Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
My mate immediately grabs a handful of the gauzy material of my dress and rips it away from my body.
"All right, then," I whisper. "You want to be rough? I like rough, too."
I lift a hand and grab a handful of his streaming, tangled hair, and yank. Not hard, just enough to get his attention. His eyes flare, and heat surges through his thoughts. He liked that. Leaning in, he forces my head back again, then rubs his face along my throat. His fangs scrape at my skin, teasing, and I bite back a moan. There's an edge of danger, but at the same time, I feel like Azar won't hurt me. I'm his mate. He's just playing rough.
A moment later, he rips another handful of my dress, and then the straps snap and the entire thing flutters to my feet. I stand in the street in nothing but a pair of panties and my boots, and his nostrils flare as he looks me up and down. I tug on his hair as his teeth scrape over my throat again. "You remember who I am?" I pant. "You remember me?"
Mine, he purrs through my head, dark and dangerous.
That's right. Yours.
Azar growls, and I realize he heard that. He heard my thoughts. He hauls me against him, his claws digging into my skin, and looks me up and down with new, fresh interest, as if he's seeing me for the first time. He focuses on my panties, and one claw teases at the waistband.
"That's right, you’re kind is obsessed with panties, aren't you?" I pant. "You want to rip mine off? Go ahead." I fill my head with a mental image of just that, and he growls again, his eyes meeting mine.
Instead of tearing my panties free, though, he slides one wicked claw down the gusset of my panties and presses down, rubbing against the seam of my pussy. I gasp, startled at the intense sensation, and rock against his hand.
Azar growls again, his thoughts growing possessive and steadily more focused on me. "It's been a while since you've eaten some good pussy, huh?" I whisper, rubbing against his hand. "You hungry, love? You want a taste?"
And because I don't want him flinging me down on the road, I send him a mental image of me on the hood of one of the nearby cars, his head between my thighs.
Yessss.
His mental voice is like a streak of light. He scoops me up into his arms and hauls me across the desolate highway, looking for a car to place me upon. I cling to his shoulders, holding tight, and when I see an older-make car with a longer hood, I point at it. "That one."
No sooner do I point it out than Azar gently places me atop it, his eyes wild and swirling dark as he watches me. He moves to the front of the car's hood and stands in front of it as I prop up on my elbows and try to ignore the grime against my back. I'd forgotten that this car has been out in the elements for years now, and it's dirty.
Azar pushes my thighs apart a moment later, and then I'm not thinking about the car at all. He runs his sharp claws over the thin cotton material, and then hooks his claws underneath. The material shreds as if it's nothing, exposing me. Hungry, Azar gazes down at my pussy folds, eyeing me with such intensity that it steals my breath. He doesn't move, though, so I slip a hand between my thighs and decide to help myself.
He pushes my hand away, and that mine echoes in my head again.
"Then touch me," I tell him, panting. "Claim me if you want me."
His eyes flick up towards mine, and I feel like I'm getting through to him again. Like my thoughts—my demands—are piercing that bubble of madness that's been blurring everything in his mind. Claim you? Do you want that? He drags one claw up the wet slit of my sex, and I moan, parting my thighs even wider for him. You want to be taken by your mate? There's a fiery edge to his thoughts that tells me he's not quite himself yet, but he's getting back to who he was before, and I love it.
"Are you my mate?" I taunt, defiant. I toss my braid back and give him a challenging look, pressing a boot to his shoulder when he leans forward. "Because you haven't been in this pussy yet, have you?"
Azar growls at that, no longer amused. His hands lock on my hips, and he drags me down the hood of the car, toward the edge. Instead of fingering me or putting his mouth on me, he takes his dick—his big, gorgeous dick—and rubs it through my folds, dragging the slick head back and forth. Is this what you want?