But now, it’s as if I’ve never been with anyone in my life. It’s ridiculous. As if I’m the virgin one, not her. Every light touch of her hand, every glimpse of her face and body, brings me to the brink of an orgasm. I’m so fucking desperate for her.
Her other hand joins the first, moving over my pecs, over my nipples, then down to my stomach that’s clenched tightly as my cock twitches.
“You have so many…” She trails off, a small crease forming between her dark brows. “Muscles.”
I snort. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s... nice.” Her hands tickle my sides, then return to my stomach, to my navel, tracing it. “You’re so strong.”
“I could pick you up with one hand,” I brag.
“No, you can’t.”
“I absolutely fucking can. And I could toss you onto the bed.” I smirk. “And?—”
Her small hands lightly push on my chest and, obeying the implicit command or request, I lie back against the tub. My cock bobs upright, out of the water, and she leans back a little, staring at it.
Fuck me...
A shift is trying to come over me. I’m that far gone. The base of my cock aches where my knot normally inflates. I’m fully aware that such a thing would send her running. Even female wolves are hesitant when a male wolf goes into a rut.
What the fuck, am I going into a rut? My body has taken the reins.Mate,my mind whispers,mate,but it won’t happen.
“And this…” she breathes, brushing her forefinger over the silver bar, tapping it lightly.
The sensation breaks me out of my thoughts as a jolt of unadulterated pleasure shoots through me.
“Fuuuck…” I groan. The gentle tapping vibrates through my cock, balls, and my entire being. I shift my hands to grip the rim of the tub so tightly the wood groans, too, echoing my sentiment. “Woman...”
“You like that,” she whispers, glancing up at my face. Fuck knows what my expression looks like. “You really like that…”
“I like anything you like,” I grunt, “anything you want, just don’t…”
“Don’t, what?”
“Don’t stop.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ROSAMUND
I’m so aroused. I’ve never ached so much inside before. I need his touch so much I want to cry, I need… need him where I burn.
But I told him not to touch him, need him not to touch me, and this contradiction is tearing me apart. How can my body exact something when my mind tells me I shouldn’t give in? I’ve never been pulled in two directions like this before. Growing up, I knew what I had to do, where I stood, and what was in store for me. Despite the nightmares and scars, I knew there were ground rules, and if I followed them, I’d probably be all right.
Those rules were thrown out of the window the moment I ran away with Valen and didn’t return. I couldn’t return, that’s the truth, not with my family waiting to kill me, but the end result is the same: my world has been turned upside down once more, and I don’t know where I stand.
Of course you do. You should stop touching him. You should get dressed. You should put distance between yourself and this werewolf. As you very well know.
But his rock-hard chest is irresistible. Partly it’s because it’s such a male, absolutely male chest, the exact opposite of mine. His pectorals are like bricks, his nipples so small and hard, hisstomach chiseled, his ribcage twice as wide as mine. And then lower, his waist dips and his hips are narrow, unlike mine, and…
And yeah, let’s stop pretending I’m not fascinated by his cock. I wouldn’t know whether all cocks are like his, so large, so thick, so veined and curved, but I do know that most men don’t have metal in their cocks.
Della would have told me if so, surely?
I mean, men—and women—generally don’t have metal in their tongues, either, be they human or fae. As far as I know.
Which… now that I realize how much Idon’tknow, is a bit of a concern.
