Chapter 36 - Wolfson
I’ve imagined this moment in a hundred filthy, half-formed ways over the years, never believing it would actually happen. Never believing I would be standing in front of a woman, let alone the hottest Disney princess that ever existed, waiting for her to strip for me.
God’s balls on a gold chain, I’m fucking feral for Dove Rath. Like I’m shaking, panting, so fucking turned on I’m making a dick-dribbling mess in my underwear.
I hope she’s leaking, too. I want her honey all over my face.
My heart slams, and every nerve in my body fires at once. I’ve only ever seen one woman naked, and those moments in the cabin with Frankie are bound in pain. Nothing my mind can twist into pleasure. Nothing that taught me a single damn thing about how this is supposed to feel.
Everything I know about sex, the mechanics, the rhythm, the way bodies fit and react, I learned from porn.
All the porn. Every category, kink, and gender combination.
Not because I needed it. Hell, I can get off with my imagination alone.
But I wanted to understand the rules. The steps.
How to make someone feel good. How to take someone apart slowly.
How to read a body in all its aroused glory.
Not gonna lie. My extensive research has made me cocky as hell.
I’m a fast learner. Especially when the thing I want to learn is standing right here.
Her eyes lift to mine, pupils blown, and lips swollen. Her breathing comes quick and fractured, like she’s trying not to melt into the floor. She’s not stepping back.
She wants this.
She wants me.
I’ve held her hand, kissed her lips, brushed my mouth along her throat, and seen her pierced tits.
But not this.
This is a locked door in my scarred chest swinging wide open.
This is the monumental, long-overdue surrender of my virginity.
My body throbs so hard I can barely catch a breath. I’m harder than I’ve ever been, my need so rabid it blurs the edges of my vision.
She floats closer, her throat bobbing and her hands hovering near my stomach. Her lashes lower and lift, and her breathing tumbles into a soft shiver as her gaze rests on my mouth.
That look alone nearly makes me come.
Then she speaks. “We need to talk about the things that trigger you. The types of touches. Pressure of fingers. Memories tied to certain positions. Your off-limit zones and—”
“Remember when we met, and you refused to talk? I think you said five words in one week.” I widen my eyes. “Look at you now. Giving TED Talks instead of getting naked.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“I’m being serious.” She folds her arms. “I need to know what shuts you down, speeds up your breathing, makes you freeze and feel cornered, makes you feel safe…”
“Are you done?”
“I won’t touch you until I know how to touch you right.”
“Listen up, Little Menace. You will touch me.” I grip her jaw, thumb dragging across her lower lip, forcing her mouth open, wide enough for her to know what I intend to put in it. “But first, I’m touching you. Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”
I step back and make an impatient gesture.
A tiny sound escapes her, something between a sigh and a plea. Then her hands go to the hem of her shirt.
The first inch of bare skin appears, and my vision tunnels.
The shirt lifts higher, revealing a flat stomach, the faint rise of ribs, and the slope of full breasts below the bunched fabric. My breath stops.
She hesitates for half a second, staring up at me. Then she pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it away.
No bra.
My heart rips open.
She’s inconceivably, irrationally breathtaking in a way the world isn’t prepared for.
Blue hair falls in glossy, rebellious waves around her shoulders.
A silver hoop in her septum, a small diamond above the center of her lip, a spike glinting from her brow.
Her whole face is a contradiction, sharp and soft, fierce and heartbreakingly vulnerable.
Beautiful on an eccentric level that isn’t delicate.
It’s bold and unexpected like a sucker punch.
And her body…
Holy unholy hell.
She swapped the little hoops for silver barbells, the metal decorating her plump nipples so perfectly. I want to buy her all the jewelry. Not that she needs adornments. Her skin is fair, warm-toned, and kissed with a beauty mole on her collarbone.
My pretty little sinner.
A vicious rush of arousal sends my hand to my cock, my fingers choking the damn thing through my briefs, trying to hold off the threatening orgasm.
Her gaze follows the movement. “Do you need to—?”
“Not gonna come in my pants, Tiny Terror. But you need to hurry with yours.”
Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she shoves the final piece of clothing down her legs and kicks it away.
Then she’s completely bare.
Small hands. Small feet. Toned legs. Honey, lust-soaked eyes. A witchy little waist that nips dramatically before curving into hips I’ve been obsessed with since the moment she crashed into my life in that ruined wedding dress.
