HAPTER SIX
Dillon could smell Brigitte’s fear, the brittle, acrid smell of it cutting through the intoxicating aroma he loved so much; he looked around as the renegade lions broke their cover, converging on them both.
“We told you,” one of the lions—Dillon recognized the voice of Ron—said in a low, growling tone.
“The Alpha isn’t here to protect you,” another voice chimed in. Dillon saw the fear on Brigitte’s face as she wheeled around, her vision not as sharp in the darkness as his. He counted five scent-marks, a sixth farther away—probably in a car to make a quick getaway.
“Brigitte, go to the car,” Dillon said, throwing the keys in her direction. Brigitte managed—somehow—to catch them, the metal and plastic clattering in her hand.
“You’re coming with me, right?” she asked him, her voice full of panic.
“Just go to the car, now,” Dillon repeated. He shifted into a ready stance. “She’s a human—keep her out of this,” he said to the group of renegades.
“She’s your mate; she’s going down with you.” Dillon’s sharp hearing registered the voice as feminine.
“Come out into the light, why don’t you? Or are you all jackals—not lions?” Dillon felt the adrenaline surge through him, anger lighting up his nervous system at the threat to his mate.
As if his taunt had been a cue, the other weres launched themselves at Dillon and at Brigitte all at once, emerging from the dim light of the streetlamps. Everything became a blur, and Dillon felt the change cracking along his bones, the animal inside of him rising to the surface, the instinct to protect his mate washing through his mind.
He fought back the urge to change into his other form; even in the midst of the attack, Dillon was aware of the need to keep his dual nature secret, and the fact that they were in a public place. He snarled, growling as two of the renegades came into his reach.
Dillon threw himself into the battle, forcing himself to ignore Brigitte’s yelp and shout of fear. He had to get rid of the threat, then he could take care of his mate. But only if he managed to get rid of the renegades. Dillon kicked and punched and grabbed, reacting on pure instinct. In spite of the secrecy that governed all were-lions, growls and coughing roars filled Dillon’s ears—his own and the other lions’.
He could only hope that he could manage to take care of the mini-Pride before anyone in the deserted area thought to call the police about the strange noises. Dillon threw his assailants aside, launching himself at anyone who came into reach, fighting mindlessly and savagely. He didn’t care whether he killed any of the lions or not; they had attacked him and therefore, he was entitled to put them down by any means necessary.
Slowly, the chaos abated, and Dillon realized that half of the assailants were on the ground, dead or unconscious. The sixth scent he’d smelled, farther away, was gone, and Dillon looked around to realize that three of the renegades had fled. After taking stock of the situation, Dillon realized that Brigitte was silent. Shock, apprehension, anger, and fear washed through him in waves and he looked around, sniffing the air to detect her scent.
Brigitte sat next to the car, trembling, her knees tucked underneath her as she stared at the sidewalk in shock. Dillon approached her, pushing down the change he could feel rippling through his bones, surging through his veins. “Love, are you okay?” He asked, sinking down onto the ground next to her. Brigitte shivered, pulling away from him, looking at him with fear in her eyes.
“I killed one of them,” she said, her voice a whisper. Dillon looked around, confused; he saw the sprawled body of one of their assailants a few feet away from the car.
“Good job, love,” Dillon said, keeping his voice light but warm. He reached for her hands and saw the blood on them. “You did beautifully, Brig. Just beautifully.”
“But I killed someone,” Brigitte said, her eyes filming over with tears. “I—I don’t like how that feels.” Dillon wrapped his arms around her tightly, drawing her close to him.
“Shh,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You had to do it, Brigitte. They weren’t coming to invite us to tea.”
Brigitte nodded, trembling against him. “He had a knife,” Brigitte murmured. “He—he said—he said that he was going to use it on me…” her shuddering intensified. “On…” She gulped, and Dillon put together the threat. If the man hadn’t already been dead, he thought, he would gladly rip his throat out right then.
“We need to visit the Alpha,” Dillon told Brigitte softly. “I know you’re shaken, love, and we’ll go home soon and I’ll make you forget all of this happened, but we need to talk to the man in charge.”
Brigitte swallowed, and Dillon watched in fascination and respect as she slowly regained her composure, taking a few deep, slow breaths. She dashed at the tears on her face, blinking a few times.
