I hated it here.
“So unfair,” I mumbled again, looking anywhere but at him.
“What is unfair, little mate?” He tilted my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his eyes. He was breathtaking. Absolutely devastating. “Tell me.”
“That you can smell me but I can’t,” I whispered the truth. It was frustrating. If I had to be embarrassed, the fair thing would be for him to be embarrassed too. Equal humiliation. That was only right.
“You wish to know when I am aroused?” His voice dropped even lower and he yanked me closer again, eliminating the distance he’d just put between us. “Is that what you want, little mate?”
I didn’t think before I answered. “Yes.”
His smirk was absolutely wicked. He grabbed one of my hands, the touch sending electricity up my arm. Then he dragged itdown his chest. Over those ridiculous abs. Down to the blanket barely covering him.
I swallowed hard.
He cupped my hand over his cock through the fabric and groaned deep in his chest.
He was hard. Steel hard. Massive and throbbing beneath my palm.
“This is how I am every time I am around you, little mate.” His voice was barely human. All gravel and need. “It does not matter where we are or what we are doing. Do not be mistaken - I yearn for you every single minute of the day. There is not one second I do not wish to be around you. Inside you. Behind you. In every single fucking position imaginable.”
The words hit me straight in the core. My breath caught. My hand was still pressed against him, feeling him pulse beneath the thin fabric.
I squeezed.
His reaction was immediate. A guttural moan tore from his throat. His grip on me turned bruising. His eyes rolled back slightly.
I did it again. Squeezed harder. Stroked along the length of him through the blanket. He was huge, impossibly thick, and I could feel every ridge and vein through the thin fabric.
“Little mate-” It was a warning. “You should stop. If you keep-”
I kept going. I didn’t know what had come over me. Didn’t recognize myself. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t resist the temptation to see him come undone.
His head fell forward against my shoulder. His breathing turned ragged. Desperate. His hips moved involuntarily, thrusting into my hand.
“Wen-” My name was a prayer. A plea.
I stroked him faster, squeezed harder, wrapping my fingers around as much of his length as I could. His cock was pulsing against my palm, growing impossibly harder. I could feel the pre-cum soaking through the blanket, making the fabric slick. His whole body was trembling against mine, muscles tensing as he fought for control.
Then he was coming. His cock jerked and spasmed in my hand, and I felt the wetness spreading rapidly through the fabric. He made a broken sound against my shoulder, half moan and half growl, as his release pulsed again and again. I kept stroking him through it, feeling every throb, every shudder that wracked his body. The blanket was soaked now, clinging to him, and I could feel the heat and wetness against my palm as he emptied himself with a final, desperate thrust into my hand.
He panted against me. His entire body shaking. His grip on me was the only thing keeping both of us upright.
I cleared my throat. Pulled my hand back. My right hand was tingling where I’d touched him. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. What had possessed me to-
“I’ll make dinner,” I blurted out.
Then I ran. Bolted up the last few stairs without tripping this time. Didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back because if I did, I’d see him standing there, wrecked and gorgeous, and I’d do something even more stupid.
I burst into the apartment. Stood in the middle of the kitchen, breathing hard.
What the hell had I just done?
I’d just made a werewolf come on the staircase. With my hand. Through a blanket. While he told me he wanted me in every position.
My hand was still tingling. I could still feel the weight of him.
Fuck dinner.
