CHAPTER 41 TICKLE WARS AND WET MORNINGS–1
EMBER’S POV
Knox’s tongue is inside me before my brain comes online.
I’m floating somewhere between a really good dream and an even better reality, my thighs already spread, my hips already rolling toward heat and pressure and wet, relentless strokes that have no business feeling
this good this early.
A sound escapes me–something between a moan and a confused whimper–and I hear him chuckle against my p***y like he’s been waiting for exactly that reaction.
“There she is.” His voice is a rough morning pitch, muffled against my folds. “Thought you were going to sleep through the best part.”
“Wha-” My fingers find his hair before my eyes find the ceiling. “Knox, what are you–oh god-”
He sucks my clit into his mouth and my question dissolves into a gasp that’s probably embarrassingly loud. My back arches off the mattress.
My thighs try to close around his head but his hands are already there, pinning them apart, holding me open while he devours me like I’m his morning coffee and he’s severely caffeine–dependent.
“You taste like mine,” he murmurs against me, and the possessiveness in his voice shouldn’t make my core clench but it does, it absolutely does. “Like you’ve been waiting for me to wake you up like this.”
“I was sleeping,” I manage, which is a weak protest considering I’m already dripping for him, already grinding against his face like I have no shame whatsoever. “Normal people say good morning with words.” “Normal is boring.” He slides two fingers inside me without warning, curls them perfectly, and I lose the ability to form sentences entirely.
The orgasm hits me before I’m fully conscious, which feels illegal somehow, like there should be rules about coming before you’ve opened your eyes properly.
My body seizes around his fingers, pleasure crashing through me in waves I wasn’t prepared for, and I’m gasping his name like it’s the only word I know.
He works me through it, gentling his touch as I come down, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs while aftershocks ripple through me.
Then he crawls up my body with his chin absolutely glistening and a grin that should be illegal.
“Good morning,” he says, and kisses me before I can respond.
I taste myself on his tongue. It’s filthy and intimate and I should probably be embarrassed but I’m too
boneless to care.
I’m too busy cataloging this version of Knox–the one with light in his eyes and mischief in his smile, the
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CHAPTERA Tek!!
ene why looks at me like I’m something delicious he’s planning to keep eating all day.
“You’re in a disgustingly good mood.” I say when he finally lets me breathe. “Who are you and what have you done with my brooding Lycan King”
“He’s taking the morning off.” Knox rolls onto his back and pulls me with him, arranging me on his chest like I’m a blanket he’s particularly attached to. “The brooding will resume after breakfast. Maybe lunch. I. haven’t decided yet.”
I prop my chin on his chest and study him.
My wolf hums contentedly inside me, a sensation I’m still getting used to. Before Knox, she was always coiled tight, always watching for threats, always ready to run.
But something shifted last night under those northern lights. Something in her looked at this dangerous, ruthless man and decided we were safe here.
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