Posey
“You’ve always been a whiny, demanding, pain in my ass,” he pants, pinning my wrists above my head. His mouth is hot against the column of my throat as he traces a long, wet line with the flat of his tongue.
He likes it when I writhe beneath him. The smiles against my skin paint my body with heat almost as much as the rough, nibbling kisses I know will leave little marks that won’t wash off for a few days–a brief reminder of tonight.
“Keep your hands above your head. Grip the pillow.”
I obey, my fingers curled in the plush fabric. My heart races when he rises above me just enough to deftly unbutton the flannel I stole, revealing the white, damp tank top underneath. He takes a shaky breath and then chuckles darkly, greedily, and his eyes meet mine in the dim light.
“You’re perfect.”
“What?” I breathe, losing myself to the way his knee draws up between my legs and puts a breathtaking amount of pressure where I need it the most.
“Your breasts are a masterpiece.” He kisses the rounded arch of my left breast and then the right, breathing heavy like he’s desperate to hold himself back. “That's all Tate and Miles wanted to talk about. I considered beating the shit out of them for even looking in your direction.”
Before I can gasp about the fact Miles and Tate were gawking at me, he pulls down the neckline of the tank top, ripping the fabric open, and buries his face between my breasts. Now, I’m gasping for an entirely different reason. My hands fly to his hair, tangling in the strands, and he licks my nipple, growling, “I told you to keep your hands on the pillow.”
Every touch is absolutely glowingly unreal. Not too hard. Not too soft. Perfect. It’s everything I’ve been looking for, I realize as Aris’s ministrations travel lower, nipping down my belly, a swipe of his tongue against my fevered skin.
Whatever stupid nest I could have built wouldn’t have ever come close to this.
“We need to set something straight,” he says, pressing a kiss just above my navel.
“Yeah?” A breathy sigh sweeps the word away when he presses another rough kiss in the center of my belly, his hands braced against my hips.
He exhales deeply, his teeth grazing.
I shiver, clutching the pillow. “What–what do we need to set straight?”
“I’m trying really hard to be gentle with you,” he replies with great effort, his voice low and tense. “I really don’t want to be.”
“Then don’t be.”
“That’s what I need to set straight.” He kisses up my stomach, lingering on my breasts with damning, passionate kisses and nibbles that leave me absolutely breathless. When he finally comes up for air, he continues, “I’m out of my fucking mind already, Posey. I thought shifting would help, but it only made it worse. If anything that happens next is out of your comfort zone, you need to tell me to stop. That’s all you have to say. Just tell me to stop.”
I nod, but he clutches my throat, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “What do you say when you don’t like it or want it to end?”
“Stop.”
He nods, giving me a cocky, somewhat wry smile. “Good girl.”
His praise laces through me. He kisses me gently, drawing it out while slipping my shorts down my legs, taking my underwear with them. When his fingers trace up my slick inner thighs, I jump, surprised by the heat of his fingers. “I’ve never…. No one has ever–”
“It’s okay.” He presses the words against my neck and sighs, splitting my folds with a single finger. He curses something inaudible against my skin, but I’m lost, arching my hips into his touch, whimpering when he thumbs my clit. “Gods, you smell amazing.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck and rocks his hips against my thigh. I can feel him there–hard. Massive. I’m not sure what I was expecting.
“Will it hurt?”
“I won’t hurt you,” he assures me. “You’ll like it. I’ll make sure you like it.” He travels down my body again until his mouth is flush with my lower belly.
I scrunch the pillow, letting out a whiny gasp when he dips lower and kisses me somewhere new. I almost ask what he’s doing. Willow never mentioned this. My lips part, the words sitting on the edge of my tongue, but the sound that comes out is a resounding yes.
He parts my folds with his tongue. My toes curl. My knees draw up on instinct, and he smiles against my pussy, chuckling under his breath, “I knew you’d be greedy. You better keep your hands on that pillow. I’m only giving you one more warning.”