“If you think that’ll make this stop,” she said slowly, “then I can hold it together long enough to meet the guy.”
Dillon kissed her, feeling a mixture of pride at her bearing, anger at their assailants, and doubt about the next step he knew they had to take.
“If nothing else, we need to make them know what’s happened so they can do damage control.” Dillon gave her hand a squeeze. “Bring the knife with you, it’ll be good to show him. Come on, love.” He kissed her again and rose, bringing Brigitte to her feet.
Dillon’s thoughts turned grim as they approached the Pride Alpha’s home on the outskirts of the city. He had called ahead, as soon as they were both in the car together, to inform Kieran that they’d been attacked, and that four of the six assailants were either dead or severely injured.
“If they jumped you on the street, without authorization, they were in the wrong,” Kieran had said. “Can you and your mate give me the details? I’m going to call the rest of the Pride in to meet.”
“It’s going to be pretty intense,” Dillon said, pulling onto the street where Kieran lived. “And keep in mind, lions have kind of… different views from the rest of normal human society.”
Brigitte turned to look at him, and in the dim glow of the consoles, he saw that her face was pale, but composed. “I’m not really your mate, you know,” she said quietly.
Dillon raised an eyebrow. “You are, as far as they’re concerned. And as far as I’m concerned.” He slowed to a stop at the curb in front of Kieran’s home. “Listen, Brig. I know you’re not ready for a commitment, but you have my scent all over you.
And I have yours on me. You’re already marked as my mate as far as anyone in that house is concerned.” Dillon licked his lips. “And the fact is that you being my mate—not just a girl I took out to a club—works to our advantage. Stick to that story and we’ll get results.”
“And if I don’t?”
Dillon pressed his lips together. “I’m on probation as it is,” he said. “If they decide against me, I’ll have to flee the city—and if they don’t discipline the other two, they’ll come after you once I’m gone to try and get revenge on me.”
Brigitte shuddered. “Oh, lions. How charming you all are,” she said, her voice dry.
“We’re part animal,” Dillon said without apology. “We’ll talk about it later, but for now I need you to follow my lead, okay?”
Brigitte hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
Dillon smiled slightly. “I’m really proud of the way you’re handling this, love. I couldn’t be hopelessly attracted to a stronger, cleverer, sexier woman.”
Brigitte smiled weakly. “You just want to get into my pants after this is all over,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt. “We would get it over with.”
Dillon stopped her, leaning across the center console to kiss Brigitte hungrily on the lips. “You’re damn right I want to get into your pants,” he told her, smiling in the darkness. “But I’d be proud of you even if you told me to go home by my lonesome.” He gave her hand a squeeze and unbuckled his own seatbelt, opening the driver’s side door.
A woman answered the door at his knock, looking Dillon over with a piercing, evaluating glance. “Kieran’s expecting you,” she said curtly.
“I rather thought he would be,” Dillon said, straightening his shoulders. He could sense Brigitte next to him, projecting a kind of serene confidence that made him admire her all the more. He knew that it would take a long time to bring her back around, to make her feel safe once more, and Dillon’s anger flared at the fact that a group of renegade lions had made his mate fear for her life, had threatened her.
They walked through the door, and the woman who had answered it—a tall, lithe-looking blonde—led them through the sprawling house to a den. Dillon glanced at Brigitte as they stepped through the entryway; he saw her check slightly, gazing around at the assembled Pride. “Joe and Jackie haven’t seen fit to answer my texts,” Kieran said, his voice rippling with displeasure.
Dillon watched the Alpha stand up, approaching himself and Brigitte with the confidence and swagger of the top male. “One of those assholes threatened to rape my mate with a knife,” Dillon said, holding Kieran’s gaze. “They attacked us in the open—if I’d been forced to change to protect her, you all would risk being revealed.” Kieran nodded at the tacit reprimand.
“Even if neither of you are members of the Pride, that’s inexcusable,” Kieran said. Dillon fought back the surge of possessive defensiveness as Kieran’s attention shifted onto Brigitte. “From what I’ve been told, you killed Gary with his own knife.” The statement was not quite a question. Dillon clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain silent.
