Chapter 25

CIARA

I feel utterly spent. Wrung out to dry.

It's a wonderful feeling, and I've lost all my words as I curl up against Red and let her hold me. In a moment I'll return the favor—I want to, I'm desperate to—but for right now I just want her to hold me.

I've never felt like this. Felt so cherished and so precious, even as I'm having my brains fucked out. It's a special feeling, and one that I don't ever want to be without.

Red is gazing at me when I look at her, and she flushes and goes to turn away, but I stop her, my hand cupping her neck. "Don't go," I whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says, but there's something in her eyes that tells me that she doesn't believe it. She's getting in her head, and no matter who the Dark Goddess is, Red is mine and I won't have her scare herself.

I lean down and circle her left nipple with my tongue, sucking it into my mouth, and as I do she sighs and I feel the tension dissipate. For now. She strokes my head, and I nuzzle up against her hand.

"Ciara," she says, and that tension is back.

"Pause?" I ask.

Shaking her head, Red looks at me. "Pack."

"Pack."

Something about the Pack bonds strengthen every time we speak the word, as if we're feeding it more magic with our very essence. I can sense the rest of the wolves, out there in the forest, feeling vaguely bemused about the foolish two-leggers, being intimate away from home.

"Take everything off?" I ask, and she obliges, soft skin coming into view, and from this angle I can't see her pussy, but I can feel its heat. I need her. I need that heat against me, need to feel how much she's wanted this.

I urge Red to move until she is above my face and I am overwhelmed by the smell of her. I long to be overwhelmed by her taste too, and pull on her legs until she sits on my face and rides my tongue.

I could die here, quite happy.

The tang of her on my tongue is everything I could ever have hoped for and when she grinds against my face, taking her pleasure, I moan against her clit, letting the sensations vibrate.

She gasps, and I go to move away, but when she insists, with a gentle hand I encourage her to move down my body until she's straddling my right leg. I lift my knee ever so slightly. Her breath hitches. I have her just where I want her. She moves, tentatively at first, and then more confidently, and I drink my fill of her.

Red is beautiful as she rides my thigh, completely unaware of the picture she makes. Head thrown back, a goddess in spirit, as well as in name. I would worship at her altar any time. Every now and then she takes an extra deep breath, and I feel her desire paint my skin. She is as wet as I was, as I still am, and I long to bring her pleasure like she did for me.

When she leans down to kiss me, Red says, "Touch me, Ciara, please." And I oblige.

I run my fingers across her back, nails stroking and teasing. She likes it, I can tell, gasping when I repeat the movement, a little rougher this time. "Ciara," she murmurs, and her name on her lips seems almost like a prayer, like I am the goddess, and not she.

"Yes?" I ask.

But it's not a question, not the start of a conversation, merely her saying my name as if it will somehow anchor her. As if I will somehow anchor her.

"I've got you," I whisper, and pull her down to me so I can kiss her.

Her kiss is wild, untamed, and she grinds against my thigh with more and more reckless abandon, whimpering my name over and over.

I've got her.

She may have caught me, but I will always catch her as she shatters, as she comes apart above me.

And with a breathless sigh, she does just that, falls loose-limbed about my neck and gasps her climax against my skin. She trembles, and this woman, this Dark Goddess, feels as delicate as glass in my hands.

I have never seen anything so beautiful.

We lie in the clover, after, saying nothing and everything all at once.

She traces the freckles on my body, a sensual dot-to-dot that makes my giggle and wriggle beneath her touch. And I don't ever stop touching her.

Not touching her would feel like starving.