Cardinal House (The Blackwell Brothers Book 4)

17. Luna

The weed is forgotten as he flicks it from his fingers, his arms threading up my back, hands curling over my shoulders, his mouth surging against mine.

Wolf’s lips are soft yet hard, plump and desperate and pressured. He hauls me up against him, higher in his lap, my pussy rubbing up against his hot, hard belly, the rippling muscles catching my clit. My hands fist in his hair, tearing out the elastic that holds it tight in a loop at the back of his skull. He moans into my mouth, biting my bottom lip as my fingers card through his hair, gripping at the roots and yanking his head back.

He growls into the kiss, the sound vibrating my tongue, running down the length of my vocal cords, and expanding in my chest like fingers of heat stretching and curling and claiming my heart. His big hands are firm on my shoulders, heavy, his fingers curled over my trapezius muscles, kneading and digging to pull me in closer.

Wolf Blackwell kisses like death.

As though the grim reaper is hovering at his back, peering over his shoulder just waiting for the right moment to strike and he doesn’t want to miss his chance.

It’s stolen.

This moment.

From the next life, he drags it into this one by the throat, kicking and screaming, and then he tears it to pieces so the moment can’t be taken from him.

Wolf Blackwell kisses like death, but I’ve never felt so alive.

His kiss is a claiming. Like he needs the taste of me permanently seared into his tongue. The feel of my lips moving hungrily against his to survive. His breath is a hot wash of desperate desire as he tears his mouth from mine, flicking his tongue across my top lip before sinking his teeth into the bottom. He stretches the skin out, his teeth nibbling before he lets it go, the wet flesh slapping against my bottom row of teeth and then he’s diving in again.

I’m not sure what I’m doing, but he leads and I follow, and I kiss him back with a desperation that feels just as dire as life or death. And considering the two of us have recently walked hand in hand with death himself, this feels more than accurate.

I bite into his mouth, our teeth clashing as his tongue snakes through my lips, curling around my own, mapping my mouth like he’s memorising it. The tip of his tongue traces the roof of my mouth, every ridge and dip, sliding over my teeth, dipping into each molar, and grazing across the tops.

It feels like life and death, horror and romance. And when he kisses me, surging against my hips, pelvis lifting, thrusting his hard cock up against my arse, and flipping me onto my back, cradling my head, the wood of the wrap around porch snagging at the cotton of my shirt, I melt.

Wolf grinds himself against my bare cunt, the thin material of his joggers doing absolutely nothing to hide his erection. His mouth explores every inch of my face, his tongue caressing the bullet graze along the side of my head, before dragging down, mouthing at my cheekbone, the corner of my jaw.

On all fours above me, he spreads me out beneath him like a picnic blanket with a mouthwatering buffet. His tongue searing hot as it scorches down the column of my throat, dipping into the hollow at its base, and then grates his teeth along my exposed collarbone, the oversized t-shirt I wear having slipped down. He bites into me so hard that pain explodes in my temples, his palms flat on the wood either side of me, only his hips dropping to collide with my own, gyrating unconsciously in a filthy display of need.

“Wolf,” I gasp, my breath rushing out of me as I dig my nails into his scalp.

He lifts up, hissing at the sting, skin embedding itself under my nails as I let them bite into him harder, and then he’s lifting back up onto his knees. His hands fisting at the neckline of my shirt and ripping it clean down the middle. My back lifts with the tug and tear before the warm summer night’s air is pebbling my nipples, his tongue lapping over the left one and then the right.

Frantically, Wolf’s hands claw at my hips, his thumbs pressing divots into my pelvis, and then he lifts them up into the air. Head dipping, his mouth suctions over my clit, his tongue flicking savagely over the pulsing bud clenched between his teeth. A rumble ripples its way up his chest as he clings onto me, my weight balancing on my shoulder blades, my chin dropped to my chest so I can watch him tear me apart with his teeth.

He sucks his way lower, his tongue plunging into my hole, in and out, in and out, his nose burrowing against my clit until my entire body is trembling and the flat of his tongue is lapping up the length of me. Teeth nibbling the hood of my clit, and then his mouth is over me, sucking, sucking, sucking.

I grit my teeth as I come. Heat washing over every inch of me as wave after wave of pleasure wraps itself around me like a corded noose made of passion and lust. Black spots sluice across my vision, these splodges of darkness blurring my sight as Wolf laps lazily at my cunt, making sure he gathers and consumes every drop of my release.

When he lowers my hips back to the floor, settling me down on the torn t-shirt, pushing my arms away from his hair and down to the wood beneath us, his fingers latched around my wrists, so my elbows are bracketing my head, he follows. Bracing himself on his forearms on either side of my head, my own arms between. The lower half of his face is shiny and slick, and he sinfully drags his tongue across his lips, first the top and then the bottom, savouring my flavour with a deep rooted groan.

Heart pounding, my breath heaving in and out of me, I stare up at him.

My protector, my saviour, my wolf.

No words pass between us, but I can feel his cock pressed firmly against my wet flesh, my legs spread wide to cradle Wolf’s hips. I flatten my feet to the deck, squeezing his sides with my bent knees, and then I curl my legs around his hips, crossing my feet at the ankles and tugging him down so he’s completely flush with me, letting his weight press me further into the deck.

There’s resistance from him, but not enough for me to relent. He comes willingly, and I can tell he’s only holding back some of his weight so as not to crush me. The press of thin, worn cotton against my naked flesh feels obscene, but the press of his thick, swollen shaft beneath has my hips rotating unabashedly. My knees tighten around him, and he gives in.

