h4Chapter 117: A Wicked Little Temptress/h4

    Eira’s POV

    I nodded again, my heart hammering so hard I thought he could feel it against his chest.

    "Words!" His voice was low,manding, and impossibly intoxicating.

    "I... want to," I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

    I meant it—I had always wondered how it felt, and after reading that book, the curiosity had only grown, igniting something fierce and desperate inside me.

    His fingers tightened slightly on my chin, tilting my face to his, and without a second’s warning, his lips crashed onto mine. This kiss was nothing like our first. That one was gentle, patient, exploring. This—this was raw, unrelenting, as though he had been starving for me.

    His mouth moved over mine with a force that stole my breath, his tongue teasing mine, iming, marking, leaving me gasping. I was trapped between the mirror behind me and his tall, powerful body before me, utterly consumed by the intensity of his desire.

    I responded with equal hunger, tasting him, inhaling his scent, feeling every bit of it. His hands roamed over my back, slipping beneath my nightdress, tracing the delicate skin that shivered beneath his touch.

    My own hands clutched the sides of his shirt, grounding myself, keeping up with the rhythm of his desperate, demanding kiss. I wanted him to know how much I had missed him, craved him, needed him.

    His lips parted just enough to whisper against my lips. "Every moment away from you was driving me crazy..." his voice rough, almost ragged. "All I wanted... was to return to you, to have you whole...It’s all your fault... now you have to make up for it."

    My dewy eyes met his, and I saw it there—the Alpha, filled with hunger, raw lust, demanding more than just a kiss. And I was no different.

    A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest, vibrating against me as he captured my lips again, fiercer this time, teeth grazing, biting, tasting, iming, my body pressed into him entirely.

    Slowly, deliberately, he moved, his mouth trailing down my neck, licking, sucking, grazing with teeth in the most exquisite torment. A moan slipped from me before I could stop it, and I covered my mouth with my hand, cheeks burning.

    "Your grandparents are not home," he murmured, teeth sinking lightly into my skin, teasing, leaving little marks. "No one can hear you but me. Let me hear you."

    He bit harder, more insistently this time, and I could no longer hold back. My hands fell away from my mouth, and I surrendered to the sounds escaping me. Embarrassed, helpless, utterly undone, I couldn’t stay quiet with the way he was touching me, awakening every nerve, every secret craving I had buried inside.

    His hand moved toward the buttons of my nightdress at my chest, and instinctively, I gripped his wrist. A flicker of fear mixed with embarrassment shot through me, but he didn’t falter.

    He paused, his gaze locking with mine, dark and unreadable, before the same hand slid over my breast, cupping it firmly and squeeze it, letting me know what I was going to miss feeling.

    A shiver ran through me, and a soft moan escaped. His thumb circled over my hardened nipple, teasing. "Still don’t want it?" he asked, voice low and dangerous, leaving me exposed, speechless, utterly at his mercy.

    Then, unexpectedly, he lifted me with ease, seating me on the edge of the study table by the window. With a casual sweep, he pushed the books aside, letting them tter to the floor. Taking my silence as permission, he leaned closer, lips brushing mine in gentle, coaxing pecks. "It’s alright," he murmured, and with deliberate slowness, parted the sides of my top, revealing me further.

    My breath hitched, ragged and shallow, as his eyes roamed over my chest. A part of me wanted to cover myself, but his gaze silenced any protest.

    "Beautiful," he whispered as he gazed my soft and round breasts and pushed me slightly back, my hands bracing against the table.

    He leaned forward, both hands nted on either side of me, trapping me in between them. "Reminded of something?" he asked.

    Of course it did. That book, the one I’d read and imagined endlessly—the male lead had done the same. And we both knew where it led next.

    His hand slid over my cheek, fingers threading through my hair until they settled at the back of my head. A sharp tug of hair made me arch my neck, a sting of pain mingling with a thrill.

    My pulse raced, my body already aching for more. Damn, I thought, I am such a lustful pervert, lost in my own teenage fantasies.

    His mouth descended hungrily, lips and teeth grazing the soft curve of my neck, tracing a path down to my chest. One hand cupped my breast, his mouth devouring the other.

    I gasped, loud and unrestrained, followed by a moan that surprised even me.

    What was he doing to me?

    I could swear I felt his lips curved into smile smile against my skin as he paused, before sinking back to im it again. His lips moved with merciless intent, sucking, nipping, leaving me trembling and breathless under him.

    Slowly, deliberately, he parted my legs, positioning himself between them. He pressed me further onto the table, continuing his sweet assault on my breast, taking turns on each one of them.

    With my back arched, I had no choice but to surrender, my defenses crumbling under the heat of the moment. My hands clutched his shoulders, trying to steady myself against the dangerous pleasure coursing through me. My legs moved on their own, wrapping instinctively around him, pulling him closer without thought.

    God, I wanted him—wanted him so close, so unbearably near—and the thought both thrilled and terrified me.

    After a while, he pulled back slightly, lifting his gaze to meet mine. His eyes were dark, smoldering, and impossible to look away from.

    "You look exactly the way I’ve imagined every night," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, "a wicked little temptress."

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