Chapter 169 My Angel | 062
AZREN
Noelle takes my hand as she gets out of the car. My brows furrow when I realize that she's a lot warmer than usual. Once she's off the curb, I lift a hand, resting my palm on her forehead. My gut tightens as unease sets in.
"What is it?" My wife asks softly, blinking up at me with those adorable pair of amber eyes.
"You have a fever. It's slight, but it's there. Maybe we should reschedule—"
She interrupts me right away. "No!"
I blink at her, and she lowers her gaze, the flush in her cheeks darkening just a little.
"I've been looking forward to shopping with you like this, Azren. I promise to tell you if I start to feel sick."
I stare at her for a moment, already softening. But then, the thought of her suddenly collapsing strikes me, and I shake my head.
"We can't—"
I don't even get the words out. In a blink of an eye, she's reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss me soft and sweet. Fuck...
My arms wrap around her waist instinctively, pulling her body close. She's so fucking soft. I want to hold her forever.
"Trust me, yeah?" She whispers breathlessly when the kiss ends, and I find myself nodding instantly.
I think she just rewired my brain with that enchanting kiss of hers.
The boutique doors open before we even reach them, and the moment we step inside, Noelle slows. Then she stops. Her hand tightens in mine.
"Azren..."
I follow her gaze. The entire place is empty. There are no customers. No noise either.
Rows of carefully curated racks, polished floors, soft lighting and a line of approaching attendants await my queen. She seems even more dumbfounded as she takes in the sight of it all.
"All yours," I whisper.
She turns to look at me, her eyes wide. "You—what did you do?"
"Rented it," I shrug.
Her mouth falls open. "You rented a boutique."
"Yes."
"Azren—"
"You needed clothes."
"That doesn't mean you—"
"It does."
She stares at me like I've lost my mind. She has no clue. My brain might be functioning, but all of its functions have been narrowed to one command.
To please her.
Her cheeks flush, pink spreading slowly across her face as the attendants gather around her, greeting her like she's royalty. Of course she is.
"Ma'am, we've prepared a selection—"
"This way, please—"
"Would you like refreshments?"
Noelle looks overwhelmed for a second. Then she glances back at me. I nod once, giving her the silent assurance that she needs.
Then I drop into the plush chair they've set out for me, legs spread, my arms draped over the backrest.
And wait.
Every rustle of fabric behind that curtain is torture.
Every soft laugh she lets out when an attendant compliments her is gasoline on the fire already burning through my veins.
When she steps out, she's barefoot, wearing a dress that hugs her just enough. Nervously, she runs her hands over the swell of her luscious hips.
"Well?"
I don't answer immediately. Because I'm too busy looking. Gods, she's a sight for sore eyes.
"Give me a slow spin, Angel," I tell her, and she nods.
Then slowly, she moves, her ass jiggling softly. Fuck me sideways. I whistle slowly, my eyes greedily tracking her curves.
"Fuck me, baby girl. The clothes are lucky they get to touch you at all," I drawl and she chuckles.
"Careful, if you keep looking at me like that, shopping isn't the only thing we'll be doing here," she says.
I smirk, drumming my fingers on the armrest. Is my baby teasing me now?
"Don't tempt me, Noelle. You know I have absolutely no restraints when it comes to you," I purr, and she snorts, disappearing into the curtain.
The next couple of minutes...or is it hours? Whatever. It feels like punishment. Absolute madness. I'm so hard, it practically hurts. And Noelle keeps rubbing it in my face. She's grown even bolder, wearing tight jeans and halter neck tops with no fucking bra. I'm dying here but what does she do?
Shake her ass and sway her bloody hips.
"You know what? Fuck it. Pack up everything," I tell one of the attendants.
She beams. "Yes, sir."
"Noelle, you win, okay?" I call out. She's still behind that curtain, probably plotting to send me into a cardiac arrest.
When she doesn't respond, I frown.
"Angel?"
My heart skips a beat when I'm greeted with complete silence. Pulse racing, I hurry over, flinging the curtains open. And holy fuck...
I suddenly forget how to breathe.
My wife is wearing sinful red. A lethal lingerie set that instantly sends my blood rushing southward. I practically bite my tongue to keep from groaning obscene words.
