A Bleacke Wind (Bleacke Shifters Book 3) by Lesli Richardson

made her feel like she was the only woman in the world, the only one he’d ever touched.
    Nothing in her life had prepared her for the totality of Beck’s love and devotion, the way his heart eclipsed everything else, drawing her in. A few months ago, if anyone had told her some crazy white boy on her bus would end up being her husband, she would have given them serious side-eye before backing away from them.
    Much less the wolf stuff.
    Miracles did happen. This man now kneeling between her legs was proof of that.
    When he bent his head to her mound, she buried her fingers in his hair and held on tight, her heart racing at the throaty growl he let out in response. He loved it when she did that, dug her nails in, anything physical.
    She loved how he wrapped his arms around her legs and held on as he went down on her and made her come twice for him, the contrast of his light flesh against her deep brown skin, the way his entire body felt like warm, living granite. She might be a big girl, but he was real and solid and for the first time in her life, he made her feel delicate and vulnerable in all the good ways, physically and emotionally.
    He opened his eyes and looked up at her, his face still between her legs, his tongue flicking against her clit in a playful staccato that drove her up to the edge again. She knew this game well now. Her breath quickened, pulse racing, knowing this time he wouldn’t let her come. He would get her close, make her beg for it, nearly drive her mad with need before he’d fuck her.
    And that’s exactly what he did, his smile telegraphed by the way the outer corners of his eyes narrowed, amused, until she finally gasped. “Please, do it!”
    In one fluid motion, he sat up and buried his cock inside her, arms braced on the bed on either side of her head, his blue gaze piercing right through her.
    “Who do you belong to, baby?” he asked.
    She held onto his arms, unable to rip her gaze from his. “You.”
    “Whose mating mark is that in your flesh?”
    “Yours.”
    He leaned in, his body perfectly hitting all the right places with every thrust. “Who does every inch of your sweet body belong to?”
    It felt like her heart would somersault right out of her chest. “You!”
    He leaned in, his lips closing around her right nipple, flicking it with his tongue and pulling more gasps of pleasure from her before he moved to her left nipple and repeated the treatment. She felt it when he changed pace again, shifting his hips to a slightly different angle.
    “Fair warning if you ever do decide you want kids,” he hoarsely said, “You and I will take several weeks off, and I’ll spend every waking moment I can with my cock buried inside you, filling you until you’re pregnant. And then I’ll spend the next nine months after that spoiling you rotten.”
    Her heart twisted in a good way, and for a moment, all she wanted to do was make him fulfill that promise right then . He already spoiled her rotten. She could only imagine what a doting father he’d be.
    Raising her siblings after they lost their mom had been a struggle, a sacrifice in every sense. Giving up college and going to work, living in shitty government-subsidized housing, giving up free time and a life to make sure they were fed and clothed and doing their homework.
    And she’d do it all again, too, to ensure they had a good life.
    But damn, it would have been a hell of a lot easier with a good man and a fat bank account. Naturally, before Beck, she’d rarely thought about having kids of her own. Other than a brief marriage that ended in divorce years earlier, she hadn’t had a man. She’d finally reached a point in her life—as had her siblings—where she could finally breathe and relax.
    A slow smile filled his face. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
    She licked her lips. “Maybe,” she whispered. “It’d be hard to explain to them, though.”
    “Who?”
    “The kids.” That was how she frequently