She almost moaned before he even made contact.
And then he did, and she simply couldn’t hold it in. She let out a sound.
Though all that seemed to do was spur him on. He pushed his lips against hers more firmly, almost hungrily, one hand suddenly in her hair. And just as she was thinking it was a lot for her to take, she felt it. The hot, wet flicker of his tongue over hers. Teasing first, barely there, but when she couldn’t contain another sound of pleasure and shock, he did it again. He stroked into her, in a way that didn’t feel tentative.
It felt like being fucked, and so much so she moaned heatedly into his mouth. Which of course only made him bolder. Now he was pushing against her, his mouth rocking over hers, every move the hottest, slickest thing she could imagine. By the time they broke apart, they were breathless, trembling, beyond any kind of coherent speech.
But they didn’t need it.
He put a hand on her waist, and she knew exactly what he intended.
Second base, she thought, and it was ridiculous, it was silly, it was so back-seat-of-his-dad’s-ancient-Chevy-during-high-school. But the thing was, they’d never gotten that far back then. Neither of them had ever done anything like that, not with anyone. This was just an echo of all the nights they’d never had.
And the realization made her wilder than she had ordered herself to be. It made her scramble to untie the ribbon at the neckline of the nightdress, and once she’d halfway managed, she took his hand. She urged it underneath that almost-parted material.
Then thrilled right to the roots of her hair, when he did the rest.
He pushed in, eagerly. And oh god, his reaction when he felt what he found, when he cupped her bare breast, gently. His whole face seemed to go slack; his eyes stuttered closed like he couldn’t stand to watch on top of touching. And he made such a sound—guttural, almost a growl. Then again, when she arched into that gloriously tender caress.
In fact he did more than that.
He tightened his grip. And oh it was good.Wowit was good. She wanted to do nothing but tell him how good it was. To gasp,oh yes please, more, yes, touch me just like that. But it was as if he heard her anyway, because she didn’t have to say a thing.
He just caught the tight tip of her breast between his finger and thumb, then bent his head. And licked. He licked. Just once, just lightly, like he was testing it out. But it was enough to make her buck and say his name and oh god she thought maybe, oh no maybe oh god definitely—
She was going to come.
She was actually going to come—and over solittle, again. And okay sure, this wasn’t all her. It was something else, something that made her greedy and lust-choked and always half a breath away from losing it when he did almost anything at all.
But even so, that seemed way more into this than she was probably supposed to be. He’d taken longer to come while actually touching his cock, and he was a full-blown werewolf who hadn’t been able to put so much as a finger on himself for the last decade. It was understandable for him. It would not be understandable for her, a near-enough human who had masturbated merrily at least a few times a week for that same length of time.
But it was happening all the same.
She could feel it unfurling low down in her belly, and swelling through her clit, intense enough that it took pretty much everything she had to stop herself from making a completely disgusting sound, or shoving herself against him. She sank her teeth into her tongue hard enough to hurt. Grabbed handfuls of the bedsheets to keep herself where she was.
And still it wasn’t enough.
Because she could feel the other thing she’d done.
She’d made a slick mess. And it was definitely noticeable. She could hear it when she moved. Hell, she could see it, glistening between her bare thighs. And she knew the moment he saw it, too. He seemed to stiffen all over; a low sound of near confusion came out of him. But just as she was about to explain, he seemed to sink toward her.
Like the sight dragged him too deeply into this to ever get back out.
And once he was there, he couldn’t stop himself leaning over to taste what she’d just done. First with a long, slow lick over one glistening inner thigh. Then another over the other, more frantic than the first. And finally he let out a low, desperate groan and just did exactly what he’d said he’d wanted to.
He buried his face between her legs.
Though the word “buried” really didn’t do it justice. It didn’t cover the way he wrapped his arms around her legs. How he cupped and spread her thighs so he could get as close as he clearly wanted to be. And not one word of what he had said told her how it would feel when he rubbed himself against her.
How the burr of his stubble almost stung, almost hurt. But also seemed to intensify every spark of pleasurable sensation. She got the rough drag of it, right over her clit, and felt that swollen little bud pulse. She felt it ache. She felt that bliss spiral through her, until she knew she was making a mess of him. She knew, but couldn’t care.
Because it only made him work harder.
He rubbed his face into all that slickness, like an animal seeking heat. And he didn’t just lick as he did. He lickedintoher. Over and over again, until it started to feel like something she didn’t want to put a name to. Like it was too much to put a name to it.
But her mind supplied it anyway, in a hot, uncheckable rush.
It’s like he’s fucking you with his tongue,it said. And it was, it really was, and not just in a normal way, either. Because that firm, slick thing felt wolfish—too long, and thick, and rough. Andyeah, that shouldn’t have been good in the same way everything else was. It shouldn’t have given her the same surge of pleasure as all the more normal things.
