I stand there, trying not to laugh as he changes tactics and pulls his shirt down over his humongous erection. He may have covered his cock, but his engorged sac still swings hilariously below the hem.
Wincing, he curses as he bends down to gather his shoes. He then attempts to smash through the beads, nearly garroting himself. Knowing exactly how this is about to go, I listen for his stomping footsteps. He gets as far as the counter and stops. His curses, which are interspersed with angry yips and groans, escalate in both imagination and volume.
“Problem?” I ask, sliding through the beads to find him half-shifted and banging on my beautiful counter.
Fuck. Wolfie’s balls are so fucking swollen it’s making me drool.
“Could you maybenotdestroy my shop while you find a way to accept what’s happening here?”
“No!” he barks. “None of this is acceptable.” He bends over, hands on his knees. “And why is everything so fucking swollen?” he whines.
I spread my hands. “Because the universe thinks we’re meant to be together. Sorry, buddy. I’m in the same situation. Let’s go upstairs and get some relief. We can figure out the specifics later.”
He looks up from his bent position, his canines descending as he pulls back his lips into a snarl. “You don’t have to look so happy about this.”
I sigh. “You called it. I’m thrilled. An uninterested wolf shifter is everything I ever wanted in a fated mate,” I deadpan.
He straightens with a pained expression and startswalking toward me, his menacing look equal parts sexy and terrifying.
“Fine,” he says between gritted teeth as he pushes me back through the beads. “Take care of this.”
“Fine,” I snap back and fall to my knees, palming his gorgeous, overfilled nuts. “But if I didn’t fucking need your cock so bad right now, we’d be having a conversation about some fucking boundaries.”
Before he can think of a retort, I lick his dripping cock, then tilt my head back, letting out a satisfied, guttural croak. His fluid is literal perfection, ambrosia on my tongue. I need it like life, so I take him to the back of my throat, gagging on him, hurrying him along so I can swallow his divine cum.
Thing is, he’s just standing there, and I need… something. Energy, excitement. Participation, at the very least. I pull away and look up at him, giving him my best pouty lip.
“Fuck my mouth. I’m begging you.”
Instead of going for it, he stills his hips. I look up and find fear, so I sit back. “Too much?”
“I—” Words fail him, but the burning look in his eyes is easy enough to read. “Fine.”
Grabbing my head with both hands, he plunges his cock back into my mouth, his heavy balls bouncing against my chin. He doesn’t stop until my nose is buried in his pubes and my body is spasming from the tilt-a-whirl combination of gagging and needing him to go so much deeper.
I’ll never get enough.
Mercifully, he pulls back enough to give me oxygen,then forces his way back into my mouth, twitching his hips to fuck my throat as he stays buried. Our gazes meet and I start stroking my cock, needing this intensity like the air he’s currently denying me.
Swiftly, he pulls out again. “Fuck, I’m about to knot.”
I chirp, imagining my lips stretched around it.
He shakes his head. “Whatever you’re thinking—no. It could break your jaw.”
I pout in response. “But I’m thirsty.”
Ignoring my adorableness, he rumbles, “So… where’s this fucking bed you were telling me about?”
I point to the staircase leading up to my studio apartment. Curling his upper lip, he bends down and picks me up in a princess carry, then storms up the stairs like a knight taking a castle. The details of my apartment matter not—he beelines for the bed, practically throwing me on it.
“Where’s the lube?” he demands.
I point a shaky finger to the bedside table, then check my hair in the mirror. He circles the bed and pulls out the drawer so violently it breaks the track, spewing the contents onto the floor. I’d be mortified about the variety of prostate stimulators on display for Goddess and everybody, but he’s too busy pawing through them to get to the lube to pay attention.
He barks in triumph when he finds the good stuff, then throws it to the bed as he wrangles out of his clothes. “Hands and knees.”
I hurry to assume the position, my cock a quivering, leaking fountain of need while my hole and taintexquisitely contract and release in preparation. I’m about to come from thepreparationalone.