“And then what?” I pant, but he wrenches my legs further apart and dives deep. I turn my head to the side, choking on a scream of pleasure so deep I feel it in my bones.
The way he pleasures me is entirely wolfish. Using his tongue, his teeth, little bites to my inner thigh, the scratch of his stubble on my most sensitive skin. His groans and sighs only add to the madness enveloping me, threatening to send me catapulting over the deep end. My lungs won’t fully fill with air. My fingers ache from gripping the pillow. I want to touch him. I want to feel the muscles of his back slick with sweat. I want to trace his smile with my thumb.
I arch off the mattress when he slowly presses one large finger inside of me. I feel full but also incredibly empty–an utterly confusing combination. My fevered skin feels tight. The places where he kissed me before ache to be touched again. I want to crawl into his skin and stay there.
“Slowly,” he whispers against my inner thigh.
“I need–Goddess, I–” I wince as my body tightens on the cusp of something so great I’ll cry if I don’t achieve it. That warm, throbbing feeling fades as he pulls his finger out and presses it back in past the first knuckle, stretching me further. The ache is bright and new.
“You are,” he breathes, his voice trembling with effort, “very tight.”
I’m beyond words. Maybe minutes pass. Maybe hours. Maybe this is all a dream. Aris works me with his mouth and fingers, taking his sweet, sweet time, refusing to let the pleasure build too much, refusing to let me come until I’m a compliant, whimpering puddle in his demanding hands.
But I realize, during the fourth time the pleasure peaks and sizzles into obscurity before I can fall over the edge, that he’s purposefully holding me back.
“Why can’t I?” I whine, frustrated, grinding against his mouth.
“We’re not rushing this–”
“I want–I want–”
“I know what you want.” His reply is hoarse as he nips my inner thigh and licks the imprint. Nothing hard enough to break the skin. “But I can’t just fuck you, Posey. I could hurt you.”
He looks up at me, his eyes so dark they’re nearly black, and smiles wickedly as he spreads me with two fingers, then three.
I arch off the bed.
Aris is just as delirious as I am. He sighs against my clit and continues ravishing me with his tongue, his teeth, and his fingers until I’m dripping, begging him with words I’ve never once heard leave my mouth to just… take me. Lay claim to what's his.
Goddess, this heat is going to kill me if he doesn’t do something about it. It’s like he is the medicine I need. The cure. And he’s just within reach but so far away.
“Please!” I nearly scream the word, finally letting go of the pillow to grip his shoulders. He sucks in a breath and rises over me. We fumble for a moment. I squirm out of the flannel with his help. He tosses both the flannel and torn tank top clean over the railing of the loft, where it falls silently in a heap a floor below. His pants are next.
It’s only then, when we’re down to nothing but our skin, that reality brushes against me. It’s not a sweeping sensation of knowing, of the idea that we’re doing something wrong, it’s just…
“Are we crazy for this?” I whisper as he lays me back against the sheets. He’s warm. His heat is delicious. I press my swollen lips to his shoulder and inhale deeply before kissing him there, my teeth grazing his skin, and he shudders.
“Yes,” he answers simply, but then his mouth meets mine. “I suppose we are. Do you want to stop?”
“No.”
“You can’t take this back. We can’t take this back.”
“I want to know what it’s like,” I admit, meeting his eyes as he settles between my legs, smoothing a hand down the swell of my hip and the soft curve of my thigh.
“I can show you if you promise me something.”
“Anything.”
He nips my jaw and then slowly gathers my wrists above my head. “You’ll rethink this whole convent thing.”
“You know I can’t–” I gasp, trembling, as the head of his cock parts my folds and rests at my entrance.
“Consider it,” he whispers against my lips before his mouth parts in a grunt of pleasure. “Fuck, Posey…” He braces himself with his hands flat on the mattress on either side of my head, slowly pressing inside, just enough that I feel the stretch of him.
