, as long as his cock was free and going inside her. Using both hands and her feet, she yanked, pulled, and pushed until they slipped over his ass to his thighs.
He moved to the other breast, leaving the first bereft, but not for long. He cupped it in his hand, kneading and squeezing, then with his fingers, he
Liar.
She should go out and find Argram. Maybe he’d be more forgiving than his brother. If she could convince him, then maybe she could stay with the Komoro pack. But did she want to? The torture of seeing Wesken on a daily basis, knowing that he hated her, would kill her. She took a step toward the door, then sat down again. Why would he forgive her when the Mahehkans had abducted his son less than twenty-four hours before? Because he’s a reasonable and fair Alpha, that’s why. He wasn’t Roger. At the very least, he would listen. Having made up her mind, Amalija stood, marched to the door, and swung it open.
On the other side, Wesken stood with his fist up, poised to knock.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her. With one big step, he closed the distance between them. He brought his hand up, holding it there for a half-second before caressing her cheek. He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip, and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry, I…” He grunted as he pulled her into his arms. His mouth crashed onto hers in a hard, desperate kiss. He brought his hands up, burrowing his fingers in her hair, holding her still for his invasion.
Shocked, Amalija didn’t respond for a second, but when his tongue demanded entrance and his growl rumbled deep in his throat, she melted against him, giving what he demanded—taking what she needed. He moved forward, forcing her back. She vaguely registered her front door slamming shut as he pushed her deeper into her home.
She bumped into something, and something else crashed to the floor, but it didn’t matter. She fisted her hands, grasping the soft cotton covering his chest. The shirt had to go. She tugged at it, freeing it from his jeans, then growled when it wouldn’t go up past his arms. She tore her lips from his, tugging again.
Wesken grabbed the shirt at the back of his neck and pulled it off in one smooth move. But rather than kiss her again, he did the same to her. Her bra came off as quickly. Material might have torn. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he was now pulling her jeans off, along with her undies. The garments went flying across the room and then he was on her again. He lifted her up so that she was sitting on the high table in the entrance hall. Whatever she’d had on there was gone, but she didn’t care.
His mouth was on her again, licking and nipping at her lips, her jaw, and skimming lower. When he got to that sweet spot where her neck connected to her shoulder, he bit her—hard. Not enough to claim, but he’d left his mark. A jolt of pleasure ricocheted from her neck to her pussy, and a wave of need flooded her. Her pulse throbbed in her clit, making her moan.
He brought his lips down her chest, leaving a trail of fire as he grazed his teeth over the swell of her breast before capturing her nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.
Amalija gasped and arched her back. It was too much. Already, her body was close to climax, and he still wasn’t naked. She needed him inside her. With a quick jerk of her hand, she popped the snap of his jeans, then slid the zipper down. “Now, please,” she begged.
With her legs wrapped around his hips and his mouth on her breast, it was all she could do to focus on getting his jeans down. She didn’t even care if they came off, as long as his cock was free and going inside her. Using both hands and her feet, she yanked, pulled, and pushed until they slipped over his ass to his thighs.
He moved to the other breast, leaving the first bereft, but not for long. He cupped it in his hand, kneading and squeezing, then with his fingers, he
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