Page 35 of A Wolf's Bargain

“Cillian! That’s enough, now!” she said, her tone half reproach and half nervous laughter. “You great beast! I’ll smell like a dog all night!”

The wolf pulled back and sat on its haunches. If wolves could look smug, she’d swear this one did. Perhaps it was the man in him. “Oh, that’s fine then, isn’t it? Scare your poor wife half to death, why don’t you? I thought you were going to eat me!”

Before that moment, she’d never have believed that a wolf could smirk. Slowly, she got to her feet, brushed the dirt and debris off of her dress, and approached him. “Now, you sit there like a good dog, eh? Any more of that foolishness, and I’ll find a bigger stick!” She lifted a hand to show her intent, watching for any sign that her touch wouldn’t be welcome, but the wolf remained seated and calm.

Carefully, she reached up and buried her fingers into the thick fur near his scruff.

“Oh... it’s so soft! I wasn’t—well, I don’t know what I expected. Good to know we can actually make a decent rug out of you if you misbehave too much.”

The wolf huffed again and bumped her shoulder with his enormous head. The last time she’d seen Cillian in this form, she’d been too afraid—too shocked—to really appreciate the beauty of it. His jaws might be large enough to fit around her head, but the white and gray fur around his muzzle was soft. His eyes were the same icy blue that they always were, but somehow, they were brighter despite the dim moonlight. Thick, dark fur fell like his own long hair around his shoulders, and she gave in to the impulse to run her fingers through the strands.

He was nothing short of magnificent. There was enough of a human shape to his chest and limbs that he seemed familiar, but no one would ever mistake him for anything but a wild beast.

“It was a good hunt,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur near his ears. “If I must be chased, I’d like it to always be you.”

The fur she’d nuzzled quivered against her cheek for a moment, then fell away. It was a strange sensation, and Cora jerked back in time to see the wolf’s face become her husband’s again. He tugged the wolf skin off of his head, letting it fall to the ground at their feet.

“Oh, I’ll chase you,Mo Chroí. Till death comes for me, I’ll chase you.”

Strong arms circled her, pulling her close. The excitement of the chase still buzzed under her skin, making her reckless and impatient. On their wedding night, she’d had the many rules of her world echoing in her mind. She’d been afraid to enjoy herself because she’d been told all her life that a wife ought to be coy and obedient in the bedroom. Husbands didn’t appreciate a greedy wife or one who’d seek her own pleasure. They’d call her difficult at best, wanton at worst.

Whoever had come up with those rules had never met her husband. Her wolf had shown his worth in the hunt, and she intended to enjoy being caught and devoured.

Chapter 16

Cora

On their wedding night, Cillian had taken his time with her, coaxing her arousal like a small flame from a pile of kindling. She’d needed that from him, though she wouldn’t have known how to ask. Thankfully, he’d seemed to know without having to be told and had tempted and teased her until that tiny flame became an inferno. It had been a slow process, one full of hesitation on her part as she fought her desires. When she’d finally surrendered, it had felt like a raging river breaking through a dam. A stronger force had overpowered her, and she had been helpless against the whirling, surging chaos he had created in her body.

This was nothing like her wedding night. There were no soft kisses or teasing touches. There were no tender words to pull her out of her fear. From the moment she’d taken her first step away from him, she’d known how the night would end. Desire had throbbed, warm and thick, under her skin at the thought of what was to come. Her blood had raced through her veins as she moved through the trees, heated by the chase. By the time he’d caught her, she’d been ready to tackle him to the ground herself. Now, she was glad that she hadn’t. The anticipation built with every word and heated glance, making the wait as sweet as it was painful.

Cillian’s kiss was almost frenzied when he bent his head to hers. He didn't use gentle nips or slow teasing with his tongue like before. She answered his rough groans and wandering hands with her own. She cupped his cheeks, fingers buried in his beard so that he couldn’t pull away. He bit at her lower lip,drawing it between his teeth. The initial discomfort of his brief bite quickly changed into a hot and urgent feeling between her legs.

“You fancy this dress?” he asked between kisses.

“What?” she replied breathlessly, sure she’d heard him wrong. “What do you mean?”

He tugged the laces in an oddly alluring way. “This dress, lass. Is it a favorite?”

“I—I don’t know. Yes? I like it well enough. Why are we talking about my dress?”

He growled, the sound similar to what he’d done as a wolf. “You’d best remove it fast, then. Make me wait much longer, and I might just rip it off. I can smell how wet you are—how much you loved the hunt. Did you know that? Did you know that every time you think an especially pleasant thought about me, I can smell it?”

Cora shook her head, moaning when he cupped a breast and squeezed it through her dress. His talk of ripping up her clothing shouldn’t be arousing. It was wasteful—and possibly painful—but in her mind’s eye, she could see it all. The way he’d take hold of the dress and rip it from top to bottom. The way her breasts would spill out, and her thighs would quiver in anticipation.

There was only one thing keeping her from allowing him to make good on his threat. While Cillian could frolic back to camp as a wolf, she would be forced to run naked through the woods like a goblin.

“Fine, fine. Have some patience, you beast.” Her fingers worked the ties and laces as quickly as possible, slowed only by the way he brushed his nose against her ear.

Cillian laughed darkly, his hot breath against her face sending shivers up her spine. “I am a beast, wife. I hunted you as a beast and caught you. Do you expect patience when I can practically taste how eager you are?”

Cora swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat; her fingers unable to hold their grip on the ties of her kirtle. He’d mentioned ‘tasting’ her before. On their wedding night, he’d said he’d toss her legs over his shoulders and feast on her. Cora had replayed those words in her mind more times than she could count. Without fail, the images they created had her pressing her thighs together for relief. Now she moaned when the image shifted. Suddenly, the Cillian in her mind stared up at her from between her legs, his teeth long and sharp and his eyes the bright, glowing blue of his wolf.

“Oooh, my darling wife liked that... is it the beast you want,Mo ghrá, or my mouth?”

How was she meant to answer that? It must be a sin to even admit she’d thought of either of those things, let alone both of them together. “I—I want—”

“Tell me, Cora,” he whispered, his lips pressed against her ear, his hands busy with the last ties at her chest. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything, lass. Everything I have is yours.”