I want you inside me, Wyatt. Now. The words seemed to hang in the room, their sweet invitation wrapping around Wyatt's brain and making it stop working. All he was right now was pure sensation, pure joy and rightness with Bryony.

His Bryony. His.

“Whatever you want,” he managed to say, his voice ragged. His cock throbbed, eager to be inside her. He'd been almost painfully hard for the last fifteen minutes.

His fingers told him she was ready. The soft moan deep in her throat, the way her eyes fixed on his with an intensity that seemed to connect them together, told him she wanted this just as much. He shoved away the tiny, lingering doubt that this was real, and went with the moment.

She rolled her thighs apart, tipping her hips up at him again. He groaned, feeling the fire roar through him. Feeling his wolf push at him to claim his mate, to bite her slender neck, to make her his. Her beautiful breasts, bare and soft and still glistening from where his mouth had feasted, moved up and down from the tempo of her breathing. Reaching up, he pulled her arms over her head and clasped her wrists in his hands, gently holding them to the pillow.

Bryony smiled up at him, her pulse banging in her neck as her spicy-sweet scent rose in waves, almost overpowering him with lust. “Now,” she reminded him, her voice half-command, half-laugh, all strong, sweet, sexy woman. Then, “Fucking right now, Wyatt,” she whispered in a ragged cry, all play gone from her face. Her voice shook, her body shook.

He thought his soul shook, too.

“Now,” he whispered back, spreading his weight on his knees between her open legs, and pushed inside her.

He almost howled with the stunning explosion of tight heat and the way Bryony's mouth fell open as she panted. She tilted her hips up more, to accommodate him. He slid inside, eliciting a small gasp from her as he pushed against the tightness.

“I'm sorry.” Her voice bumped as his thrust slid her over the sheets. “It's been a while.”

Wyatt stopped, making her cry out a soft, “No, don't stop!”

“I don't want to hear about anyone else,” he growled, tipping his head down to lightly nip at her ear, then her shoulder. “Just me.”

“Same back to you,” she retorted, though a moan underscored her voice.

Wyatt pulled his head back to look at her. Bryony's gaze was clear, even though her face was soft with her need. He nodded. “Deal,” he said in a low voice, before he abruptly thrust all the way inside her.

She gasped and arched her head back, meeting his stroke by pushing up toward him. Letting him fill her completely, the sweet moans coming from her lips telling him how much she liked having him there. He increased the rate, changed the angle, and never stopped the delicious slip and slide and thrust of this most ancient dance.

Fucking hell, but doing this with Bryony was the singular most amazing experience of Wyatt's life.

“Wyatt,” she gasped, low and throaty, her eyes wide on his as her hands pressed hard onto his back. “More. Don't stop. I'm close,” she said in a ragged warble. “I want to be looking at you when I come.”

He just nodded, keeping his eyes on hers, diving again and again into her soft heat. He felt his own orgasm spiraling up through him as hers began to rise as well, judging by how her pupils got bigger and her moans got faster and her hands clutched him tighter, fingers digging deep into his flesh as she hung on to him.

“Wyatt,” she moaned again, her head bucking and her mouth staying open, though her eyes never left his. Then something shifted in her gaze, her eyes unfocusing for a split second before coming back. “Yes,” she whispered suddenly, tilting her head to the side. “Do it. I know you will. I want you to,” she said softly, her words jolting between his thrusts.

“Bry,” he moaned out, knowing what she meant. Her neck was there, exposed for him.

As blinding hot lightning seemed to fill his every cell, he reached forward and plunged his teeth into the sweet spot between her shoulder and collarbone, just above where her wolf-angel tattoo spread behind her shoulder. His teeth pierced her, tasting the sweet ambrosia that was Bryony, as an orgasm so intense gripped him he wondered if he'd black out.

Bryony screamed, her face blazing with ecstasy. Soft, big wings exploded out from her shoulders, surrounding them both, carrying them together up to the ceiling as Wyatt was held inside her, her walls pulsing around his shaft as he spilled his seed into her, spilled his own scream into the room to mingle with hers. They floated up there for a moment, billowing waves of pleasure holding them up there, strong and real and so stunning that Wyatt thought his head might blow off from the joy of it.

Very slowly, very gently, they eventually sank back down the soft bed. The sensations lessened, gradually ebbing away. Wyatt carefully collapsed on top of her, half off to the side, holding her close to him as their gasps overlapped. Her sweaty skin beneath his, her intoxicating scent filling him, were his entire world as every other thought still stayed far away.

“Wyatt,” she said in soft, lazy voice, the sound already edging toward sleepy.

He chuckled, masculine pride rearing up in him even as he fought his own satisfied yawn. He meant to say, “So it was good, huh?” but instead he somehow whispered, “I love you, babe. Always have.”

He froze, shocked that the words had fallen out of his mouth without his permission. But he relaxed when she murmured back a sleepy “Mm,” snuggling into him and letting him hold her tight. More quietly, she added, “What was that? Did I really have—were those wings?”

Her curious tone was almost obliterated by another yawn. Wyatt grinned into her hair, taking a deep inhale to smell her and sighing back with contentment. “Yeah. You're special, Bry. My Bry,” he said in wonder, gently stroking her back.

“Sleep now,” she murmured against his chin, her entire body relaxed.

Holding his mate close, feeling everything right in his world, Wyatt did just that.