50. Coyote
FIFTY
COYOTE
I woke in my bed, alone, like so many times before. All of a sudden, images of the day before flashed through my mind, and I was out of the sheets like a man possessed, eyes roving the room to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
A small figure in the center of my bed groaned and wriggled beneath the blankets, protesting my sudden movement.
“Come back to bed, Coyote,” a small voice muttered, and my speeding heart ground to a halt as I realized my panic was in vain. “You need more rest.”
I lifted the covers slowly, peering underneath them to reveal the source of the voice. Ivy was curled into a ball, one eye open as she regarded me with a soft smile.
It melted my soul like wax beneath a flame.
“Ivy,” I said stupidly, just staring at her as she snuggled deeper beneath the blanket. “You’re here.”
“I’m about to be somewhere else if you don’t get back in bed and stop letting all the warmth sneak away.”
“Why are you in my bed?” I asked in confusion, curious and very disoriented. “Why are we in my room?”
“I carried you back here when you passed out on top of me in the woods,” she admitted simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world for a small woman like herself to carry a whole ass two hundred pound man over two miles to his home.
“By yourself?”
She nodded, blushing. “How else was I supposed to get us to safety?”
I crawled back into the bed, realizing with sudden clarity that I was not wearing a single stitch of clothes.
And I was very, very hard.
An image of my hand around her throat as I promised her I’d never let her go flashed behind my eyelids, and if it were possible to be any more stiff from the waist down, I was managing it quite nicely. Hell, I could probably beat someone to death with my dick, with as hard as it was in that moment.
“That’s—”
She yawned and snuggled closer to me, reaching behind her as her head and shoulders popped out from under the blanket. A single piece of wrinkled paper sat in her hand, and with a wave of panic and horror, I realized she’d found the fucking poem I wrote for her when I was half-mad with sleep deprivation and desperation.
“Devotion,” she said simply, shooting me a wink as she tugged the paper just out of reach when I made to take it from her. “Is nothing more than the purest form of love. When one is incapable of the latter, the former becomes the default.”
Lines from my poem. “You read it.”
“Of course I did.” She cocked a brow at me curiously, and I groaned. “Aw, what’s wrong, Coyote? It’s good.”
“Good for a mute, or good for a child?”
“Good enough to make me spend the last twenty hours at your side because I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you woke up.”
I reared back, shocked beyond words as she snaked her arms around my neck, dragging her lips across my chin as she nibbled her way to my ear. I groaned, and she rewarded me by shifting to sit atop me, her core suddenly right against my cock.
Seemed like I wasn’t the only naked one here.
“Where are your clothes?” I gasped, hands on her hips, ready to lift her and save us both some embarrassment. “Where are mine?”
“I took a bath and washed away the streets. And you looked like you could use one, too, so I stripped you and washed you down by hand.” Her little shrug was endearing, creating a dimple in her shoulder that I wanted to stick my tongue in. “That a problem?”
“You—I?—”
How the fuck was I going to tell her I was a virgin?
It was embarrassing enough that I’d never had a woman before, in all the years of my life. But to tell the only woman I could ever see as my life partner?—
“You looked at me like you might eat me in the woods,” she said breathlessly, dragging herself along my length, letting me feel her dampness as her soft folds parted around my shaft when she tilted her hips. “Are you still interested in having me for a meal?”
“I . . . did not go to this kind of finishing school,” I said quietly, hating my inexperience. “The only mating I’ve ever witnessed was between two wolves.”
There. It was out there. If she decided she wanted to end it here, I couldn’t blame her. She deserved to know the truth?—
She rocked her hips again, moaning as her head fell forward and her hair shielded her face from view. “We all start somewhere,” she panted, dragging her folds over my length again, eagerness in her movement, breathing labored. “Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”
“You deserve someone who knows?—”
“If I wanted a whore, I’d call for Dingo,” she snapped, her teeth nipping at the lobe of my ear as she leaned over me. “What I want is the man who reads and recites poetry to practice words he never tells me. I want the man who’s part beast still. The man who chased me and pinned me down in the forest, promising he’d never let me go.” Her nails dug into my shoulders, raked down the front of my torso as I bucked beneath her and she arched her back, leaning away from me again as her hair parted to reveal her breasts.
