Fallon’s silken pussy undulates — the velvet demanding control of my dick in a basic battle between feminine and masculine, pure and carnal.

I grunt my superiority, pounding her delicious cunt without mercy. My alpha takes control, taking every ounce of her pleasure.

When her spasms start to ease, I jerk myself out of her. A lift, a pivot and she’s spread over the sofa — her ass in perfect position.

From behind, I re-enter her glistening paradise.

“Fallon.” I beg for mercy.

But her pussy gives none. Her plush sheath wins. I give up trying to control this, losing myself in her luscious womanliness.

Over and over, I slam into her ravishing body.

My balls draw up tight.

Too tight.

Oh.

Fuck.

Me.

No amount of bracing could get a man ready for this kind of ecstasy.

Mine.

I thrust, and hold, again.

Mine.

Unbelievable, the amount of seed that spills from me.

My thighs shake and tremble.

Euphoria.

Rapture.

My Fallon.

Heaven.

* * *

“Are you an alpha?” Fallon traces my bottom lip with the pad of her index finger.

Normally, it’s a teasing touch from a woman.

But tonight isn’t anywhere near normal.

And Fallon not anywhere near a normal woman.

This one is insatiable.

I grin and nod.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

Head in the crook of my arm, she smiles wickedly.

“Oh.” Her hand smoothes across my pecs. “I’m just curious about—” Her teasing caress goes lower to my abs. My dick twitches, desperate for what she’s about to do, “—your stamina.”

“For you? Baby, my stamina is unstoppable.”

“Yeah?” Finally, she wraps her hand nice and tight around me.

I snarl and drop my head back. This witch is looking to drive me insane.

Again.

Not that I’m complaining.

She moves like she wants to suck me off, again.

“Uh, uh.” I stop her head lowering to my dick. “I do believe it’s time for a riding lesson.”

She smiles and bites her bottom lip at the same time, the look in her eyes ravenous. For me. She’s so hungry, and it’s for me.

Fuck. I love that.

“Wanna ride a cowboy?” I hold my dick straight up for her.

She has to start high on her knees. When she slides the tip of her pussy over the tip of me — aw, yeah. There goes my alpha authority.

Every position is more phenomenal than the last. Every time I come, it’s harder and from a deeper place than the last.

Slowly, she sinks down, taking all of me inside her heat. The sweet satin wraps me up in her. Her head lolls sideways. She pants and circles her hips.

“Open your eyes, gorgeous. Look at me.”

Sparkling hazel beams at me from hooded lids.

“You’re mine.”

Her lips curl in a smile, her pelvis kneading her pussy up, down, and around and around on me.

“Tell me you understand.” I grip her hips and make her sit still.

“Sinclair,” she chastises me.

“Tell me you’re mine.” I twitch my dick inside her as an incentive to give me the right answer.

“Oh, yes. I’m yours,” she groans.

“Only mine?” I thumb her clit.

“Oh so yours,” she pants.

I thrust a quick, hard hit.

“Only yours.”

And I let her go. And she rides.

Her long hair grazes my thighs with every wild bounce down. I’m hers. And she rules over my dick, takes what she wants from me.

She comes pretty quick. The scent of her fresh juices stimulates a spot inside this alpha that was waiting for her.

I sit up on my heels, holding her on my lap.

“My turn.”

I bend her back to the pillows and make sure she’s comfortable. Would you look at that? Her engorged clit is on display. I flick my thumb on it.

Love her whimpers of surrender. Love how accessible the little nub is in this position. Love the way her cunt grabs ahold of me.

Her orgasm causes mine.

Each time.

Every time she comes, I lose a little more control to this gorgeous witch. Damn but I love losing to her.

* * *

The fireplace flickers. It’s the only light in the living room. Outside, fluffy snowflakes do little dances on their way to the ground.

“Angel flying too close to the ground,” I sing along with Willie and twirl Fallon into a dip.

She giggles.

Her sexy hair flutters. I pull her back up to my grinning mouth and kiss her with a pop.

We’ve fucked for hours.

I should be tired.

She should be tired. On that thought, she yawns.

“Have I finally tuckered you out?”

She smiles at that, but nods.

I pull her close.

Slow dancing is really an excuse to cuddle.

Willie croons on about nursing his angel’s broken wings. The mournful riff of the guitar is so far from what I’m feeling right now it isn’t even funny.

Fallon is what I was born for. No doubt in my mind that together, here and now, is right where we belong.

The touch of her hands softens and her eyelids keep drooping shut.

“C’mon, sleepy angel.”

I lift her and carry her down the hall to the master bedroom.

We’d stripped the musty bedspread off of it and dressed it with fresh linens earlier — stopping to fuck, again, after putting on the fitted sheet but before the flat sheet.

Was that fuck four? Five?

My monster swaggers. I grin. One thing we definitely agree on is making sure the sweet thing in my arms is well-fucked.

I lower her to the bed and tuck the covers around her.

“Aren’t you coming?” She holds her arms out for me.

“In a minute.” My mate satisfied for now, my brain’d started to work normally again.

I kiss her forehead. “I gotta take care of some ranch business.”

“Oh.” She kicks the covers off. “Feeding?”

“No.” I chuckle. She sounds wasted. Drugged by my alpha love. I chuckle, again.

“What’s so funny?” Her eyes close. Her breathing slows. She’s out.

Mine.

“You, sleepy head.”

I pull the sheets back up, but not before I take a good long ogle of the miles of legs tangled up in them.

So damn sexy.

I back out of the bedroom and pad to the living room.

Barefoot and shirtless, I open then close the patio door behind me. It’s pitch black outside, save for the starlight.