And holy fuck, her pussy is right there. Her sweet, luscious, fully exposed pussy.
My blood pressure spikes so fast I swear I black out for a second. I can’t move. Can’t blink. I can only stare, knocked absolutely stupid by how stunning she is.
Gods forgive me. The things I’m going to do to her… I don’t even want forgiveness.
“Dove.” My whole world tilts toward her. “I’m going to touch you now.”
“Fuck yes.” Her skin flushes beneath my hungry stare, pink blooming everywhere. “Touch whatever you want, however you want.”
I lunge, sink my hands into her hair, angle her head, and kiss her with everything that’s been starving inside me for twenty-four years.
She moans against my mouth, my new favorite sound, and her warm, satiny skin meets mine. All of her glides against all of me, all at once, until I’m nothing but burning flesh and painful, fisting pressure between my legs.
This is it. The moment my life starts.
This is happiness.
This is the reason I crawled out of that river alive.
I back her against the kitchen table and brace a hand on the edge while the other roves down her spine. She arches into me, pressing her chest to mine, her hips catching my bare thigh.
Her scent rises to meet me, clean skin and soft female arousal, driving my pulse into a frenzy.
“I’ll come back to this.” I lick into her mouth one last time and move to her jaw, her throat, and the slender line of her collarbone.
She gasps when my lips find the spot beneath her ear.
I take my time, dragging my tongue along the tendon in her neck, tasting salt and sugar. I bite gently at the place where her pulse flutters, memorizing the subtle jerk of her body and the way her breath breaks in a sigh.
“Wolf…” My name crumbles off her lips.
I smile against her skin and move lower, tracing the edge of her collarbone with my mouth, chasing it from one shoulder to the other. I kiss every inch, sucking faint marks into her flesh with obscene devotion.
The hollow between her collarbones. Definitely one of my favorite places.
From there, I lick a path down the center of her chest, stopping to press my mouth between her breasts. Her heart drums wildly beneath my tongue, matching my own chaotic rhythm.
“You’re killing me.” Her fingers tangle in my hair, nails scraping across my scalp.
“You’re reviving me.” I nose along the swell of one breast, then the other, deliberately avoiding the beauty mole for now.
Tease first. Worship later.
Little goosebumps rise under my breath, and her nipples tighten in the cool air. I bring one into my mouth, closing my lips around dewy skin and cold metal, sucking with gentle friction, testing what she likes.
“Fuck.” Her whole body shudders, back bowing and hands clamping tighter in my hair.
That’s going on the list. Her breasts. The piercings. The way she loses control when I suck them.
I give each one reverent attention, switching sides, changing suction, and learning every reaction. Low whimpers. Shaky breaths. The way her thighs press together and shift restlessly with each pull of my mouth.
When I lift my head, her cheeks glow with color, lips parted, eyes dazed. The sight nearly drops me.
“Angel Face,” I murmur. “You look wrecked already.”
“Proud of yourself?”
“Very.”
I straighten and, in one rough sweep, drag my forearm across the table behind her. Sketchbooks, pencils, and coffee mugs crash to the floor. I don’t care. I need her on that surface.
She lets out a startled laugh that turns into a yelp as I grip her thighs and lift. She’s light in my arms, all tight muscle and lush curves.
I spread her out on her back, hair falling around her like spilled ink.
When her eyes lock onto mine, it hits me.
After twenty-four years of emptiness and ache, I’ve been given the priceless, unworthy privilege of making Dove Rath come.
“I’m going to ruin you.” I bite her hipbone.
“Too late.” A shaky smile tugs at her lips.
“Oh, my dirty bird. I’m only getting started.” I circle the table slowly, skimming my fingers along the sinuous shape of her.
With each step, I pull a chair out of my way, my attention never leaving her gorgeous body. When I reach her face, I drag my knuckles along her jaw. Her lashes flutter and lips separate on a hiss.
I bend to kiss her pierced Medusa, the tiny diamond seductively centered in the indentation above her full upper lip. Then I follow the arch of her pierced brow with the tip of my tongue.
She shivers, eyes closing.
“This one.” I return to the Medusa, teasing it with my thumb. “Drives me crazy.”
“Most people hate my hardware.”
“They don’t hate it. They’re intimidated by it.” I lower my mouth to the hollow of her throat and spend more time there.
