Our mini distraction on the private island turned into something more. A major distraction. In major ways. I forgot about everything I left behind. I even forgot about the book I was supposed to be writing while looking at the shore. It was all play and no work. We did nothing while we lazed around and talked about our theories and about the world. We ran through the trees morning and night. We fished. We made our dinners the old-fashioned way over a homemade grill under the light of the moon. We swam nearly all day. We ignored the two crew members he'd brought with us to cook for us and go shopping for us when one of us needed something. They didn't seem to mind. They were enjoying a vacation of their own. I barely saw them. Tristan and I were left to our own devices. We watched the sun rise and set. We even played chess out in the sand by the yacht. I taught him some ancient words used by our Caedmon ancestors that had gotten lost along the way. We carved markings on the trees. We ran as wolves.

One day turned into two days. Two days doubled until I realized the weekend had come and gone. On the island, nothing could come between us. And we both knew the moment we stepped foot back on that jet that our not so normal lives would return full force. I didn't want to leave.

I rose from the water and trekked my way back up the shore. As I was picking up the towel to dry off, Tristan's wolf emerged from the forest. He was a majestic beauty. The flawless hue of his mahogany fur and the mystic green and brown tone swirling in his irises could only have belonged to a wolf from a royal bloodline. He was Arnou, a direct descendant of one of the greatest wolf shifters that ever lived.

He shifted, changing from his animal form into the man and mate I'd come to love. His swimming trunks were still intact, but everything else was breathtaking. Even with the distance between us, I could make out his defined muscles, his taut flesh and the intricate tattoo design covering most of the left side of his chest and his left arm. The design then continued on where another tattoo covered most of his back.

I let the towel fall to the sand and stood there under the sun. And just like I knew he would, he came to me. He slid his palm against my neck and gently tilted my face upward and kissed me. The kiss was sweet and passionate, but at the same time, deep and seductive.

"I've tried, Elisa," he whispered against my lips. "I've tried being patient."

"I know. The more we're together, our bond becomes stronger. The union is happening between us now, whether we're ready or not."

"If we wait any longer…"

I brushed a dampened lock of hair behind my ears. "Who said anything about waiting?"

His gaze roved over my face as if searching for some deeper meaning to my question. And then, without warning, he scooped me up from the sand and began taking me toward the yacht. When he set me down again, we were in the cabin.

I closed the distance between us and led him to sit on a couch. His big hands fell to my hips and he guided me down to his lap. My lips covered his in a hunger-fueled kiss. He let out a shallow growl at the back of his throat that I swallowed up in the kiss. His hand was now pressed against my back, pulling me into the kiss. Soon, he took charge, devouring me whole.

"Elisa, I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"You won't, but if you don't help me with this…I don't know…I just feel I have to have you or I'll die," I told him.

Tristan chuckled softly. "I can't have that, but I can't half-ass this. Our first time is going to be special."

"And it's going to be now." To show that I meant business, I bent my head low and pressed kisses into his chest.

"My wicked witch, do you know what you're asking me to do to you?"

I kissed up the column of his neck. "This is what you want, isn't it? I think I've figured you out. You want me to beg you for it."

He gasped when my teeth nipped the skin on his neck. "That too, but the ceremony…"

"I don't want to wait for the mating ceremony. Our first time should be ours alone. The ceremony can wait. I cannot. Not anymore. I've had it. I want to be with a man. I want to be with you."

He slid his hands under my ass, lifting me on the hard length of him. "Fuck, your ass feels good. I've always loved your ass, but I bet you knew that."

I nodded as he massaged the meaty flesh of my ass cheeks. He hooked a thumb between the strap of my swimsuit and untied it. He turned the tables on me and kissed my throat while he undid the other side of my bikini bottom. The wet fabric fell away from me, revealing the manicured triangle it once covered. He took my hand and led them down between us and pressed my fingers against my mound and then down between my folds. I was already wet, but not just from the water.

"Do you touch yourself like this?" he asked, making me stroke myself.

"Sometimes…"

"What do you think about when you touch yourself?"

"Your cock." I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning.

"My cock?" He grinned. "You think of my cock—the thing you haven't yet seen."

"I have seen it."

A look of confusion crossed his face, but then he smiled. "When?"

"In my dreams when you make love to me. In my visions of our future together," I replied.

"Tell me, in your visions, does my cock satisfy you?"

I nodded.

"Is that what you want now. My cock?"

I nodded.