“I did,” Brigitte said, and Dillon almost smiled at the confidence in his lover’s voice. “I’m sure you’re aware that I’m not—one of your kind,” she said, and if she hesitated, Dillon thought that it wasn’t a weak pause; it was a thoughtful one. “I also understand that these members of your Pride are not exactly welcoming to outsiders.”
“That has never been a rule of our Pride,” the blonde woman who’d let them into the house said. “If you’re chosen by a lion, then you must have something to offer.”
“I don’t know about that,” Brigitte said dryly. “I just know that I was told the only thing my—pussy—was good for was being ripped open.” Dillon could smell the growing reek of anger in the gathered Pride; he counted about a dozen members arranged around the room. How Brigitte could stand the acrid smell he didn’t know.
“I’d like to take that knife from you, Brigitte,” Kieran said gently. With only a moment’s hesitation, she handed the blood-drenched weapon to him. “Please accept my deepest apologies. This is not the way that I would want anyone introduced to our community, at all.” Brigitte smiled wryly.
“Dillon here did a much better job of it, I will say that,” she glanced at him.
“What are you going to do about the attack?” Dillon put as much confidence into his tone as possible. The brittle edge of anger he could smell building up in the Pride could easily spill over onto himself and Brigitte. “If you can’t guarantee our safety, I will have to take my mate away from her life here.”
“You have my guarantee that the other two will be put down,” Kieran said quickly. “I have two trackers out right now locating them. When they’re found, they’ll be brought here and executed.” Dillon saw Brigitte’s eyes widen. “They attacked strangers in public, where they could expose us all; if they’d attacked you privately, the worst I could do is give Dillon the chance to challenge them.”
“Do you need us to be here for the execution?” Dillon asked, able to see the repulsion, the disgust in Brigitte’s body language.
“No,” Kieran said, glancing at Brigitte for just a moment. “I will let you know when it’s done. Continue your courtship, and when you’ve come to an agreement, we’ll discuss you joining the Pride.” Kieran’s gaze fell on Dillon. “If you come to an agreement, that is.”
“I understand,” Dillon said, inclining his head slightly. He took Brigitte by the hand, pulling her closer to him. “I want a guarantee of her safety even if we don’t come to an agreement. She’s not of our kind.”
The blonde shifted, and Dillon heard a soft murmur of protest from the ranked lions behind the two leaders.
“You have my guarantee,” Kieran said, holding up a hand to silence the others. “If she doesn’t join with you, she will be left strictly alone, on pain of challenge.” Kieran nodded slightly, and Dillon inclined his head again, accepting their dismissal. He stepped backwards out of the room, holding the Alpha’s gaze; it was not a time to show submission.
That would come if and when he could convince Brigitte to stay with him. Dillon turned his back once they were out of sight, leading his lover the rest of the way through the house and to his car, relief washing through him. At least he knew that she would be safe—no matter what she decided.
*
Brigitte was exhausted when she and Dillon arrived at her apartment; she would have been tired, ready to go to bed, even if she hadn’t been attacked at Dillon’s side, but the attack and the trip to the Alpha’s house had left her feeling confused, frightened, and aching all over.
“Let’s get you into the shower, love,” Dillon suggested as he closed the front door behind them, locking the deadbolt quickly.
“We need to talk first,” Brigitte said, pushing his hand away and staggering towards the couch. She had managed to get her hands cleaned up from the blood that had been on them when Dillon stopped at a gas station on the way back to her place.
Dillon followed her, his dark eyes looking doubtful, his expression concerned. “What do we need to talk about?”
Brigitte looked at him, taking in every inch of Dillon’s body. The drive back into the city proper where her apartment was, had given her a lot of time to think; especially since she and Dillon had mostly been silent during the trip.
“You need a mate to join the Pride,” Brigitte said slowly. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, biting it slowly.
“I already said we can talk about that later, it’s no big deal,” Dillon protested.
Brigitte shook her head. “You did something really, really good tonight,” she said, smiling. “Not—exactly—killing those guys, though that was definitely a benefit to me since they wanted…” she paused, shuddering. “But when you were talking to Kieran.”
Dillon sat down in a chair, comfortably close without being right next to her, on top of her; Brigitte realized he was giving her some space.
“You made him promise my protection even if I didn’t become your mate.”
Dillon’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. “Of course I did,” he said, frowning. “If you don’t want to be my mate, you should be free to live your life, and that includes not having to worry about someone in the Pride attacking you as retribution for one of those assholes.”