I reached out and cupped one in my hand, testing its weight as my thumb dragged over the sensitive nub in the center. She made such pretty, appreciative sounds in my ear as I touched her, explored her body, that I couldn’t help but keep going, eager to learn everything she was willing to teach me with her body .
“Fuck, Coyote, I?—”
I covered her mouth with my hand, forcing her to meet my burning gaze. “No words. Only sounds.”
She tugged my hand down to free her lips, a smile forming on them. “Can I say one thing?”
“What one thing?”
Her grin widened, and she leaned over my chest, her fingers drawing lazily on my skin as she adjusted herself above me.
“Santiago,” she breathed against my ear as she rocked against me and took me inside her heat, warm and wet and holy shit was this what I’d been missing all this time? Fucking hells, this was ? —
“Who told you my name?” I growled, leaning up on my elbows as she bounced on me, riding me in a way I’d never seen a wolf recreate. It felt so good, I thought I might explode if she stopped, so I didn’t move to change a thing, even though I yearned to flip her around, lean over her, and fuck her into the mattress.
Where did that come from?
“You did,” she whined, rising and falling as she swallowed my shaft with her body, over and over, dragging the damn thing out of her almost to the tip before she fell on it again. “Last night.” She dropped her voice in a poor mockery of my own snarling growl. “My name is Santiago. And I’m never letting you go.”
Did I really say that?
“Stop lying,” I panted, covering my face in shame. “No.”
Her hands dragged mine away from my face. “I loved it,” she insisted, baring her teeth at me. “Bring him back. I’d like to meet the unrestrained beast you turn into when you catch your prey.”
Like a switch had been flipped inside me, I yanked her off my cock, flipping us over on the mattress so that she was pressed into the sheets. Growling, I slipped a hand under her waist and yanked up, baring her ass to me as she bent under my hand and whined. Her legs spread as I knelt between them, and with a groan, I sank myself into her wet pussy, my sounds animalistic and raw as I claimed her, released the beast I’d been raised as, my hips slamming into her with reckless abandon.
I needed this. Needed her. Needed to breed her like I was in a rutting frenzy myself. My whole world zeroed in on her, and she arched her back, looking back at me with a wink and a smile.
So I grabbed her hips and went deeper, arching over her back so I could grab her hair with my free hand and tilt her head to meet mine.
The whimper that left her lips as I claimed them mid-thrust was mind-numbing, intoxicating, beyond erotic. I came inside her, hips bucking wildly as she reached a hand between her legs and touched herself.
Shame washed through me at the thought I might’ve forsaken her pleasure in search of my own. I opened my mouth to apologize, until?—
“Fffuuuuckkkkkkkk,” she groaned, burying her face in the sheets as she shuddered around me, muscles clamping down on the length of my cock. She throbbed around me, and I groaned as her body milked me for every last drop of my seed, desperate and needy and awash with pleasure.
She whispered my name as her shudders ceased and collapsed into the sheets, spent and sated.
Suddenly, apologizing was the furthest thing from my mind.
The whole night, we tried every position, speed, and technique she could think of. They were all so new and exciting that I was eager to revisit my favorites—and hers—at the first opportunity.
By dawn, we were just starting to drift to sleep. I’d never felt so . . . happy.
Yes. That was the word I wanted. This was happy. This was contentedness. This, being with her, enjoying each other, keeping warm in each other’s arms, was the thing I’d lacked for so long. She filled a void in me that I didn’t even know I had, and I couldn’t imagine another day of my life without her.
As she murmured my name in her sleep again, a soft smile spread across my face.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
I would sleep, but this time, when I opened my eyes, she’d be here. A part of the Neon Dogs forever now.
Ours.
Mine.
Always.