Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jessa
BRANDON WOKE ME with a gentle kiss this morning. Still tired after spending an afternoon and night learning about each other, I had murmured demands for his purr.
He purred as he kissed me, but when I woke up again, he was gone.
I feel different today. The whole world feels different, truth be told.
Rising from the bed, I wash in cool water, grateful to find the jug and bowl waiting together with a new block of soap and a soft woolen towel. There is a dresser opposite the bed, and when I open the top drawer, I find my clothes neatly tucked inside.
I smile.
Dressing swiftly, I open the shutter to let the morning sunshine in. Outside is a small vegetable patch. I can’t believe that all this is mine.
My smile fades as recent events come crashing back. The terrible swishing sound of the switch and Hazel’s cries of pain.
The fear.
The hope.
Gage when he found we had been snatched.
Gage as he carried Hazel and me to the outbuilding for safety.
Gage as he stood, bloody, over the body of his father.
I shiver.
He is a fearsome Alpha, and yet he has only ever been gentle with me.
I wonder where the knife is? I think Brandon knows whose it is. Will he throw it away? He might. He probably should. I still want to keep it, the most ridiculous reminder, yet it once belonged to Gage, and I want it.
I sigh.
This is not over nor settled. Deep in my belly is the fluttering, the nervousness, and the anticipation of something more.
“You’re up!”
Spinning, I find Brandon in the entrance to the bedroom. Well-worn boots adorn his feet, leather pants molded to his muscular thighs, and leather jerkin that does nothing to disguise his beautiful body. He is mine, I realize, and I, his.
“I don’t want to be wedded,” I blurt out. Goddess, I am a tactless lass.
He frowns. “You don’t?”
I feel my face flush. I need to explain myself before he comes to the wrong conclusion. Where this wanton side of me comes from, I cannot say. But every moment with Brandon brings it closer to the surface. “I want you to claim me,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Like you spoke of yesterday. I want you to bite me as you rut me and to mark me for all to see. Some shifters still do this, even if they are a Beta. It would be acceptable.”
“Fuck!” he mutters roughly. His eyes darken and nostrils flare in a way that tells me he likes the sound of this.
My pussy clenches. It is a little sore, but I like the soreness. I like it in a way that feels improper for a good Beta lass. The slickness begins to pulse. His gaze drops to the crux of my thighs, hidden from his view by my skirt.
“Are you sore?”
My lips tug up. “Not enough to stop.”
“Good,” he says, stepping up to me. Arm clasping around my waist, he takes my lips in a searing kiss full of hunger like he wants to devour me whole.
My hands fumble with the ties on his leather jerkin. He takes over, breaking the kiss long enough to tug his jerkin up and off. My top follows it to the floor. We kiss, my hands roaming over the muscular plains of his chest, shoulders, and back as his hands make light work of the ties on my skirt.
As it drops to the floor, he kicks his boots off, even as we chase the next kiss.
“Bed, now,” he growls, shoving pants down his muscular thighs and taking his cock in hand.
But I don’t do as he says. Instead, I drop to my knees. I have heard lasses talking about sucking a man. Some liked it, and some didn’t. But all agreed that cum did not taste very nice.
I am greedy for it. I cannot get enough. From the first taste that evening in the woods before the great oak tree, I was addicted. When it hits my belly, it is like a swarm of butterflies settling low. Like moon berries, only better.
“Please,” I say. “I want to taste you. It needs to be part of the claiming.”
His cheeks flush. “Taste all you want, Jessa. Afterward, I will taste you. Then I will fill you and claim you in the way of a wolf.”
His cock is long, thick, and ruddy. It leaks in anticipation. Closing my hand around the base, I gently lap the offering from the crown.
We both groan. His hands tangle in my hair, holding me gently as I enclose the tip in my mouth. My tongue lashes the head, swirling all around the leaking tip. It tastes a little salty, and of him. My belly tumbles in anticipation as I begin to bob my head, sucking him as deeply as I can.
His groan dips to a growl that makes my pussy quiver. Fingers tightening, he encourages me to go deeper until the head of this cock brushes the back of my throat.
I want more. I always want more, deeper, harder—more.
My other hand skims over his thigh until it reaches the sacs of his balls. The rough hair is springy under my fingers; they tighten as I gently play.
“I’m going to come,” he says, voice low and growly.
I suck deeper still, taking the head down my throat a little way. My throat and jaw aches, air becomes a luxury to my starved lungs, but I don’t care. His cock pulses and his hands tighten. Enthralled by the feel and scent of him, slick begins to trickle down my thighs. Moving both hands to his thighs, I score my nails down the flesh, wild for tasting him.
With a ragged groan, he comes, shooting thick cum into my throat, and filling me. I choke a little, gulping as much as I can. I keep sucking and licking until there is no more, and his legs begin to tremble.
As my lips pop off, I find him watching me with a dark expression that sets a fire under my skin. Hands under my arms, he lifts me, scooping me up and placing me upon the bed as if I were the most precious thing.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you more than I thought it was possible to love a person. Now, I am going to love your body to show you. Afterward, I will claim you, exactly as you have asked.”