Brigitte grinned. “You idiot, didn’t it occur to you that you could hold providing me with safety over my head as a reason I had to be your mate?”
Dillon’s eyes widened. “I would never—ever—try and make you be my mate against your will,” he told her, his voice brittle with barely-contained anger. “I’m not mad at you for thinking that, but I wouldn’t be much of a human being if I even entertained that thought.”
Brigitte’s smile broadened, and she looked at her hands, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. “Well, even if it’s impossible for you to think of something so underhanded, I appreciate it,” she said, finally looking up to meet Dillon’s gaze. “I’m not saying that I just automatically agree to be your mate, right now, no questions asked.”
Dillon’s glance was wary. “But you’re interested in the idea,” he said, making the statement almost a question.
Brigitte thought about it for a moment before nodding. “I don’t think I could do much better than you, even if…” she shook her head, remembering the nonchalant way that the Pride’s Alpha had decreed that the other two people involved in attacking her and Dillon would be executed. “There are some things about your life with the Pride that I will probably never understand,” Brigitte said. “Like executing people without a trial.”
Dillon held up a hand, forestalling any further words. “It’s not without a trial,” he said. “Just not a legal trial. If they had attacked us privately, then I’d have the chance to challenge them, fight to the death.”
Brigitte took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “That too,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t raised in this culture, and that’s something you’re going to have to be okay with. There are things that you’re going to consider just normal life, that are going to—that I’m not going to like.”
“I know that,” Dillon said, reaching over and taking her hand in his. He gave her hand a squeeze and stood quickly, moving onto the couch next to her. “I know you’re not like me, love. And you’re not like any of the women who were in that room.”
“Are you going to be okay with that?” Brigitte met his gaze levelly. “It’s one thing for you to go off a few nights a week and chase antelope or something…” As they’d driven back from the meeting with the Alpha, it had finally, fully occurred to her what Dillon’s second nature really was: that he was a predator, that he hunted, that there was an animal side to him that he couldn’t deny.
“It’s really only one night a week, tops, and then a few days during the full moon,” Dillon said, smiling slightly. “But if I do join the Pride, it will be a big part of my life. You’ll have to mix with them socially. Are you okay with that?”
Brigitte considered the question for a moment. “As long as they’re okay with me not being one of your kind,” she said slowly, “I think—I think I’m okay with it. I mean, you’re all still people at the end of the day, right?” Dillon nodded. Brigitte took a deep breath and exhaled. “Then while I…while I’m not ready to just, say that we’re going to be permanently together, end of story…I’d like to…have an agreement that we’ll see.”
“Do you want to see about maybe moving in together?”
Brigitte’s eyes widened and she stared at him for a moment. “Maybe in a couple of weeks,” she said finally. “I mean, it’s still only been a week, you know?”
Dillon hesitated and then nodded. “But you understand that I’m never going to stop wanting you,” he said quietly. “That it’s not even something I completely have power over. Even if you decided you didn’t want to be my mate, I’d want you.”
“That’s a bit intense,” Brigitte said, though a spurt of warmth spread through her at the words, the low tone of Dillon’s voice. In spite of—or maybe because of—the excitement and danger of the evening, she could feel herself starting to respond to Dillon’s touch, his presence. “But I—I understand that it’s instinct.”
“More than that,” Dillon said, smiling wryly. “After tonight, and how you handled yourself, I think you’re exactly the right woman for me—mate or no.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “You really showed me tonight.” Dillon’s hands began to travel over Brigitte’s body slowly, and she shivered as she felt the warmth spreading through her, making her nerves tingle all over.
“You’re seriously putting the moves on me right now?” Brigitte broke away from Dillon’s lips, laughing.
“Mm,” Dillon murmured, claiming her lips for a longer, deeper kiss. “I told you, all your fault.” He nibbled along the column of her throat, nipping sharply just below her jaw. Brigitte gasped, shivering as the last vestiges of doubt and insecurity dissolved in the heat that flooded her body. Dillon tugged her shirt up over her head, guiding it along her arms and tossing it aside.
Brigitte pulled Dillon’s face up to hers, kissing him eagerly. “Maybe I’m feeling it a little bit too,” Brigitte admitted, barely breaking away from his lips. “But that’s completely your fault.”
