Chapter 147 147
Aurélie POV
Keeping my gaze locked on his, I move slowly, deliberately, pressing a trail of kisses along his neck… down to his collarbone… across his chest. My pulse quickens, blood rushing hot and fast through my veins, igniting every nerve, setting my body alight from the inside out.
My mouth continues its descent.
Over the hard planes of his stomach, tracing every ridge of his six-pack, until I reach the sharp line of his Adonis belt the final mark of his godlike frame.
“Aurélie…”
My name falls from his lips like a prayer, a low moan of satisfaction drawn out by my touch.
I keep going, my kisses finding his hardened length. I wrap my hand around him and lick the tip, slow and deliberate. His head falls back instantly as my hand begins to move, my grip firm but teasing.
His hands come up suddenly, gripping my face, pulling me back to him as his tongue invades my mouth. Our tongues collide, circle, taste claiming each other while my hand never slows. I want him inside me. I want the fullness, the ache, the knowledge that only he can give me that pleasure.
The mate bond hums and tightens, magic surging between us. Tingles explode over my skin, over his, as his breathing turns ragged. I can see it in his eyes wide, desperate. He’s close.
I want to taste him.
I lower myself again, my lips returning to him as I quicken my pace, licking and stroking until his control shatters. I watch him, the satisfaction of knowing I did this flooding me as he spills into my mouth.
He tastes like his scent leather and warmth, sweet with a sharp citrus edge. His broken moan sends a pulse of heat straight to my core.
“Aurélie…”
His breathing is sharp as he pulls me back up, kissing me deeply, tasting himself on my lips.
“Sshhh… we should head back,” I murmur, smiling softly, letting him know words aren’t needed right now.
He rises and steps around me, giving me an unapologetic view of his perfectly sculpted ass.
The tattoo across his back is impossible to miss stretching from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, rib to rib. I’ve never been able to decide whether it’s an angel or an eagle something in between but what always catches my attention is the name inked beneath one of the wings.
I’m close enough to read it clearly now.
For years, I assumed the “G” stood for Geneviève.
But it doesn’t.
It reads Gabrielle.
Who is Gabrielle?
He lifts me easily, pulling me upright and wrapping his arms around my back, tucking me against him.
“That was hot,” he says with a smirk, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You’re full of surprises, Alpha.”
There isn’t a single wearable item of clothing left in the barn.
Théo has been gone for some time now, even his scent faded. When we shifted, our clothes shredded completely. Thankfully, my car keys survived and my phone lies on the ground nearby. I must have dropped it earlier, lost in shock.
“We’ll have to grab the spare clothes from the car,” I say.
“I’m not wearing your clothes.”
Damien laughs softly, playful, gripping my hips and pulling me closer.
“The male ones are Fabrice’s,” I correct him. Fabrice and I always keep spare clothes in the boot.
“I think I’d prefer the female ones,” he says thoughtfully. “Alright wait here. I’ll go get them.”
“What? No”
“You’ll be naked,” he cuts in, hands turning possessive as they slide up and down my arms. “I don’t want even the possibility of another man seeing you like this. Have you seen you naked?”
“I can shift and change by the car,” I argue. “It’s quiet no one’s around.”
We both shift back into our wolves. I carefully carry my phone and keys between my teeth as Damien’s wolf moves ahead of mine, clearing the path.
He’s magnificent huge, commanding, the largest beast for miles.
I hear the heavy thud of his paws against the earth before he slows, falling into step beside me. He nudges my side, rubbing his scent into my fur.
We reach the car and shift back into human form.
I burst out laughing as he pulls on clothes that are clearly too small. Fabrice isn’t small by any stretch but Damien is an alpha. A king.
The trousers are tight and sit far too high on his ankles. The T-shirt goes on last, clinging to him as he turns slightly away to close the boot.
That name catches my eye again.
I don’t hesitate.
“Who is Gabrielle?” I ask bluntly, trusting that whatever awkwardness once stood between us has long since burned away.
His back stiffens before he turns, meeting my eyes.
“My mother.”