Inking the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance (Wolves of Crookshollow Book 3) by Steffanie Holmes

Author:Steffanie Holmes [Holmes, Steffanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bacchanalia House
Published: 2017-08-09T16:00:00+00:00

14

Robbie

Wow.

All the nights I’d lain awake, my dick in my hands, imagining what it would be like being with Bianca … my wildest dreams were nothing compared with the reality. My body still buzzed from the heat of our mating.

Bianca’s head rested on my chest, wisps of her pixie hair trailing across my skin. Her chest rose and fell, a perfect rhythm. Through the grimy attic window, pale moonlight streamed across the bed, illuminating her skin with an eerie glow. I rubbed my finger over the wound on the side of her neck, the mark that said she was mine.

She’s mine.

Even though exhaustion clung to my body, and from the sounds of the dying party below it must be the early hours of the morning, I couldn’t sleep. I could only count the knots in the wooden planks along the wall, and replay scenes from before. Bianca’s lips on mine, Bianca’s tiny, pert breasts, her nipples hardening under my touch. Her tongue sliding along my cock … the way her mouth opened when she came …

Damn, now I was hard. I’d never be able to sleep.

Bianca let out a tiny snort, her eyelids fluttering before settling still. Her arm weighed down on my chest. I groaned as a cramp seared along my arm.

Bianca wasn’t a morning person, especially after a night of partying. She’d sleep for most of the day. Meanwhile, this cramp wouldn’t get any better, and my stomach was starting to rumble. I’d been too nervous to eat before the wedding, and too agitated to enjoy all the amazing food at the party.

As gently as I could, I dragged my arm out from under Bianca. She moaned a little, settling back into the pillow as though I’d never been there. I rolled off the tiny bed and grabbed a clean set of clothes from my rucksack in the corner. I backed out of the room, half certain that when I returned she’d disappear, like a mirage.

I padded downstairs, trying to avoid the creaking steps, but pretty much every wooden board in this old house creaked. A Dutch artist collapsed at the foot of the attic stairs lifted his head and glared at me. Half a cupcake was stuck to his forehead.

I picked my way across the first floor landing, trying to avoid disturbing the overturned bottles, glittery costume remnants, streamers, and tangled, collapsed bodies. From the balustrade of the main staircase, Bianca’s cat Macavity glared at me, as if to say, “Look at the chaos you have wrought.”

“If only you knew, Mac.” I patted his head. Macavity shot me a disgusted look, and bounded down the stairs toward the kitchen.

I gripped the balustrade and started down the stairs. My fingers dragged through something sticky. Fuck, I don’t even want to know what that is. I yanked my hand away, fumbling my way down to the entrance hall and through the sitting room. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, casting eerie pools of light across the mess.

People slumped in every available chair and corner, bodies twisted in various contortions.

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