We part, and I whisper through panting breaths, “Don’t be gentle.” He groans desperately as my words unleash his restraint, and then we’re both frantically removing our remaining clothes. I moan when the heat of his bare skin meets mine as hard muscle meets soft skin. I don’t care that he’s adding more marks to my skin as he runs his fingers down my breasts and sides, palming my ass and pulling me into him.
His hand snakes between my legs, rubbing my clit and spreading the arousal dripping from my entrance over my pussy, then his cock.
He notches himself at my opening, but I whimper when he stops.
“Yes or no?” My answer is immediate. I use my legs to pull him inside and whimper at the stretch of him as his head falls to the pillow beside me.
“Jesusfuckyou feel so good,” he moans.
“More.” It’s simultaneously a plea and an order, and he laughs breathlessly, posting back up and grabbing my hips with both hands, eyes fixated on where we’re joined. He withdraws, and then everything else in the world disappears except for the stretch of his thick cock as he works it inside of me, again and again and again, until every inch of him is where it belongs.
My breath stutters when he hilts me, and he drops his forehead to mine. “You’re so fucking tight I need a minute.” Despite the indescribable fullness, the pressure on my cervix, my hands run down his back and reach for his ass, pulling him into me.
“Baby—God. Fuck. On your knees.” I nearly cry when he pulls out, but then he’s turning me onto my stomach, pushing my ass up so I’m on all fours, and mounting me. My elbows buckle as he begins to thrust, and then sob from the pleasure of him rutting into me hard enough to make our skin slap.
The sounds of our sweat-soaked bodies meeting violently with shared arousal is a symphony he orchestrates to drive every other thought out of my mind except the mounting pleasure between my legs, and the fire running through my veins. He starts groaning with every thrust, and the pillow is wet with my tears, but it feels like we’ll both die if we stop.
“Gimme one, baby. I need to feel you squeezing around me before I fill this perfect pussy up.” He flattens me into the mattress with his weight and snakes his arms around mine until our fingers are threaded together, never stopping his thrusting.
“You can do it,” he moans. “You can do it for me.”
His praise ignites an explosion of heat that seizes me in its grasp and refuses to let go.
“Oh good girl. Such a good fucking girl,” he laughs, and then I can only lay there, shaking as he uses my body so thoroughly I fear I might float away if he stops.
“God—I’m so close. So fucking close ohfuck, fuck—” I gasp when pressure like I’ve never felt before fills me so completely that I orgasm again as he tries to reach the deepest part of me, that sacred place where there’s no beginning and no end and nothing else matters. He lets go of my hand and snakes his arm under my neck, rolling us to the side even as he continues his shallow thrusts, kissing my neck and pressing on my pelvis with his other hand.
As our breathing slows, awareness creeps in, and I realize the pressure inside of me hasn’t gone away.
“What is that?” I ask, not bothering to open my eyes from where I’m laying my head. His thrusting slows and then stops entirely, hard cock still inside of me.
He exhales sharply and answers with a shaky voice, “It’s—it’s a knot. Just—something werewolves do.”
“Okay,” I whisper, but then he’s pulling his arm out from under my head and off my stomach.
“Should go down in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I murmur, basking in the afterglow of two incredible orgasms. Every so often, he tries to pull out and I feel a tugging sensation that eventually eases enough for him to slide his cock out of me. When he crawls off the bed, I assume he’s getting a washcloth or something, but when I hear the clink of his belt buckle, I open my eyes and sit up, pulling the sheet over my breasts.
“What—?” I ask, but he doesn’t look at me as he starts talking and finding the rest of his clothes.
“That was great. Thanks.”Thanks?
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, yeah I have to go.”
“I thought?—”
“I didn’t realize how late it was.” For the second time in as many hours, icy dread trickles down my spine. He’s leaving. He said he was going to stay, and now he’s leaving.
He said he was going to stay.
Unlike earlier, I don’t lose myself in the chasm of hurt that’s cracking my chest open. Unlike then, my mind becomes still, and numb.
“You said you would stay.” It’s a statement, but I can’t help the hint of longing that bleeds into my voice as realization dawns that I’ve just done it again. I believed this night couldn’t get any worse, and the universe proved me wrong.
“I mean, you were great—really—but you know this doesn’t mean anything, right? It was just… a good fuck. Stress relief. Nothing serious.”