Grinding himself against me, his gaze holding mine, his nostrils flare wide, his breath coming hard and fast between his teeth. It’s like something else takes over, and neither one of us is completely ourselves. Lost in the throes of love and death, deep rooted want is the sharp reminder that we’re both still here.

Wolf draws back, staring down between us as he circles his hips, pressing himself against me so hard that the friction of his clothes feels like fire. He stills suddenly, his breath a wash of heat rushing over my face.

His whiskey coloured eyes find mine, holding my gaze and then he dips down, his lips barely a caress over my own, as he whispers, “Mine.”

Wolf bites my lip, my chin, his chest smushed up against mine so hard I can feel his heart, can feel the erratic thudding of it as though it’s beating inside the cavity of my own chest. His lips feather along my collarbone, his teeth grazing my shoulder.

“More,” I breathe, my fingers coming to rest against the base of his throat, the top of his chest. The whisper just enough to still him completely, even his breath is held in his chest, “More, Wolf, please.”

A whimper slips past my lips, breathless and needy as he growls, a deep grumble rolling its way up his throat as my bloodied nails scratch into his chest.

“Not all the way,” he tells me. Shaking his head, like the action is more for himself than it is for me, “Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay,” I squirm beneath him, his hands rough but gentle as he grasps my face, kissing my lips fiercely, “just, please, more.” I plead with my eyes, the pout of my lip as he lifts his head just enough to look down at me properly.

Without another word, he pushes up onto his palms, lifting one and threading it between us.

“Watch,” he instructs, gritting his teeth, his neck corded with strained tendons.

Wolf wraps his hand around his cock over his joggers, squeezing. He slips the elastic waistband down lower, exposing more of the neat, dark trail of hair that stretches from his navel to his cock. His Adonis belt carved like cut marble between his hips, but he doesn’t push them off, his cock still covered, the worn fabric almost moulded around his length in a way that makes my lip tremble seeing the size.

Wolf is a large man in every way, he’s six-foot-six, as broad as a house, and has muscles more solid than diamonds, but I didn’t think I’d have to worry about the size of his cock. I’ve never even thought about it until right now.

“Don’t move,” he whispers over my mouth, both of us still staring down, between the length of our bodies, “and just let me in.”

He brushes the tip of his nose across mine, his top lip ghosting across my mouth, and then the tip of his dick is pressing to my opening, pushing in no more than an inch, the material of his joggers between us. The wetness of my cunt soaking the fabric covering his dick, and he groans, watching as he drags the tip back out, the light grey material now a deep, dark charcoal.

“Fuck, Little Moon,” he breathes. “You are such a good girl,” he grunts, dipping back inside me, stretching me, the material rough against the silken opening of my pussy. “So pretty and pink,” he praises, lifting his eyes to mine, one hand planted beside my head, his other combing through the tresses of my hair, cupping the side of my head in his big hand. “Perfect little cunt, all wet, just for me, huh, baby girl?”

“Yes,” I respond breathily, my eyes on his as he pushes just a little further inside me, “just for you,” I gasp, the crown of my head grinding into the wooden floor, my spine curved and lifted in an arch from the deck. “Yes, Wolf.”

He shudders, his hips dropping lower so he’s further inside of me, his eyes heavy lidded, making me catch my breath at the slight burn. And then he’s pulling out, tearing his hand from my face and shoving his waistband down. Taking his cock in his hand and pumping it insanely hard, once, twice, and then he’s groaning, this deep, guttural, animal sounding roar, the slide of his hand a firm corkscrew curl up his length.

Cum shoots from his tip, painting me in his creamy release, hot, sticky ropes of white land on my pelvis, my belly, the top of my thigh. Wolf stares down at it, his back heaving with his panting breaths, he pushes up onto his knees, his cock hanging heavy and thick despite it going soft, it’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen.

The tip of that was just inside me.

My cheeks flush, warmth pooling in my belly, my thighs clenching as I stare at it, still exposed over the elastic waistband of his joggers. Shyly, I flick my gaze up onto Wolf, but he’s not looking at me, he’s staring at his hands as they come up to my hips and then he’s pushing his hands up my lower belly, rubbing his release into my skin, both hands landing in the streams of silky cum and massaging it into me. He watches his hands, and I watch his face, his eyes hard, a scowl settled in his brows like he’s taking this task very seriously.

My lips are parted, and even as he pushes too hard over some of my bruises, I don’t flinch, I don’t ask him to stop, and I know he would, if he knew it was hurting me, he’d ease off. But those tender spots his strong, thick fingers work over, just make me tremble with his attention, like he’s replacing the pain put there by someone else with a piece of him. It feels settling.

Heat between my legs warms my thighs, a quiver running through them as Wolf’s hands palm my breasts, his callouses catching my tight nipples, making me gasp, arch my back, push into his palms. His eyes lift to mine then, his face hard, features set like stone.

“I’m never letting you go, Little Moon.”

My chest rattles as my heart attacks my sternum in a quick, constant clap, thundering and battering my ribcage as his yellow-honey eyes latch onto mine.

There’s violence in the way he says the words, this black, glittering thread that wants to tether our souls together.

And I allow it to.

This darkness, it creeps from him, oozing possessively from his pores, tiny, clawing whispers of smoke extending towards me like reaching fingers, and I let them in. I invite it inside of me, this piece of him, and let it make itself a home there. It feels heavy. Tears springing to my eyes as Wolf’s hands still, their grip possessive. His own eyes burning into mine.

“You’re mine, Luna. And no one is ever going to take you away from me.”