She's not even trying to pose seductively. She's simply standing there, one hand resting uncertainly on the wall, the other brushing self-consciously at the underside of her breast as though she’s checking whether the lace is still containing her. It isn't, not really.
A growl rumbles from my chest when I smell it. The intoxicating scent oozing from her in electrifying waves. Realization hits me like a truck.
She's... in heat. That explains the strange fever. Her wolf is awakening after all.
Noelle's eyes meet mine, shimmering.
"Are you okay over there, husband?" She's teasing again, but I can hear the tremor in her voice. Her breathing is shallower than usual, lifting those heavy breasts with every inhale until the lace looks ready to surrender.
I force words past the knot in my throat. "Turn."
She obeys slowly.
The back view is worse. In the best possible way.
The thong is nothing more than a thin strip of red disappearing between cheeks I want to sink my fangs into.
She completes the turn and faces me again. Her nipples are tight little peaks pressing insistently against lace. Her thighs press together subtly, but I notice it. Her knees are on the verge of buckling just from the weight of my stare.
I catch her chin, tilting her face up.
"Are you trying to kill me?" I demand, and she swallows hard, her eyes glassy.
"Maybe."
I drag my thumb across her bottom lip. "You're shaking."
She doesn't say a word. She just stares, breathless.
I trace the edge of the lace at her ribs, my thumbs brushing just under her breasts, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Her nipples are already so hard, straining against the thin fabric.
I let one thumb drift higher, circling the underside of her breast, not quite touching her swollen peaks.
She shivers. "Azren..."
I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. I nip at her earlobe, and she shivers.
Dammit.
She's so sensitive. At this rate, I won't be able to hold back.
"You like making me lose control, don't you?" I growl, my cock throbbing harder.
She whimpers.
I drag my thumb higher, grazing the edge of her areola through the lace, teasing, never quite giving her what she wants.
Her back arches, pressing her breast into my hand.
"Please..."
I smile against her ear. "Please, what, Angel?"
She makes a small, frustrated sound. "Touch me."
I circle again, closer this time, but still not there. "Where?"
She squirms. "My... my nipples. Please."
Shit. Has her voice always been that pretty?
"Say it again," I utter hoarsely.
Her voice cracks. "Please touch my nipples."
I finally let my thumb brush over the hard peak. She gasps, her hips jerking forward. I roll it gently between my thumb and forefinger, tugging just enough to make her moan.
"Good girl," I murmur.
I switch to the other breast, giving it the same slow, teasing attention. Her breathing turns ragged, little whimpers slipping out every time I pinch lightly.
She's trembling now.
"Azren... please..."
I kiss the corner of her jaw.
"Please, what?"
"More," she breathes. "I need more."
I slide one hand down her stomach, torturously slow, my fingers tracing the edge of the belt, then dipping lower to brush the lace between her thighs.
She's soaked through. I groan against her neck.
"Fuck, baby..."
I press the heel of my palm against her clit, letting her feel the pressure. She bucks, trying to grind against me.
I pull back slightly.
"Ah-ah," I tease. "Not yet."
She whines. "Please..."
I kiss her throat, trailing slow open-mouthed kisses, while my fingers trace the edge of the lace, never quite slipping underneath.
"You want me to touch you here?" I whisper, pressing just enough to make her gasp.
"Yes—god, yes—"
I let one finger slide under the lace, brushing her clit in light, feather-soft circles.
She gasps. "Azren—please—"
I kiss her hard, absorbing her moans, while my finger keeps those slow, maddening circles.
She's shaking so hard I have to wrap my other arm around her waist to keep her upright.
"Beg me again," I growl against her mouth.
"Please," she sobs. "Please touch me properly. Please make me come. I need it—need you—"
I slip one finger inside her slow and deep. She moans loudly, her entrance fluttering around me. I add a second finger, curling them, stroking the spot that makes her cry out.
My thumb finds her clit again. She's panting into my mouth, her hips bucking, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"Come for me, Angel," I rasp. As if on cue, she shudders, letting out a hoarse cry.
She’s so fucking wet, all I can think of is burying myself balls deep in all that slippery sweetness.
But then the familiar scent of incense drifts in, assaulting my senses. Goddamnit.