Mating [M] 2

I laugh breathlessly, the sound light, teasing, but it does little to mask the heat simmering just beneath my skin.

Thorne's fingers trail along my waist, lazy circles, his touch featherlight yet searing, like burning embers against my skin.

The aftermath of our frenzied hours together still lingers in the air—the scent of sweat, the faint musk of our combined pheromones, the damp sheets clinging to our bodies like whispers of what just transpired.

I feel sore, spent, but there's a contentment that thrums in my bones, settling deep in my chest.

And then—

"Want to go again?"

His voice is low, husky, a perfect blend of wicked amusement and unrepentant desire, and I can't help but snort out a laugh, turning my head to face him.

"Again?" I echo, tilting an eyebrow in disbelief.

I can still feel him inside me, the ghost of his touch imprinted into every fiber of my being, and yet—he's already hungry for more.