Dillon murmured against her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her up onto her feet. “Another time,” he said, stepping back to look down into her eyes, “I’ll make use of that couch. But for our first time here in your place, I think the bed; don’t you?” Brigitte nodded, too breathless with desire to speak.
Dillon led her out of the living room and into her bedroom, his hands falling to her hips. Brigitte tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it free from his jeans, her fingers brushing against his ribs as she brought it up. Dillon pulled away from her lips long enough for Brigitte to haul the fabric over his head; she let the shirt fall to the floor, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
Dillon tugged at the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down over her hips, guiding it along her thighs until he came to her knees. Brigitte let the fabric fall to her feet and then stepped out of it, kicking it aside. Dillon stepped back, keeping his hands on her waist but holding her at arm’s length.
“God, woman,” he murmured, his admiring gaze taking in every inch of her. “I really, really hope those tights weren’t expensive.” His dark eyes flashed and he tumbled her onto the bed, launching himself after her a heartbeat later and landing carefully on top of her.
Brigitte could feel the hard ridge of Dillon’s erection pressing against her hip as he kissed her hungrily, his hands moving over her body in a feather-light, teasing caress. She gasped as Dillon’s hands came to the waistband of her tights and tugged; there was a brush of something that felt like fur against her skin and she heard the sharp, tearing sound of the fabric giving way.
Looking down, she watched in amusement, arousal and fascination as Dillon pulled the thin fabric apart in shreds, tearing it away from her skin with a few quick tugs. “I’ll replace them,” he told her in a low, almost growling voice.
Dillon lifted her up slightly, his lips connecting with hers once more as he reached around to Brigitte’s back, his fingers unerringly finding the clasp of her bra. Brigitte trembled at the flood of desire that washed through her while Dillon—more carefully than he had handled her tights by far—tugged the bra away from her body, freeing her breasts for an instant before breaking away from her lips to bury his face against them.
Brigitte reached down between their bodies, her hands fumbling at the fly of Dillon’s jeans, fingers clumsy. “Fuck,” she said, panting as Dillon claimed one of her nipples with his mouth, sucking and licking the firm nub with his rougher-than-usual tongue. “Why do you even wear clothes? It’s not fair. I can’t rip yours to pieces.” Dillon chuckled lowly, intercepting her hands and pushing them away from the front of his pants.
“Maybe we should make a rule,” Dillon murmured, switching from one nipple to the other. Brigitte felt him shifting against her, his lower body squirming, the hard ridge rubbing against her for just a moment before she felt the rough denim slip away. “No clothes in the house after 8 pm, how does that sound?” Brigitte chuckled, her breath catching in her throat as Dillon grazed her nipple with sharp teeth.
“That’s a good rule,” Brigitte said breathlessly. She felt Dillon moving and then felt his skin press against hers, his hot, hard cock brushing against her thigh. “I like that rule a lot,” she added, reaching down to wrap her hand around his erection. Dillon’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties; before she could say anything in protest or warning, she felt a sharp tug, and heard the ripping sound of the seams giving way at her hips.
“I’ll replace them, too,” Dillon told her absently, bringing his mouth back up to hers to kiss her hungrily. Brigitte writhed and twisted as his fingers slid along her already slick labia, stroking and rubbing her slowly. “Tell me you’re mine, love,” Dillon said, barely breaking away from her lips.
“You know I am,” Brigitte said, moaning as Dillon found her clit by touch and began to rub the bead of nerves in slow, swirling movements.
“I want to hear you say it,” Dillon insisted. “Tell me.”
Brigitte cried out as one of Dillon’s fingers slid down to her inner labia, pushing inside of her slowly. Her muscles rippled around the intrusion, her body tingling with jolts of pleasure.
“I’m yours,” Brigitte said, her voice barely a whisper. She arched up against Dillon, craving the feel of his skin against hers, the heat between them already beginning to make her sweat, make her want more and more. “I’m yours, Dillon,” Brigitte said again.
Dillon groaned, his voice tinged with a possessive growl, and his fingers moved more quickly against her, making Brigitte gasp and shiver at the hot and cold tingles of sensation coursing through her nerves.