Her shoulders are another favorite. Compact strength, beautiful lines, and faint scars that tell stories she still hasn’t shared. I kiss those. All of them. A silent promise.
I move to her arm, lifting it and pressing my mouth to the inside of her wrist. More kisses to the tender bend of her elbow. When I find a sensitive spot, her fingers curl into my hair.
Grinning, I drag my teeth along the inside of her forearm.
“Jesus, Wolf.” She turns her head to watch me, lashes half-lowered. “You’re merciless.”
“Then call me by my first name.”
“What’s that?”
“Yours.”
Her eyes flutter shut on a shivery inhale.
My hands roam while my lips work, learning where she’s ticklish and where she arches. I follow the slope of her ribs with open-mouthed kisses, counting each rung with my lips and continuing downward.
Her stomach jumps beneath my tongue, and a small, involuntary giggle breaks free.
“Lie still.” I swat her thigh.
“Yes, sir.”
She bites down on a smile, compelling me to bite down on the soft dip above her navel. She shrieks with laughter and quickly reins herself in.
Her stomach goes on the favorites list.
I continue my circuit around the table, pulling out more chairs with my free hand while never losing contact with her skin.
My fingertips trace lazy paths over her hips, following the dramatic flare from her narrow waist.
“These.” I squeeze, digging my thumbs into the curves. “Obsession territory.”
“You’re obsessed with my hips?”
“And your thighs. Don’t get cocky. I’m not done.”
I kiss along the length of one leg, then the other, my mouth skimming around the blond patch of hair between her thighs.
Her heels slide on the table’s surface, her legs tensing and relaxing, as if she doesn’t know whether to close them or spread them.
“Open your legs.” I press my lips to the inside of her knee.
Another on the favorites list. Inner knees.
She whimpers as I pepper kisses along her thighs, deliberately stopping just shy of where I know she’s pulsing hot and frantic.
“You’re…” She swallows a quick sip of air. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re not so cute when you’re cruel.”
“Should I stop? Because I intend to be very, very cruel.”
With a gulp, she quickly shakes her head.
By the time I complete the circle, I’ve committed a full catalog of reactions to memory.
The breathless gasp when I kiss the hollow under her jaw.
The choked curse when my teeth scrape her collarbone.
The low, helpless groan when I suck her pierced nipples.
The trembling in her thighs when I pay attention to the insides of her knees.
“Are you hard?” She cranes her neck, trying to steal a glimpse.
I give her a look. Seriously?
“How hard?”
“Put it this way. It’s a miracle I haven’t torn a hole in my shorts. I’ve leaked a gallon of precome, and at this point, if anything bumps into that general area…” I gesture at the source of my discomfort. “I’ll go off like a one-hundred-year geyser.”
“Can I see?”
I groan. “Exposing myself involves touching it, and touching results in—”
“Old Faithful?” She traps a squirming smile between her teeth.
“Old Faithful erupts every ninety minutes.” I return to her face, bracing one hand beside her head, the other spreading wide over her ribs. “Since meeting you, I’m significantly more active than that.”
“Yeah?” She breathes in short gasps, looking as worked-up as I am with her damp skin and hard nipples. “What’s your eruption frequency?”
“Dangerously high.” I drag my nose along hers. “By the way, I found at least ten favorite parts.”
“Only ten?”
I crush my mouth to hers, and she opens against the pressure of my tongue, welcoming my consuming kiss with breathy whimpers, her hands finding my chest, and tracing the bubbled welts.
Her tongue rolls against mine, hot and soft, clashing between our lips. Mouths open and fused, we lick and groan, growing wilder, messier, and more frantic by the second.
As I devour her, my thumb drags across her nipple, tracing the barbell. She arches, a helpless noise ripping from her throat.
Yeah. That one never gets old.
I keep her right on the cusp with only a kiss, edging her toward release, pulling back when I know she’s close, and circling the table again. I touch her everywhere except the one place she wants me. I kiss her until her body goes heavy and restless. Then I torment her again.
“Wolf, please.” Her legs shift, and her hands grab at me like she doesn’t know where to hold on.
“Time for another angle.”
She blinks up at me, confused, until I grab a chair and drag it directly to the end of the table.
I sit, muscles thrumming and blood roaring in my ears. Then I grip her ankles and tug.