I bite my lip so hard it might bleed. “I don’t think–Aris should it hurt–”
“Just for a moment.” He kisses my nerves away. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re more than ready. I saw to it. Clutch the pillow.” I do. He thrusts in a little deeper this time, another inch giving way. I draw my knees in on instinct. “Good girl. You’re so good. You feel so good.”
When I wince, he stops and waits, waits for me to say the word that would put an end to this forever. When I relax, taking a much needed breath, he slides in deeper, his eyes on mine–steady and unwavering–like he’s watching me collapse and loving every second of me finally letting go.
“Do you know what I did after I kissed you for the first time?” he says against the shell of my ear, his cock pressing in slow, savoring the way I clutch him tightly.
I turn to him, our cheeks flush, perspiration dappling my temples. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t sleep.” He draws in a breath as he thrusts deeper, stretching me so wide I let out a breathy gasp. “I imagined this. The little noises you’d make with me inside of you. What you’d feel like with me buried between your thighs.” Deeper. Deeper. He pulls out slowly, to the tip, with a groan. “I wondered what would have happened if I stayed.”
He thrusts, pushing past that barrier, and makes me his.
For life.
It strikes me suddenly that there will never be anyone else after this.
His mouth is on mine as he slowly, carefully, spreads me open with each thrust of his cock. Pleasure winds through the base of my spine, turning my body molten.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s everything my fevered brain is so desperate for. I was right. He is the cure to my heat.
My muscles begin to contract, rippling with tension. He whispers praise against my cheek, his hands clenched into fists on the mattress while he slowly savors every moment, keeping his pace aligned exactly where and how it feels the best for me.
“Don’t hold back on my account,” I want to say, but it comes out as a moan.
He smiles against my skin, thrusting hard as if in warning. “Hush. Let me give you this.”
“I want you to feel good, too.”
“Oh, Posey,” he breathes, chuckling darkly, “you have no idea.” His voice sounds like a rake is being dragged over his vocal chords–strained and deep.
I bring my arms down to splay my fingers over his back, but he stops me so swiftly I gasp, then whine, jostling my hips in a way that makes him grunt and still.
“No.”
“Why can’t I touch you?”
“Because if you do, I’ll knot you, and you won’t like it.” His eyes are like quicksilver.
“What’s knotting?”
“Oh, gods.” He groans, dropping his face into the crook of my neck. “You’re too innocent.”
“Not anymore.”
He lifts his head, a cocky, amused smirk touching his lips, and shakes his head. But as if in punishment for my behavior, he thrusts so deep I lose my grip on reality, and finally, finally, reach that peak again. He notices, lifts onto his knees, and drags me onto his cock with force, spreading my legs wide while pressing his hand flat over my stomach to pin me to the mattress.
“Good girl,” he says, nodding, encouraging me. “Look at how perfect you are. How sweet. How fucking delicious. I want to fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”
I arch off the mattress in a silent scream as pleasure pulsates through me. Aris rolls his neck and groans, the loft filling with the sound of our pleasure–our gasps, moans, and other sounds that only heighten each sensation.
With a sharp, frustrated grunt, he abruptly pulls out. The mattress sags when he angles to the edge, giving me his back as he pulls on his pants and rises, running his fingers through his hair.
I sit up, my fingers still prickling with the urge to touch him and the ghost of pleasure still washing through my body, carrying the heat fever away on a tide. “Aris?”
“It’s all right. I need to shift, okay? Go to sleep.” He turns to me looking so…. He quickly changes his expression and bends, bracing his hands on the mattress, and kisses me. “Go to sleep. I’m going to get more rabbits.”
“We don’t need more rabbits!”
“Have you seen how big I am in wolf form? I need to eat. Four rabbits aren’t enough.”
Another kiss effectively seals my fate, and I realize, as he walks down the stairs, that I’m utterly fucked. No pun intended.
I want to tell him everything. Even the thing I can’t say out loud. The thing that would change everything.