His Lost Queen by Annie Whipple

BELLE 

Kyle had been right when he’d said Grayson would be possessive for a while. Grayson was acting more than just possessive–he was acting completely insane. 

About five minutes after arriving at the hotel, he ordered me a mountain of food from room service and had it delivered to the room. 

He never stopped touching me in one way or another, and his eyes were pitch black and completely. terrifying with the presence of his wolf. 

He barely spoke except to explain things to me, give me orders, or tell me for the millionth time how sorry 

he was and how he would make it up to me. 

Even then, his sentences were usually only one word. It was painfully obvious that his wolf was very much in control of the situation. 

The moment the food arrived, Grayson sat me down on his lap at the dining table and put a plate of food in front of me. 

It was some sort of creamy–looking pasta with chicken. It looked and smelled delicious. He had his own plate in front of him as well. 

“Eat,” he said, motioning to my plate. 

I didn’t need to be told twice. I was absolutely starving. 

I was only about three bites into the absolutely incredibly sinful meal when I felt Grayson brush my hair away from my shoulder. I could feel his gaze on my red, irritated, infected mark. 

I when 

I he brushed his thumb over it gently. 

“Eat,” Grayson repeated. I hadn’t even realized I had stopped chewing, waiting in anticipation to see what he was doing. “You need food.” 

Then he leaned down and kissed the mark, nearly causing me to choke. His lips felt so good on the wound I couldn’t help but let out a small moan. 

“What about you?” I asked, sounding breathless. He hadn’t touched his food yet. 

“Just cat, Belle. Don’t make me tell you again. 

“Sheesh.” I murmured. “Bossy much?” 

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I took another bite, just happy to get some food besides peanut butter sandwiches, cereal, or leftover scraps from the diner into my stomach. 

Once Grayson seemed to be satisfied with the amount I was eating, he leaned down and kissed my mark once again. 

I squirmed in his lap. I tried to ignore him, but that proved impossible when his tongue slipped out and ran over the spot. To my immense embarrassment, I felt my panties start to dampen. 

I couldn’t help it; months apart made his touch feel even better than it had before, if that was 

possible. 

“Grayson,” I said, elbowing his stomach lightly. “Stop that.” 

He didn’t listen to me. He continued to lap at the mark, running his tongue over it and then sucking the skin into his mouth repeatedly, leaving kisses in between. He was driving me insane. 

“Eat,” he said once more against my skin when he noticed my chewing had stopped. His voice was significantly lower than it had been minutes before. He continued kissing me. 

How the hell did he expect me to keep eating when he was doing that? He knew how sensitive that spot was, and yet, here he was, torturing mc. 

“Do you have to do that right now?” I whined even as I unconsciously tilted my head to give him better access. My face heated up. “You’re being very distracting.” 

“Your mark isn’t healing properly because we were apart for so long. The more time I spend tending to it, the less pain you will be in.” 

I glanced down at his plate of untouched food. “Don’t you want to cat, though? You have to be hungry.” 

“No, I want to take care of you. You need food, and you need your mark to heal.” 

His teeth suddenly scraped against my mark, nearly causing me to shoot out of his lap with pleasure. I gasped. 

With his hand on my hips, Grayson settled me back down, growling low. He actually had the nerve to seem annoyed with me. 

“Stop squirming and eat,” he ordered for what felt like the millionth time. 

“You’re going to make me choke on my food if you keep doing that,” I complained. 

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*肉血35% His hands squeezed my hips in a warning. “Don’t talk about you getting hurt. I’m already on edge.” 

I rolled my eyes. Grayson said nothing else as he pushed my plate closer and then handed me my fork that I hadn’t realized I had dropped. 

“Eat. 

And his lips were back on my neck. 

*** 

The rest of dinner was brutal. Grayson seemed perfectly content to suck and lick at my neck. For me, however, finishing my meal proved to be extremely difficult. 

To my immense embarrassment, I was practically panting by the end of it, leaning completely into him, my head tilted to the side, encouraging his torture. 

I felt languid and relaxed and utterly at peace. At the same time, though, I had never felt more wrung 

1. up. 

My panties were extremely wet, and my clit was pulsing, begging for attention from his sinful tongue still on my neck. 

His purring was so loud that it basically drowned out any other sound in the large room. I was totally and completely attuned to him and his every movement. 

I wiggled against him, an embarrassing whining noise escaping my lips before I could stop it. 

Grayson smiled against my skin. “You doing okay there, baby?” 

I rolled my eyes. As if he didn’t know what he was doing to me. 

“U–Um…” I could barely form a coherent sentence. “Grayson…” 

“What?” he murmured, his lips gently skimming up my neck and to my ear. “What is it, beautiful?” 

I squirmed. 

He inhaled deeply. “Do you need something, Belle?” His voice was significantly deeper than it had been only minutes before. 

I nodded. 

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“What do you need? Tell me what you want.” 

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I sucked in a breath and squeezed my eyes shut. He knew what I wanted. Was he really going to make me say it out loud? 

