You smell like me

You smell like me
SHANELLA

I could still smell the rogues on my skin. That stale, coppery scent of aggression and unwashed fur clung to the inside of my nostrils, a foul perfume from my abduction. The pack’s safehouse was a welcome contrast, all warm woodsmoke and the clean, piney scent of the forest, but it wasn’t enough to scrub the memory away. My nerves were still live wires, sparking and raw.

Brad moved around the small, single-room cabin with a predator’s quiet grace, checking the locks on the door and the lone window for the third time. His broad shoulders nearly filled the entire window frame, blocking out the moonlit night.

“We’ll find them at first light,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep in my core. “Terence won’t know what hit him. I’ll make sure he can never touch you again.”

I believed him. Brad’s protective fury was a tangible force in the room, but it was mingling with something else, something older and far more primal. The same raw energy was simmering in my own blood. The fear and adrenaline of the day were curdling, transforming into a sharp, desperate need. The plan for vengeance was a tomorrow thought. Right now, my entire world had shrunk to this room, to him.

He finally turned to face me, his eyes glowing with that faint amber light that betrayed the wolf lying just beneath his skin. His gaze was a physical touch, hot and intense, scanning me from my trembling hands to the rapid pulse beating in my throat.

“You’re still shaking,” he murmured, crossing the room in two long strides.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His hands, so capable of incredible violence, framed my face with a shocking tenderness. His thumbs stroked my cheeks, wiping away a trace of dirt—or maybe a tear—I hadn’t even known was there.

“I need to feel you, Shanella,” he breathed, his voice rough with an emotion that stole the air from my lungs. “I need to know you’re here. That you’re mine. That you’re safe.”

The last of my resolve shattered. “Yes,” was all I could manage, a whispered sigh against his lips.

His mouth crashed down on mine, not with gentleness, but with a claiming, possessive hunger that made my knees buckle. This wasn’t a kiss of comfort; it was a branding. It was his wolf and my wolf recognizing each other, answering the deep, instinctual call to mate, to reconnect, to own. His tongue plunged into my mouth, and I met his fury with my own desperate need, tangling with him, tasting the wildness on him.

My hands clawed at the back of his shirt, fisting the fabric as I pulled him closer. He broke the kiss only to yank the garment over his head, and I drank in the sight of him. Moonlight played over the hard planes of his chest, the defined abs, the scars that mapped a history of battles fought. He was magnificent. Primal.

He made quick, savage work of my clothes, the fabric tearing in his urgency. A growl of pure approval rumbled in his chest as I was bared to him, to the cool night air, to his scorching gaze. He swept an arm across the small table, sending a lantern and a book clattering to the floor, and lifted me onto the cleared surface. The rough wood was cool against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat pouring off his body as he stepped between my thighs.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of my panties, the last barrier, and he looked into my eyes, a final, silent question in that molten amber gaze.

“Please, Brad,” I begged, arching my back, offering myself to him. “I need you. Now.”

A feral grin touched his lips. With one sharp tug, the silk ripped apart, and then his hands were on my hips, dragging me to the very edge of the table. His own jeans were shoved down just enough, and I felt the thick, hot, silken-steel length of him press against my core. I was soaked, aching, every nerve ending screaming for him.

He didn’t tease. He didn’t play. He drove into me in one powerful, breathtaking thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt.

I cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that was pure pleasure-pain as he filled me, stretched me, claimed me completely. My head fell back, my nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. Oh, goddess. Yes.

He stilled for a heartbeat, buried deep, his forehead pressed to mine, his breathing ragged. “Mine,” he growled again, the word a vow, a promise, a prayer.

Then he began to move.

It was a relentless, driving rhythm, a punishment and a benediction all at once. Each powerful thrust of his hips slammed into me, pushing me back against the table, the force of it rattling the legs on the wooden floor. The sounds that filled the small cabin were animalistic: his guttural groans, my desperate whimpers, the sharp, wet slap of our bodies meeting again and again.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles at the small of his back, pulling him even deeper, taking all of him. My fingers raked down his back, and he growled his approval, the sound vibrating through my entire body. The coil of pleasure tightening in my belly was unbearable, a white-hot wire about to snap.

He shifted his angle slightly, and the head of his cock dragged against a spot deep inside me that made me see stars. A broken sob escaped my lips. “Right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…”

His pace became frenzied, his control snapping. He clutched my hips, his fingers pressing bruises into my skin that I would wear proudly tomorrow, marks of his possession. His thrusts became shorter, harder, more frantic. I could feel the tension coiling in his own body, the impending eruption.

I looked up into his face, his features twisted in a mask of pure, untamed ecstasy. The sight of him, so lost in the feel of me, was the final push I needed. The coil snapped.

My orgasm ripped through me with the force of a summer storm, violent and all-consuming. Pleasure, hot and electric, seared through every vein, every nerve ending. I clenched around him, milking his length, my body convulsing as wave after wave of bliss tore a scream from my throat.

Feeling me climax pushed him over the edge. With a roar that was more beast than man, he slammed into me one final, devastating time and spilled himself deep inside me, his hot release triggering a second, smaller shockwave within my own shuddering body. He collapsed over me, his full weight pressing me into the table, both of us slick with sweat and panting, our hearts hammering against each other in a frantic,synchronizeized rhythm.

Finally, he shifted, lifting his weight off me but not pulling out, keeping us connected. He nuzzled into the crook of my neck, his lips soft against my pounding pulse. His voice was a hoarse, satisfied whisper in the dark.

“Now you smell like me.”