Is it my frame of mind or are they especially bright tonight?

The permanent smile on my face widens ear to ear.

Most likely my frame of mind.

I finally found her.

Or rather my mate found me.

I’m the luckiest damn fucker alive.

I go down the stairs, praising destiny and feeling guilty for being glad Earl died.

The grass cool on my feet, I walk to my truck.

The front end is trashed. I grip the left front fender and yank it off the tire. Air hisses out.

I’m sending Harding the bill, goddamnit. My shredded pants were caught in the driver’s door. I open it. The jeans slide to the ground, my phone — in shattered pieces with them.

Damn it.

I reach in the glove box for the spare and fire it up on my way back to the house.

At the edge of the lawn grass, I feel it. The same weird shifter vibe as earlier.

It isn’t bear, or fox. I sniff the air. Nothing. The vibe isn’t panther or lynx. Not canine, either — not coyote, not wolf.

It’s a shifter, no doubt, but one that isn’t from around here.

The phone screen lights up bright. And the vibe disappears as fast as it came. I take the last steps backwards and glance around.

Back inside, first thing I do is mute the sounds of the phone so I don’t disturb Fallon. I plug in the charger in the kitchen just as the interface comes up. I tap in the codes Will taught me that kills the old phone and transfers my data from the cloud to this new one.

The message indicators add up fast. They stop on twenty-three texts and sixteen emails. I start with the texts from Will and Ram.

I want to know if they felt that weird vibe during the fight tonight.

Will did, but she’s not worried about it.

Whatever it was wasn’t shredding anyone like you were, her message says.

Ram is a different story. He felt the vibe, too. He thinks there was more than one of them — whatever ‘them’ are.

I lean against the counter and respond.

I only identified one.

I share what happened just now when I got the phone.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t like light.

A ding comes back almost immediately.

There were three, Ram insists. He sends another message right after that one. He and four mountain lions are patrolling Rough Mountain looking for the new shifters.

Holy shit. The lions with him are Leon and his brothers. He’s got a lot muscle as backup then. They don’t need me.

I leave the new phone to fully charge and shuffle off to bed.

At the bedroom door, I pause. Fallon’s sprawled from one corner of the bed to the other, dark hair all over the place. It’s going to be a tangled mess when she wakes up.

I go to the bed wondering how you get a sleeping woman to move over. I touch the covers, not knowing what to do.

I’ve never slept all night with a woman.

Never fucked all night either.

I grin.

Her eyes open a sliver. “Hey, sexy.” She scoots to the left side.

I slide into the space she made for me. The mattress is warm where she was. The pillow smells like her hair.

Mmmmmm. I sigh when she rolls her soft body next to mine, twines her legs with mine and holds on.

Aw, yeah. This is it. This is what life is all about, right here.

* * *

I smell steak.

I crack an eye. The curtains are still closed, but given the brightness and angle of the sun it’s gotta be high noon or later.

There’s commotion in the living room.

Fallon.

I’m up — in more ways than one. I put on one pant leg and, hopping on that leg to the door, put on the other. I don’t bother zipping. They’re coming off the second I find my sweet witch.

“Ah, gorgeous.” I walk pretty fast down the hall. “Thought we’d agreed that you wouldn’t cook without me.”

I smirk, proud of my double entendre.

When I come around the wall, I see my baby sister and Fallon at the table shoveling food in their mouths.

“Um, sorry brother.” Will, wry smile on her face, stands at the stove. She doesn’t look at me.

“Willow is such a good cook.” Fallon might as well swoon at Will’s feet.

The pancakes they’re eating do look damn good all slathered in butter and dripping maple syrup.

The steak that woke me up is in the cast iron skillet under Will’s expert command.

“Coffee?” Fallon pops a big bite in her mouth and stands.

“Yes, please.” I follow her to the pot on the other side of the kitchen.

“Sugar? Cream?” She pulls down a cup.

Standing behind her, I kiss her neck and fondle her ass. “How about some of your creamy juices?” I whisper super low in her ear.

“First off, ew,” Fallon whispers back. “And second, be good. We have guests.”

“Yup. Twelve year olds don’t need to see that.” Will motions at me with a butter knife. She slices off half a stick of butter and plops it into the frying pan.

“Black.” I blow out a breath and do my best to put away my morning wood.

I sip the steaming hot coffee Fallon hands me.

Oh, that’s good. I sip some more and wipe the sleep from my eyes.

Outside, snow blankets the ground, but the sky is clear and blue. The clock on the microwave says one-twenty. I try zipping my pants with one hand while slurping coffee with the other.

“You’re so gross.” Mads rolls her eyes. Her eyelids sparkle.

I stop what I’m doing and pull the cup away from my lips. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Yes.” She sits up straighter and turns her face side to side. “You like it.”

“Fuck no!”

“Sin.” Will makes her eyes big at me.

“She’s too goddamn young for that shit.”

“Calm down.” Fallon snugs herself under my arm for a hug.

That actually works to calm me down.

“She’s not too young at all. I was nine when I started modeling.”

Modeling?

My focus darts from Fallon to Mads and back.

“No,” I say. “She can’t be a model.”

Mads’ face falls.

I don’t care. I’ve seen what those chicks wear — or don’t wear, half naked spread out for a photographer.

Never gonna happen with my little sister.

The doorbell tries to chime. It’s more of a sad buzz. If we weren’t standing right under the interior box for it, we’d never would have heard it go off.

I put the repair at the top of the list.

It buzzes again. Fallon is on her way to the door when whoever it is pounds hard on the door.

When she opens it, the cold air whooshes in through the foyer.

“No.” It’s Lizzie Crowe’s voice.