Chapter 197 Jenna POV

Chapter 197 Jenna POV
I push my bedroom doors open and step inside. We’re alone tonight, the entire house emptied of staff, of noise, of anything that isn’t us. Nine long months of tension, of teasing, of almosts. I’ve been waiting for this, aching for it, and now that it’s here my chest tightens. Not fear, just nerves, sharp anticipation clawing up my spine.

Are we going to be compatible?

The thought is ridiculous. We’ve been building toward this forever. Still, it lingers.

I glance over my shoulder at Frankie. He’s loosening his bowtie, already halfway undone, his jacket discarded somewhere behind him. The top buttons of his dress shirt hang open, exposing tattooed skin that makes my mouth go dry.

I turn back to the window, staring out at the dark ocean. Moonlight ripples across the waves, silver and hypnotic. I slide the door open, letting the cool night air spill in.

Heat floods my back a second later. His scent wraps around me, thick and intoxicating. Frankie’s fingertips trail from my shoulder down to my hand, barely brushing my skin—and still it sets me on fire.

"Did you see Lilith yawning?" I blurt, my voice thin.

"Why are we talking about Lilith?" he mutters, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around.

My eyes drag over him and I freeze. He’s bare now. Completely. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"What’s wrong, sunflower?" he asks softly. "Second thoughts? You don’t want this?" He gestures between us, already stepping back.

Snap out of it, Jenna.

I step toward him as he retreats, refusing to let the moment slip. Reaching behind me, I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor.

Frankie goes still.

Then a wicked grin spreads across his face.

He moves fast—too fast for me to think. One second I’m standing, the next I’m lifted, thrown onto the bed, breath knocked out of me. He’s changed so much, grown into something bold, something hungry. His lips crash against mine, his hand gripping my neck, tilting me so he can take more. I melt into it, eyes closing as sparks burst under my skin.

Our bond is still pinched, muted by choice. We agreed—wait until tomorrow, give ourselves one night of privacy, us with our own thoughts.

But nothing about this feels restrained.

His hands roam, exploring every inch of me like he’s memorizing it. Learning how I react, what makes me gasp, what makes me arch. His mouth leaves mine, dragging down my body—kissing, licking, nipping.

Slow. Torturous.

He settles between my thighs, spreading me open. My breath catches.

Then he dives in.

My whole body locks up as pleasure hits, sharp, overwhelming. Pressure builds fast, every movement of his tongue precise, deliberate. His fingers follow, sliding inside me, curling, finding every sensitive spot like he already knows me.

"Fuck..." I gasp, my legs trembling as I try to close them.

He laughs against me, low and dark, forcing me open wider.

It’s too much. Too good.

My hand drops to his head, pushing him deeper as I grind against his face. The tension snaps...

And I come.

Hard.

My body freezes, back arching as sparks shoot down my spine. He doesn’t stop, dragging it out, pulling every last wave from me.

"Frankie!" I moan.

"Yes, sunflower?" he murmurs, glancing up, his mouth still working me.

"Dick... now."

He laughs softly, moving up onto his knees. His hand wraps around himself, guiding slowly. For a second, he hesitates.

I look at him—really look—and see it. His hand trembling.

My chest tightens. Am I rushing him? Is this too much?

"Are you okay?" I rush out. "We can stop—we don’t have to—Frankie, what’s wrong?" I spiral, words tumbling over each other.

He silences me with a finger against my lips. "I’m fine," he says.

But his eyes flicker. I brace on my elbows, already preparing to stop—

Then he thrusts.

Hard.

A groan rips out of him as he buries himself inside me. My eyes snap open, a gasp tearing from my throat at the sudden stretch.

I look up at him, searching his face.

"I’m good," he pants, starting to move, slow at first. "So good... "

His eyes roll back, pleasure washing over him.

A smile pulls at my lips despite everything.

He picks up speed, each thrust deeper, stronger. The stretch burns in the best way, my body adjusting, opening for him. It feels like he’s everywhere, like he’s pushing into something deeper than just my body. My hands grip him, dragging him closer, needing more.

More.
More.
More.

My walls tighten around him, pulling a groan from his throat. His arm slides behind me, lifting me off the bed, changing the angle—deeper, impossibly deeper.

His face shifts.

Snow. His wolf pushes forward, canines flashing before they sink into my skin. Pain blooms sharp, then melts into pleasure so intense it wrecks me.

I come again, harder than before, my entire body shaking as blood trickles down my chest.

Frankie pulls back, kissing the mark, soothing it.

Something inside me snaps loose. I flip us over, moving on instinct, something wild taking over. He laughs beneath me as I drag him up, our bodies aligning, legs tangled. We move together now, perfectly in sync.

Deeper.

Closer.

He grunts, his hands gripping my hips, then my skin, pinching, grounding himself. His body tenses, he swells inside me, stretching me further, almost too much.

"Fuck..." he breathes.

He’s close.

I feel it.

One, two, three thrusts—

I let Jean rise. My face shifts as I lean down, teeth sinking into him. His blood floods my mouth, hot and intoxicating. At the same moment, he spills inside me, heat filling me completely.

Everything locks into place. The bond. Clear. Solid. Unbreakable. My mind sharpens, the world snapping into focus in a way it never has before.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, breathless.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I... I don’t even know how to describe it."

He smiles, cupping my face, pressing a soft kiss to my lips—gentle, almost delicate, like the petals of a peach blossom.

I pull back slowly, letting him slip out of me.

He frowns, confused—

Until I lick my lips. Understanding hits, and he laughs. I’ve waited too long for this. I lower myself between his legs, wrapping my lips around his perfect cock. His laughter cuts off instantly, replaced by a sharp inhale.

"Fuck me," he groans as I take him deeper, pushing until he hits the back of my throat.

He’s big. Thick. My hands wrap around his base as I move over him, choking slightly, spit coating everything—my fingers, his length, dripping down to his balls.

I work him steadily, relentlessly, pulling every sound from him. Every strained moan, every broken breath.

I want all of it.

Because he’s mine.

All mine.