"Yes," I moan. "Yes, like that, don't stop—"
He shifts his angle, lifting my hips, and the next thrust punches a cry out of me.
"There?" he asks, even though he knows the answer.
"Fuck, yes, there, please—"
He drives into me harder, hitting that spot with every thrust. The sounds I'm making are obscene—whimpers and moans and his name, over and over, like a prayer.
I feel his hands grip my hips harder, and something's different—his nails sharper, pricking at my skin.
"Knox—your hands—"
"Too much?" He starts to pull back.
"No." I grab his wrists, keep his hands where they are. "I like it. I like feeling how much you want me."
A growl rumbles through his chest, low and possessive. "You have no idea how much I want you."
He thrusts harder, and I cry out. His claws prick at my skin, leaving little crescents that mark me as his right now, in this moment.
"Knox." I'm clawing at his back now, probably leaving marks of my own. "Knox, Knox, Knox—"
"I've got you." He kisses me, messy and desperate. "I've got you, sunshine."
I clench around him at the endearment, and then I feel something—at the base of his cock, something swelling.
"Toby." His voice comes out rough, barely human. "There's something—fuck—something I should have warned you about."
"What?" I'm barely coherent, still rocking against him. "What is it?"
"Shifter thing." His hips keep moving in small, involuntary thrusts. "There's a—at the base—it swells. When I'm close."
My eyes widen. I can feel it now, stretching me wider. "Oh. Oh, that's—"
"I can pull out. If it's too much, I can—"
"Don't you dare." My legs tighten around him. "I want it. I want all of you."
All of him. Even the parts that aren't human. Especially those parts.
"It's going to stretch you," he warns, even as he starts moving again. "Going to feel so full—"
"Good." I pull him down, bite at his jaw. "I want to feel you everywhere. Want to feel you tomorrow."
He loses the last thread of his control.
He drives into me hard, and I take it. Take everything he gives me. The swell at his base is growing with every thrust, catching on my rim, making me gasp and clench and moan.
"Oh god." My voice is wrecked. "Oh god, Knox, that's—so much—"
"Too much?"
"No. No, don't stop, please don't stop—"
I feel how stretched I am around him, how my body is working to accommodate the extra girth. It should be too much. It's not. It's perfect. It's everything.
"Touch yourself," he tells me, his voice more growl than words. "Want to feel you come on my cock."