Brigitte’s fingernails dug into Dillon’s shoulder as he teased her, stroking and rubbing her pleasure center one moment and then dipping down to her inner labia the next. Her hips twisted and bucked, seemingly with a mind of their own, as Dillon worked her steadily, making her wetter and wetter, bringing her to the edge of orgasm.
“God—fuck, Dillon, you’re the worst…” Brigitte brought her face up to Dillon’s neck, moaning against his skin helplessly. She shuddered and trembled underneath him, fighting to get better contact with his fingers, to get the relief she craved so much.
“Am I, love?” Dillon rubbed her clit steadily, his thumb swirling around the bead of nerves until Brigitte’s whole body tensed, every muscle tightening before wave after wave of pleasure washed through her. Brigitte heard Dillon chuckle as she pitched and arched underneath him, moaning out his name again and again in helpless pleasure. She lost herself in the sensations coursing through her, kissing Dillon everywhere her lips could reach, twisting and writhing in the depths of her climax.
The spasms of pleasure began to abate, and Brigitte sagged against the bed, panting and gasping for breath as Dillon’s fingers slowly retreated. She trembled in the aftermath, sprawled bonelessly underneath Dillon, and Brigitte vaguely heard Dillon licking his fingers clean as her breathing gradually slowed.
She opened her eyes to look up at him, watching her intently. “You look so beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice a low growl in her ears. Dillon brushed his lips against hers. “Let me know when you’re ready for more. I can wait, but not forever.”
Dillon’s hands wandered over her body, and even in the midst of her aftershocks, Brigitte could feel her arousal beginning to rise up again. She kissed him eagerly, exploring his body with her hands, touching him everywhere. It suddenly seemed very important to learn every knob in his spine, every plane on his back, every muscled ridge along his abdomen.
Brigitte broke away from Dillon’s lips panting, looking up at him. “I think—I think I’m ready for round two,” she said, licking her lips and smiling slightly. Dillon chuckled, nuzzling against her neck.
“Not yet, I think,” he said, rocking his hips against her. Brigitte could feel the heat and hardness of his cock rubbing against her, feel the sticky-slick slither of his precum against her skin as he teased both her and himself. “I want you good and hot for me, love. So turned on you can barely stand it.”
He kissed a trail down from her neck, past her collarbone, to the tops of her breasts, and Brigitte squirmed underneath him as Dillon claimed each of her nipples in turn, sucking and licking the hardened nubs, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Brigitte pulled his face away, bringing Dillon up to kiss him hungrily on the lips as she pushed her hips down against his.
“Please?” she asked, barely breaking away from the kiss. “You already know I’m yours.” Dillon shuddered against her.
“I do, but I love to hear you say it,” he murmured. “God, I want you, Brig.” He pulled himself up, kneeling between her legs and looked down at her. “I want to take you like my mate, not just a woman I love to have sex with,” he said, his voice low and almost purring.
“What do you mean by that?” Brigitte asked, a faint stirring of alarm starting up inside of her. Dillon grinned slowly.
“I think you’ll like it.” He glanced around and reached over, grabbing the pillows from the head of Brigitte’s bed. Dillon moved them down closer to where Brigitte lay sprawled on her back, and she frowned in confusion, even as her curiosity piqued. In a movement so fast she couldn’t follow it, Dillon picked her up, tumbling her forward on top of the pillows. He pulled her around until her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, her hips positioned just the way he wanted, her thighs spread. “God, love,” Dillon said with a groan from behind her, his hand trailing along her spine slowly. “You have no idea how good you look like this, Brigitte.” Brigitte shivered as she felt Dillon’s hips press against her, the heat and hardness of his cock brushing against her inner thighs, barely touching her slick labia.
Brigitte moaned out as Dillon thrust into her slowly, filling her up inch by inch. He rocked his hips, pushing deeper and deeper inside of Brigitte, and Brigitte pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts, gripping the sheets of her bed. She lifted herself up onto her elbows, her head falling forward between her arms as Dillon gradually moved faster and faster inside of her, his hips colliding with the curve of her buttocks. Brigitte shuddered, gasping as she felt Dillon’s cock rubbing along her inner walls, barely missing her g-spot.
