When I wake, Ella's round bottom is undulating against my hard cock. Her back is flush against my chest; her naked body is perfectly nestled between my larger form and the edge of her nest. I was undoubtedly already aroused when she stirred; sleeping beside her each night is increasingly challenging, especially now that our relationship has become overtly romantic. I fell asleep with the taste of her honeyed nectar lingering on my tongue, after another session of pleasuring the unconscious Ella to pacify her wolf.

I open my eyes, tightening my arms around my sweet mate and trying to silence my wolf's excited growls. Such a needy little mate. He's crooning.

My Ella. Mine. It hasn't escaped his notice that my mouth is mere inches from her lovely neck. So close—it would be so easy. Just one little bite.

I rumble in sympathy, pressing my lips to the juncture where her shoulder curves into her throat, but I force myself to stop.

This is my consolation prize. I can kiss her claiming spot as much as I want; I can even nibble it occasionallyor frequentlyor perhaps just a tiny biteNO! I quickly break free from the reverie, cursing Ella's delicious scent.

This is torture. My wolf complains. I can't believe the Goddess would send us a mate and then refuse us the ability to claim her. It's sadistic—criminal!

Ella, however, isn't making things easier. The naughty creature is still suggestively rubbing her bottom against me, pretending to be asleep. She's taking deliberately even, heavy breaths—far too intentional to be genuine sleep.

I've spent more time than I care to admit watching this little wolf sleep, and I recognize an act when I see one. The nerve, I think amusedly. As if all her rocking and wriggling is just tossing and turning, not a calculated assault.

"I know you're awake, trouble," I purr in her ear, rewarded with a small giggle. Chuckling, I prop myself up on an elbow and roll Ella onto her back, both relieved and disappointed to lose the stimulation of her lush behind. I duck my head and claim her lips, dragging my palm down to her swollen breasts, stealing her breath.

Ella moans and arches into my hand as I drag my thumb over her nipple. We continue this way for a while, saying good morning with our bodies, enjoying every moment.

When I finally pull back, bumping her nose with mine, I gaze into the bottomless pools of her golden eyes. "Well, imp? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"It wasn't my fault," the brazen thing says, batting her eyelashes—the very picture of innocence. "I woke up and it was practically stabbing me; what else was I supposed to do?"

In hindsight, she could have done much worse. If I'd woken first and found Ella aroused, I would have chosen from a dozen debauched ways to wake her.

Images race through my mind: Ella splayed before me, whimpering in her sleep, climaxing before she even—Get your mind out of the gutter! "You were supposed to wake me up so I could get things under control—not try to seduce me," I grin, flashing my fangs to show I'm only half-joking.

Ella drops her head back and groans. "It isn't fair! You get to touch me all you want, and I never get to return the favor!"

"Because I don't trust myself not to lose control," I remind her for the tenth time, anticipating her usual rebuttal: but you're always in control. "All bets are off when it comes to you, Ella."

Ella huffs but peeks up curiously. "I was thinking" she begins hesitantly, toying with the hair on my chest.

"Mhmm?" I prompt, tracing my fingers down her tummy.

"Maybe we could have more dream dates," Ella muses hopefully. "Then we could both have some fun."

I blink in surprise. "Sweetheart, do you think I'm not having fun? That I don't enjoy giving you pleasure?"

"No, I know you do," Ella answers, blushing bright red. "In fact, I think you might enjoy it too much," she adds ruefully, earning a laugh. I know she's been overwhelmed by my dedication to pleasuring her, but I don't feel sorry. She deserves it all.

"But I like giving pleasure too," she admits. "And I feel guilty that you never getrewarded."

I should have realized that someone as generous as Ella would want to give as much affection as she receives, but I wasn't joking about my struggles with control. "I'm sorry, baby," I say honestly, kissing her deeply. "I know it's difficult. And believe me, I wish I could be buried in your sweetness"

"Dominic!" Ella exclaims, scandalized.

"Tsk, poor little wolf," I chuckle, "raised by those prudish humans." Ella growls adorably, and I mentally debate how often is too often to outrage her sensibilities. I love her blushes and never want to lose the ability to shock her. For now, I decide dirty talk will only make abstaining more difficult. "The point is, I wish I could be buried in you 24/7, but we can't."

"Not even in our dreams?" Ella asks earnestly.

"Maybe if we dream in different beds," I concede. "But it would be dangerous sleeping together. If I can feel you in my arms while making love to you in my headit would be a recipe for disaster. I might even claim you unconsciously."

Ella lowers her gaze. "Okay, I suppose that makes sense."

"It's only a few more months," I say, offering comfort. "And towards the end, you probably won't want me near you. You'll be so uncomfortable, ready to get this baby out, that you'll probably want to rip my head off for putting it there in the first place."

Ella frowns, and I think I've misspoken. A moment later, she asks, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," I agree, too quickly. She truly has me wrapped around her finger. "When we first met, and the doctor worried about the baby being too small, you mentioned your mother had been told the same when she was carrying you," Ella reminds me thoughtfully. I hum in confirmation, and she continues.

"I've justI've never had women to guide me through this. There's plenty of nonsense online, but a billion women arguing about what's bestit's not the same as hearing from someone you trust. Do you know much about your mother's experience?"

I smile, my mother's face appearing in my mind. "She used to tell me that story all the time. About how the doctors thought I'd be a runt, but I proved them wrong, becoming one of the healthiest pups they'd ever seen. Every time I doubted myself, she reminded me that nothing stays the same, and you never know how a story will turn out."

"How old were you when she died?" Ella asks gently, snuggling closer.

"I was six," I say softly. "I don't remember much, but I remember that story and her smile. I learned other things from my father, but those memories are my own."

Ella offers a bittersweet smile. "Would you tell meonly if you want toI'm just"

"How she died?" I guess, knowing Ella is curious but hesitant to make me share a difficult story. I nod. "That seems fair, since I've been asking you about your traumas."

"Still, you don't have to tell me unless you want to," Ella repeats firmly.

"It's okay, baby. You should know—it's only right."

I take a deep breath, transporting myself back, and begin.