**Touch me, Grayson,” I begged. “Please, I need you to touch me.” 

“I am touching you, baby.” His hands smoothed over my hips which were exposed by my bunched–up skirt now around my waist. Sparks followed. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

That motherfucker. 

I wanted to tell him what I wanted. I wanted to be that confident girl who could take charge and be sexy without trying. But Grayson or Azazel, I guess–had really hurt me. 

I spent months hating–well, trying to hate Grayson after what I thought he did. I had only forgiven him a few hours before, and he already had me in his lap, begging for his touch. 

His power over my body and mind scared the crap out of me. I didn’t totally trust him, not yet, at 

least. 

The last time I had considered doing anything sexual with Grayson had been when he was trying to take advantage of me back at his pack house. 

I had told him no over and over again, and he… I didn’t want to think about how he responded to that 

or how devastated I felt afterward. 

His index finger skimmed over the front of my panties, bringing me back to reality. He didn’t touch anywhere too intimate, but the soft brush of his hand was enough to gain my attention. 

“You’re in control, Belle,” he said softly, surprising me with his change in tone. He sounded much 

calmer now. 

“I’m not going to do anything unless you want me to. I need you to know that. You’re always in 

control.” 

My body loosened a bit. He had said the exact words I needed to hear. How had he known to say that? Had he read my mind or something? 

No. I shook my head. He was my mate. He knew what I needed because we were made for each other like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. 

I turned myself in his lap so I was facing him, straddling his waist. I could feel his hard member 

citting beneath my thinh nuleina with life 

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I swallowed nervously, my eyes widening. It looked like Grayson’s body wasn’t the only thing that had gotten bigger. 

Grayson leaned back and watched me, casually putting his hands on the armrests on either side of me as I settled down on top of him with my hands on his chest. He raised an eyebrow. 

I hated how sexy it was. 

His hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles were white, and the wood started to splinter the tiniest bit as he waited for me to speak, obviously trying to hold himself back. 

His dark, hungry, red–black eyes studied me, moving from my heaving breasts to my exposed pink panties, which I was sure had a visible wet patch on the crotch. He licked his lips, his nostrils flaring. 

“I…” I hesitated, totally mesmerized by the expression of desire on his face. His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and it was like a calming wave washing over me. “Will you kiss me?” 

He groaned. “Fuck, yes.” 

With his hand cupping the back of my neck, he led my mouth to his, launching me into a sensual attack that I was in no way ready for. 

This kiss was different from the ones we had shared before. 

While the other ones had always been sweet and caressing, communicating love and caring, this one. was dirty and deep, communicating our passion and desperation. 

“If we were a normal couple,” he had said back in the hotel in Paris, “we would’ve had sex multiple times by now. 

He had said that only a day after meeting me. I knew werewolf couples were extremely sexual and touchy—I had witnessed it firsthand when I was at his pack house. 

The fact that Grayson–an extremely dominating and powerful alpha male had been able to hold himself back for so long was a miracle. 

It was evidence of the truth behind his words. He really did want me to be in control. 

But he didn’t have to hold back anymore. 

I gasped against his mouth when he squeezed my butt in his hands, pulling me closer to him, allowing him to sink deeper, his tongue wrestling with mine. 

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Pleasure bloomed everywhere. In my chest, in the buds of my breasts, between my spread thighs, across my pulsing mark. 

Before I knew it, I was settling my wet core directly over his rock–hard member, aided by his hands on my waist that immediately knew what I was after and eagerly helped to lift me into place on top 

of him. 

We both groaned at the contact, his lips becoming even more frantic against mine, something I didn’t even know was possible. 

I needed friction. I needed movement. My hips started to move on their own accord, dry–humping him. He helped me, leading me over his cock and teaching me how to thrust. 

“Fuck, you’re trying to kill me,” Grayson rasped against my mouth, his voice husky and rough. 

His hands never stopped moving my hips, continuously brushing my clothed clit over the zipper of his jeans with precise precision. 

My fingers curled around his shirt, suddenly desperately wishing he wasn’t wearing it. What we were doing now wasn’t enough. I wanted to feel every inch of his hard body against me. 

“Grayson….” I whined. 

He kissed me again, driving me completely mad. He pulled away seconds later, and I gasped against him. “Tell me what you want, Belle.” 

My hips started to move faster against him, my breaths panting. “I…I need…” I didn’t even recognize my own voice. “I don’t think I can say it out loud.” 

“Do you need me to help you?” 

My chin bobbed up and down. 

His eyes flashed. His hands on my hips forced me to slow my thrusts, and he leaned forward, his lips so close to the skin of my car that I could feel his hot breath rustling my hair. 

“Say, ‘Grayson, please touch my wet pussy,“” he said, providing me with the words. “Please make me come…over and over again.” 

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His dirty words made everything in me light up with fire. “Grayson….” I started.. 

His grip on me tightened in anticipation, jerking my clit against his zipper roughly once. Twice. 

Three times. I moaned. “Please touch…please touch my wet pussy,” I said, my words rushing out. 

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