He removed our hands from my sex and I protested with a moan of frustration. But then he brought my fingers to his lips and licked them clean. His eyes rolled back into his head for a moment.

"Your pussy is sweet," he breathed.

I swallowed.

"Take off the top," he commanded.

I reached behind me and unhooked the bra. The garment didn't budge. Seeing that my nipples were hardened pebbles already, he bent his head and covered one of them. He sucked on me through the fabric.

I arched into him. "Oh God."

Not able to withstand his teasing any longer, I did as he asked the first time. I took the bikini top off and threw it aside. He went to work on my breasts, his bare tongue flicking, stroking, and sucking. His cock grew big and hard against my inner thigh and my pussy clenched at the thought of him entering me for the first time.

He stood with me and then lowered me on the couch again, making it so that the tables were now completely turned and he had unfiltered access to my body. My bottom had fallen to the floor so I was completely exposed to him.

He groaned with lust. “You’re beautiful. God, you're perfect," he breathed out as he stared down at my exposed flesh.

I tugged him toward me to close the distance between us. I wanted him completely. His touch, his hands, lips, tongue…all over my body. I didn't want to just dream about his cock thrusting inside of me. I wanted him to fuck me in this reality.

He cupped my left breast, stroking my nipple with feather-soft touches. I hissed and arched beneath him. He smiled with satisfaction at my reaction and then lowered his mouth and grazed his tongue over my nipple. I cradled his head in my hands, bringing his mouth closer to me. As he used his fingers to play with one nipple, his tongue teased the other. Back and forth until I was floating on sexual high, grasping for release.

He was a master at making me wet and writhing beneath him. He was a master at everything.

He enjoyed this. Teasing me, making me want him to the brink of utter, insatiable hunger. He vied for control, and this time, I let him have it. My mate would teach me how to love a man. How to love him. I'd been waiting for this lesson for a very long time.

My hands were all over him now and I tugged at his swim trunks until they were halfway down his hips.

Tristan lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Is this what you want tonight?"

"Yes. Da."

He groaned in arousal when I used the Slavic language he'd been teaching me. I'd also studied some of it myself over the years.

"You want me?" he asked in his Slavic tongue.

"I want you, Tristan." And then I said the words, he'd been waiting to hear for years. "Make me your Queen."

"Da, ti takaya tsarina," he said. Yes, you are my queen.

Tristan kissed me, sealing my fate. And then his lips wandered back down the column of my neck, capturing a nipple between his lips. I fisted his hair as the foreign sensations fueled my body, mind, and soul. I only needed his touch to know that only one man could touch me this way and make me feel this loved. Every caress was filled with need. Every slide of his tongue across my breasts drove me to near insanity.

With one swift motion, Tristan pushed off the couch with his arm and stood up, keeping me close to his chest with his other hand. He carried me to the master suite on the yacht. The suite I'd been sleeping in alone for the past four nights. He placed me at the center of the bed and pinned my arms above my head, pressing delicate kisses into my flesh as he descended lower.

I tried to move my hands.

He put them back. "Keep your hands right there," he commanded.

His gaze met mine, dark and primal. Animalistic and sexual all rolled into one. He made me watch again as he sucked my nipple into his mouth, playing with it and teasing it until it was taut as a thimble. Trying to obey what he'd said, I grabbed onto the headboard above me and squirmed as he sucked and licked.

He slid his hands down my body and traced the manicured triangle of hair on my sex. I quivered beneath his touch and all he did was grin devilishly as he played me like a fiddle.

"I want to eat you," he whispered into my flesh, dipping his tongue into my navel.

"Yes…"

His lips found my swollen most sensitive sex and he kissed me there. He gripped my knees, pushed them up and spread my thighs apart. I could feel my juices literally melting away from my sex. I was so aroused I couldn't think. He found my clit, teasing it before running his hot tongue along my folds.

I cried out from the pleasure of it. I sucked in a breath. Held it. My lungs filled themselves to capacity until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I watched as he devoured me like a hungry wolf. Lapping my honey like a man near starvation. He dipped his tongue in and out of me, catching my gaze and holding it to make certain that I saw the way he was pleasuring me. He sunk his hands under my ass, cupping my cheeks, bringing my pussy closer to his face.

"Oh my God, Tristan," I cried, my breaths coming in pants.

He applied light pressure to my clit, flicking the taut little bud until I burst into two. My climax tore through me, free and uninhibited. When my orgasm was complete, he didn't stop. He didn't leave one drop behind.

