Page 37 of A Wolf's Bargain

She tried everything she could think of. Every angle, every pressure, and every motion she could imagine. He seemed to love it all, tightening his grip on her hair whenever she did something he liked especially well.

Cillian’s breathing grew ragged. His stream of encouragement faded into deep moans and rough growls. Pride warmed her heart as she realized how close he was, how close she’d brought him. She hadn’t expected to be aroused by this act. Hadn’t at all expected how hot and wet she would feel just by chasing his pleasure. She ached for friction—for something to fill the emptiness inside.

Suddenly, he pulled away, dropped to his knees, and kissed her so hard it took her breath away. “You’re a wonder,Mo ghrá,” he murmured against her lips. “A bloody witch, I swear it, but a wonder.”

Cora returned his kiss, desperate to chase the heat surging through her veins to its end. “Then why’d you stop me? Let me—”

He kissed her once more, biting sharply at her lip before flipping her onto her hands and knees. “Can’t stop now,” he warned. “‘M gonna take you on the ground like a bloody beast because that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You were so hot as you ran, so wet that I could have followed you to the ends of the fucking earth with only that scent.”

She barely had time to register his hands at her hips before he was inside her, hot and thick and everything she’d needed. She dug her fingers into the earth below, desperate for some anchor in the chaos. Her knees chafed against the ground, but the growing pleasure easily overpowered the minor discomfort. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her as he took her again and again. “This is what you wanted,” he repeated, his voice little more than a snarl. “Tell me, wife. Tell me you thought about me fucking you into the ground as you ran from me. Tell me you wanted the beast tonight.”

“I did!” she cried. “I wanted it! Please, Cillian, I’m so—I want to—” Her words, hurried and slurred, faded away as he thrust harder, faster, until she thought she might faint or burst into flames.

After all the teasing and anticipation, her broken cry when she climaxed was as much relief as it was pleasure. She shuddered through the waves as they crashed through her, every thrust a peak until they ebbed and passed. Through the haze of her own climax, she heard Cillian’s shout as he pressed himself close, muscles twitching as he spent himself inside of her.

Cillian slumped against her, rolling to the side at the last moment before he crushed her. They curled into each other in the soft summer grass. Sweat dripped down her face, blessedly cool against her overheated skin. Their heavy breaths blended with the other night forest sounds, the hoot of an owl, and the chirp of crickets.

It was utterly peaceful, and Cora thought that if she never had to leave this place, this moment, she’d be happy for the rest of her life.

Chapter 17

Cillian

Cillian stared at the letter, his eyes scanning the paper as though reading it again might change the words on the page.

English boats spotted off coast in Waterford. 200 men.

Expected arrival in 4 days.

Lord Kilkenny awaits reinforcements.

Come quickly.

“Cillian? Are you well, love?”

Cora’s gentle hand on his shoulder did little to quiet the storm building in his mind. He’d thought they’d have more time. The elders had been favorably impressed with Cora during their visit, and they’d promised to sendClann Abhaile’sguardians as reinforcements to his own men. They hadn’t yet arrived, and though his own men were able warriors, the more luchthonn on their side, the better their chances.

He held the letter out to her. “A message from your father.”

Cillian waited, watching her face pale as she read. She looked up, her brows drawn in tight. “So soon? I thought—I thought we’d have more time.”

He shook his head. “It could have been any time. Edwin’s cracked if he thinks he’ll have surprise on his side. Chances are, he’s trying to cow your father and the other lords into submission. Two hundred men aren’t an army, but it’s more than your father could muster on his own.”

Cora’s eyes flashed angrily. “My father will not kneel to him.”

“Of course not. We’ll keep your people safe,Mo ghrá. I promise.”

Cillian pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. She shuddered, digging her fingers into his wolf’s skin as they embraced. “And you?” she murmured. “Who keeps you safe?”

“Do my ears deceive me?” he teased. “Is my wife actually concerned for my safety? Surely not—unless she still desires to deliver the death blow herself? Something about mounting my head on a stick?”

Cora scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Stop it, you great buffoon! This isn’t a joke!”

He kissed her head, then her lips. “No, love. It’s not a joke. But I’ll not have you worrying yourself into an early grave on my account. I’ll be fine.”

They stood quietly for a moment, holding each other as though there would be no other chance. Cillian held her tight, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. He’d never feared death before. Never flinched at the idea of a fight. All his life, he’d run toward danger and laughed in the face of death and pain. He’d never had anything to lose before.

When they parted, Cora looked up at him with glassy eyes, her mouth fixed into a stubborn frown. “Do you mean to leave today?”