She felt his weight against her back as Dillon covered her body with his own, kissing her shoulders and the back of her neck. He slipped his arms underneath her body, thrusting hard and fast, deeper and deeper inside of her. “Say—say it again, Brig,” Dillon said, his voice coming out in a purring growl next to her ear. “Tell me you’re mine.” Brigitte yelped, pleasure jolting through her body as Dillon’s cock brushed against her g-spot.
“I’m yours, I’m yours, Dillon—all yours.” Dillon let out a sound like a coughing, growling roar, and Brigitte gasped, pushing her hips back. She felt Dillon’s lips drag along her neck, brushing against her shoulder. He thrust into her harder and faster, and Brigitte cried out as the tip of his cock brushed against her pleasure center again and again.
Just as she was on the edge of orgasm—when she thought that she couldn’t possibly take any more pleasure—she felt Dillon’s teeth sink into the nape of her neck, a low and steady growl vibrating against her skin.
Brigitte cried out, shuddering, as pleasure washed through her body in waves. She moaned Dillon’s name over and over again as he continued to thrust harder and faster into her, his hips slamming against her buttocks as he held himself back, prolonging her orgasm as long as he could. Brigitte felt her climax intensifying as Dillon reached down between her legs, over the crest of her hips.
He found her clit by touch, stroking and rubbing, sending electric hot and cold crackles of pleasure through her body that left Brigitte helpless. She was barely aware of the louder roar that shook Dillon’s body, barely aware of the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside of her.
Trapped in her own pleasure, Brigitte felt Dillon’s body tense against hers and then the sticky-slick heat of his climax rushed into her in one gush after another. Her spasms of sensation had barely abated when she felt the heavy weight of Dillon’s body pressing against her with the end of his climax.
Brigitte came back to herself gradually, aware first that she was curled up on her side, with Dillon’s arms around her, his hands stroking her all over. She could still feel the thrumming, buzzing pleasure dancing through her veins, along with a lingering soreness at the back of her neck. “You bit me,” she said, opening her eyes to look up at Dillon. He smiled, slightly sheepish-looking but with a glimmer of pride in his dark eyes.
“I did,” he said, shifting her in his arms. “It’s—well, suffice it to say that the next time you meet the Pride, they’ll know for sure that you’re mine.” Brigitte raised an eyebrow and decided that at the moment, she didn’t want to know any more about the situation.
She felt more satisfied than she ever had before in her life, languorously sleepy, content to stay right where she was. Dillon brushed his lips against her forehead. “I didn’t break the skin, though, love. And before you ask, no you’re not going to become a were-lion.” Brigitte laughed, turning around in Dillon’s arms to face him.
“You know, until you opened your big mouth, I wouldn’t have even thought of that worry,” she said tartly. She settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. In spite of the fact that she knew there was a lot more for them to work out between them, Brigitte was happy.
“You’re mine,” Dillon said, his voice full of pride and a hint of renewed desire. “I don’t care what you want to call it—or how long it will take you to come around, to want to agree to be with me permanently. We’re together now, right?” Brigitte nodded, nuzzling lightly against Dillon’s chest.
“I am yours,” she said, smiling to herself. “I would never in a million years have thought that clicking yes on a profile on that stupid app would come to this, but I’m yours.” Brigitte heard a buzzing sound.
“My phone,” Dillon said absently. He slid out of the bed and found his pants, reaching into his pocket to withdraw his phone. Brigitte watched as he unlocked the screen and looked at something on it. He nodded once to himself and put the phone down on her bedside table. “The other two lions have been taken care of,” he said succinctly. He climbed back into bed with her and wrapped his arms around Brigitte.
“I’m not going to pretend like I’m entirely okay with that,” Brigitte said, looking up into Dillon’s dark eyes. “But I’m glad we’re safe.”
“Me too,” Dillon said, bringing her face up to his to kiss her. “And we’ll figure everything else out over time.” Brigitte nodded, slithering on top of him.
“For now though, I think I remembered you promised to take me in the living room next. Still up for that?” Dillon laughed.
“You give me five minutes, love, and I will take you on every horizontal surface in this place.” He kissed her and Brigitte took a deep breath, cuddling close to him.
She smiled to herself, thinking that she would look forward to knowing that she had plenty more opportunities to get to know every inch of Dillon’s body. Even if she hadn’t been looking for someone to stay with for the rest of her life, Brigitte couldn’t help but feel glad, knowing that she had it in Dillon—whenever she was ready for it.