"Is that how you imagined it?" he asked, coming over me, kissing my lips. "Is that how you dreamed it would happen?"

I shook my head. "No, that was better. Much, much better."

When I looked down between us, he had his thick cock in his fist, stroking it up and down. Even his cock looked better in reality. He was big, long and meaty. And I looked in awe, wondering how such a huge thing would fit inside me. I had dreamed about him pleasuring himself, stroking himself. And dreams weren't my only indication of what he liked to do. I'd even had visions of him finishing himself off wishing that his cock was buried inside me.

I placed my hand on top of his. "No more," I said. "You don't have to make yourself come anymore. Take me instead."

A look of relief washed over his face. He let his thick, heavy cock fall on my belly and then he buried a finger inside my slick opening. He pumped in and out, testing my readiness.

"You're tight, Elisa. Christ, you're tight," he murmured.

"Is that good?" I asked, quietly.

He chuckled softly and then buried his face against my breast. "You're asking me if your tight, sweet pussy is good for me. Fuck yes. I can't wait to feel your pussy clenching my cock, just like it clenched my tongue. I'm going to make love to you and I'm going to fuck you. And then after I'm done fucking you, I'm going to fuck you some more."

I gasped.

He added a second finger, spreading me wider. "Relax," he breathed against me. His other hand stroked my thigh, trying to convince me that he'd be gentle.

He thrust his fingers inside of me at a consistent tempo while rubbing my clit with his thumb. I lifted my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. I was so aroused, the sound of fingers dipping in and out of my wetness surrounded us. Without much warning, I came again. My sex pulsed and clenched around his fingers.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. A bit of semen leaked from his cockhead onto my belly.

I spread my legs wider and wrapped my legs around his waist. "Now Tristan," I demanded. "I can't take it anymore."

He took hold of my hips and pulled me down the bed, positioning his meaty cock at my slick entrance. Without another word, he pressed against my sex…going deeper until he was only halfway in. I gripped at his strong biceps as a feeling of fullness engulfed me.

"I can't…"

I took his face in my hand and said. "No, look at me. You wanted me like this. I saved this for you because no other man would do. Claim what's yours. Take your queen."

He plunged. First, there was only blinding pain and then there was exquisite pleasure. He thrust into me with long, deep strokes that sent me deeper and deeper into the bed, and higher and higher on our cloud of ecstasy. He'd claimed me in more ways than one. I was his now. Claimed by an Alpha and a King.

I didn't realize it until my body froze that I was ascending into another climax.

His face was twisted in pleasure as he spoke to me in his Slavic tongue. His arms tensed up as he lifted himself off the bed to plunge into me over and over again at just the right speed, tempo, and angle. I wrapped my legs around him tightly and met him thrust for thrust. He seemed to like it. And I loved seeing him surrender control. And surrender control he did…

His muscles tightened and he shuddered above me as his release descended upon him. He pumped hard, spearing me with what little energy he had left. Hot semen flooded my sex. I closed my eyes and my visions took me away. The vision was perfect. One I'd never seen before.

My babies were in my arms. A boy and a girl. Their cheeks were rosy and both had a head full of thick, lush mahogany curls. Arnou children. Tristan's children. I was singing to them when their father came in. He was in his suit and tie—designer labels, of course.

He rushed through the door and came to our side immediately. He kissed me on the lips and then kissed our babies on the head as they fed at my breasts, their eyes closed in peace.

"You called?" he asked.

I laughed.

"Yes, but I didn't know you'd rush back so soon," I said.

"You said you had a name for them. You wouldn't tell me over the phone so I turned back around," he said.

I shook my head. "Oh, Tristan…I said I would tell you over dinner tonight. You're going to miss your meeting."

"Well let's have dinner now."

I giggled, glancing at the high noon sun peeking through the curtains.

"My little girl? What did you name her?" he asked.

"Ramona Teresa." I said.

All tension left his face and he smiled. "And the boy?"

"He's a fighter like you," I said. "His name is Tristan Vasilije Arnou."

"Elisa…" he called my name, as his body quaked upon completion of his climax.

After a few minutes, our breathing returned to normal. We were still in each other's arms.

I spoke first.

"Did you see them?" I asked. "They were beautiful."

"Yes, I saw them. My children were perfect." He held me tighter against him.

"Your mother. You haven't told me about her. Was her name Teresa?" I asked, running my hands through his hair.

"It was," he stated, and then he kissed the top of my forehead and pulled the sheets over us.