Page 30 of Wolfsbane

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please. I need you to.”

His throat flexed again. Another swallow. Another nod.

Once he eased his fingers out of me, he held his cock steady. Impatiently, I tried to work myself down on it, but it was thick and I was—I . . . I didn’t know what I was doing, just that it was an absolute imperative that I get him inside me that very moment.

I’d maybe only taken an inch or two when Viktor let himself go. His broad hand cupped my ass, and he helped pull me down.

I struggled to keep my head up, to hold his eye as he entered me. I wanted to remember this, the way he looked and the way he felt all tangled up together. My arms shook. My legs squirmed in a way that was more desperate than useful.

And then he was in, and my balls felt so full and heavy, and I swear I couldn’t move even though it was the only thing in the world I wanted.

Still holding myself upright with my hands on his knees, I rolled my hips. Viktor gave a little groan, then he lifted me up and pulled me back down.

It was hot. Not figuratively, but the feeling of his skin inside. The stretch made it more so—like the discomfort translated right into a furnace, trapped between us.

“Fuck, Viktor,” I whined.

And just like before, we found our rhythm. I rolled my hips and he guided my body and it was⁠—

It was a strange sort of bliss. Discomfort faded into something else that made me wish he would bury himself in me, that I could grind my balls against his groin and lose myself in this forever.

“So good,” I rasped. “Fuck, please⁠—”

He wrapped his hand around my dick, and I cried out. I couldn’t keep my head up anymore, but let it fall back, let my body drag every bit of pleasure it could from him.

His other hand squeezed my ass as he stroked my dick. My toes curled, and the heat exploded. It shot through my balls then straight out my cock in streams that covered his fingers.

His breath hitched, the muscles in his abdomen clenching. His parted lips trembled, and he came too. Fuck, he was gorgeous when he came.

We stilled slowly, panting. My arms were trembling, but I didn’t trust myself to push upright. My body was spent.

“Viktor—” I whispered.

He knew, without me asking. He gathered me up in his arms and tipped me forward so I could fall on his chest. There, steady and safe, I caught my breath and tried to gauge if anything had changed.

I didn’t feel an awakening, not that I’d even know what that felt like. I just felt good.

But there was one thing witches learned early. In the little space between our bodies, with my head buried against his chest, I tried to call light to my fingertips.

Nothing.

I didn’t . . . even after that, I didn’t have magic.

A sick horror twisted through me that I’d—I’d pressed that on him for nothing. If I didn’t have magic, we were still screwed. Just now, I was exhausted. Even more useless than before.

Maybe it was because I’d stolen his wolf. Maybe Viktor wasn’t magic anymore, so he couldn’t awaken anyone.

Or—

With a shaky breath, I sat up.

“Give me your hands?”

He set them so they were cradled in mine. I hoped—well, I wasn’t sure what I hoped for.

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked. “Just . . . imagine light filling your palms, like you’re cupping water.”

His brow knit for a moment, and there. There was that glow I’d expected.