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Trick fisted his hands as she spread her thighs a little, tempting him, inviting him. Her pussy was pink and glistening, and he needed to taste it. He snapped his eyes to hers. “Grab the headboard, Frankie.” Her brow slowly lifted, but she curled her hands around the iron rungs of the headboard. “Good. Keep those hands right there. Do not let go.”


“Do not let go.” He knelt on the bed and tapped her thigh. “Wider, Frankie. Offer me what’s mine.” Agonizingly slowly, her thighs fell open. Her scent rushed into his lungs. Yes, this was what he wanted, her all spread out for him like a feast. “I’m not going to claim you yet, but I am going to leave my brand on you. Here. Now. As many times as I want.”

Frankie gripped the headboard tight as Trick began to torture her neck with his tongue and teeth, leaving several marks. Not bites that were hard enough to draw blood or scar like a claiming mark, but hard enough to make a statement that she was his. As those possessive hands roamed and explored and squeezed, they also branded her as his just as surely as any bite.

A gasp flew out of her as he suckled on her nipple. Each rhythmic tug seemed to shoot sparks of need straight to her clit. “Trick—” She jolted as he left a suckling bite on the swell of her breast. “I get it! Consider me branded and fuck me!”

“Not done with you yet.” Trick kissed his way from her breast to the vine on her ribs and then trailed his tongue along the tattoo, following it all the way down to her hip. He bit hard, leaving yet another mark, and soothingly laved it with his tongue. He needed her to be all marked up. It galled him to know that she’d been with others. If things had been different, he could have claimed her long ago. He’d have been the only male to ever kiss her, ever touch her, ever sink inside her.

A growl rattled his chest. “No one else should ever have had you.” He curved his hand around her chin, his grip tight. “No one but me will ever again have you, Frankie. No other mouth will taste you. No other cock will fuck you. No other hands will touch you. Why is that?”

She licked her lips. “Because I’m yours.”

Loosening his grip on her chin, he stroked his thumb along her jaw. “That’s right. Mine. And you won’t forget that, will you?”

“You wouldn’t let me.”

Trick smiled. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Sliding down her body, he settled himself between her thighs and inhaled deeply. “I swear I could get drunk off your scent.” He swiped his tongue between her slick folds and groaned at her sweet and spicy taste. “Fuck, yeah, I like that.”

Keeping a tight grip on her quivering thighs, Trick pretty much devoured her. Every raspy, gritty moan stroked his cock. Every buck of her hips spurred him on. Every rain of honey on his tongue shoved him that much closer to losing his control.

He’d held back with every one of his past partners. Always held a part of himself in check. With Frankie he didn’t have to hold back a damn thing. He could lose himself in her, give her everything, because she was everything.

Trick carefully dipped his thumb into the tight bud of her ass. “Did you save this for me, baby?” She nodded, and his wolf growled in contentment. Trick gave her pussy a long rewarding lick. “My good girl tastes so good.” He draped himself over her and slammed home just as his hands closed around hers, keeping them locked around the iron rungs. He groaned as her inferno-hot pussy squeezed and rippled around him.

She curved into him. “Move.”

“I’ll keep to my word and not claim you, Frankie, but there’s no going back after this. None.” He needed her to understand and accept it. “Mating bond or not, you’re mine. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal,” she rasped. “Now fuck me.”

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” He flexed his cock inside her. “I’ll fuck you until your hot little pussy clamps around my cock and milks me dry. You want to feel my come shoot inside you?” Her pussy rippled again. “Good. Because you’re gonna.” And then he began ramming into her.

Frankie had always liked her sex rough, and she’d never been ashamed of it. This was beyond rough. Each hard punch of his hips was aggressive and ruthless. His cock stretched her until it stung and battered at her womb. Yet this wasn’t just fucking. She knew it. Felt it. Saw it in the dark eyes that stared at her with a gut-twisting naked possessiveness.

She struggled to pull her hands free, wanting to touch him, but his hands kept hers pinned. And she had to admit, a part of her liked it. Liked that all she could do was take the hard pounding he gave her. “Trick, I’m close.”

“I know.” He growled into her ear. “Can you hear your pussy greedily sucking my cock back inside you?” Trick ground his teeth as her pussy heated and fluttered around his dick. “Fucking love that sound.” He slammed harder, faster, pushing her closer to the edge.

Frankie tightened her legs around him. “I’m going to come.”

“You’re going to come for me, Frankie. You’re going to make me come inside you.” He sank his teeth into her neck with a growl. Her spine snapped straight as she screamed, her pussy squeezing and contracting around him. His own release swallowed him whole and, keeping his teeth locked on her neck, he brutally thrust his cock deep and exploded—the white-hot pleasure went on and on and on.

When his brain finally switched back on, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him and keeping his cock snug inside her. A strange kind of peace settled over him, leaving him more sated and content than he’d ever been in his life. And he knew it would be ten times better when he finally claimed her. For now, this was enough.

As she lay over him, boneless, he trailed his fingers over her back. Feeling slight grooves, he lifted his head to see fresh claw marks. He didn’t remember leaving the brands, but he sure as hell liked the look of them. He saw something else there too. Between her shoulder blades was a weeping willow tattoo, its low branches whipping in the breeze. He traced it with his finger as he guessed, “You had this done for your mom.”

“How did you know?” she asked, her voice dreamy.

“She planted a weeping willow tree near your cabin on pack territory. You used to dance around it.”

Propping her chin up on his chest, Frankie frowned. “I don’t remember that. She planted one in Marcia’s flower garden too. Apparently she used to sit under it and read or write in her journal. It was her favorite spot.”

He smoothed his hand over the tattoo on her upper arm. “Why a dream catcher?” She just shrugged. Trick hazarded a guess. “So that you can catch and hold on to your dream of being a sculptor, no matter what others say?”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “I’m not sure I like how well you understand me.”

“Learn to like it.” Bunching her hair in his hand, he kissed her. Tasted. Teased. Savored.

“Speaking of tattoos,” began Frankie, “I like yours.” The tribal tattoo sleeve on his left arm also bled onto the left side of his chest and abs. On the right side of his upper chest was the quote “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” It was a Shakespeare quote, if she remembered rightly. She was just about to ask what had prompted him to choose those tattoos when his thumb breezed over a mark he’d left in the crook of her neck, making her shiver just a little.

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