28. Serena
When I pictured how my evening would play out, I envisioned a semi-awkward dinner with Jack, an explanation of, “It’s not you, it’s me,” when he dropped me off, and to be showered and in bed by nine-thirty.
If I wanted to get crazy, maybe I would drink a cup of herbal tea and catch up on Jeopardy! before finally calling it a night at eleven.
But what I did not see was having my date interrupted by Wolf and my friends, getting tacos on the side of the road, or crying in the middle of Wolf’s kitchen while he was feeding me. Technically, he wasn’t feeding me but making sure I was fed, but it’s virtually the same thing. Still, none of that was anticipated when I threw on my loosest jeans and a plain long-sleeved T-shirt. Had I known that I was going to have a run-in with Wolf, I probably would have taken more time on my appearance, which sounds sad considering I had a date with another man tonight.
My appearance doesn’t matter now, though, since mascara is undoubtedly streaked down my face, and my hair probably looks like a helmet from the ride.
“Shh, it’s okay, Serena, I got you,” Wolf breathes down, his words hitting my ear as he hunches over me.
“Serena, are you okay?”
“I don’t w-want to talk about my dad,” I grind out, forcing myself to calm down and break up the sobs.
“So then don’t.” Wolf’s hold tightens, dragging my body further to the edge of the stool and into his chest.
I feel selfish taking the comfort Wolf is offering; he can’t be comfortable in this position with our height difference and the stool I’m perched on. But despite the fact that I should push him away, order a car, and never, ever, ever see him again, I know I won’t do that. Instead, I do the one thing I’ve been dying to do since I found out he left me alone in my house last weekend.
Pulling back, I let Wolf’s arms fall from my side and look up at his imperfectly handsome face. His nose is crooked, his jaw is set, and his lips are almost too full for a man, making them nearly feminine in their plumpness. Individually, none of the features work, but together, he looks like a Highlander sent from another time to protect and pillage.
“Why did you leave?” I ask, cutting him off for once.
“You know why I left.”
“Because we said one time?”
He stares at me, running his tongue along the inside of his jaw. I track the movement inside his mouth, wishing that it was my tongue making those indents in his cheeks. I’m so lost in my observation of his face that when his fingers land on my neck, pushing my head back, I jolt in surprise.
“Tell me why I left, princess.”
“Because we said one time,” I repeat, swallowing against the grazes to my neck.
“You know that wasn’t why. Now say it,” he orders, flattening his hand and applying light pressure, just enough to feel the embers of panic without a full-fledged meltdown.
“Because you wanted it to be more than one time.”
He nods, emphasizing his agreement with a squeeze. “Good girl. Now tell me why you wanted me to stay.”
I meet his eyes, looking directly into the green orbs as I whisper, “Because I wanted it to be more than once.”
“Hmm,” he mutters, bringing his free hand up to wipe at the remnants of tears on my face. “We seem to be at an impasse then.” His fingers slide up and down my neck, never venturing lower than my exposed collarbone, and I can’t stop the shiver that overtakes my body. Still clothed in my shirt, puffer, and Wolf’s thick leather jacket, I shouldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of the fabrics. But somehow, Wolf’s touch defies logic, and instead of leaving trails of heat with his touch, I feel cold and in need of his body heat to warm me up.
“Wolf,” I whisper his name, though it sounds more like a plea. A plea for more, for less, for something other than the torture of his scent wrapped around my body and his fingers playing with my airflow.
“Just one more time, princess? Is that what you want to ask me?” I nod my head, but he scowls, disgust on his face. My eyes widen, and I start to pull back, but he stills me with his grip. “You think I can have you one more time, and then, what? Forget about it? We tried that, but it didn’t fucking work.” Both hands move to cup my cheeks, and his expression softens. “Princess, Serena, if I have you again, it’s not going to be a one-time thing. I have thought of you every fucking second of every goddamn day since I left your apartment. Seeing you tonight with that skinny fucker? I damn near lost my mind. I don’t know what this means or where this will go. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I don’t think I can stand by and watch as you find another man.”
“Jack’s a nice guy, he—”
“Serena, I suggest you stop talking about Jack.”
“Why, are you jealous that I think he’s nice?”
“As fuck.”
“Wolf,” I sigh, straining against his hold. “What does this mean?”
“We see where this goes; that’s what this means.”
“And what about Celeste? What am I supposed to tell her?”
Wolf quirks a brow at the mention of his cousin, a sardonic smile ripping across his lips. “Are you afraid of my little cousin, princess?”
Truthful answer: yes. The answer I give is, “Of course not.”
Wolf laughs, rolling his eyes at my lie. “She’ll survive.”
“Yeah, but I may not,” I mutter, unable to keep the words inside.
“I’m going to kiss you now, princess. If you don’t want it, don’t want this, tell me now.”
“I thought you said to stop kissing you,” I challenge, throwing his previous words against him. A deep chuckle is the only warning I get before his lips claim mine.
His kiss is soft, a caress that melts all pretense, all resistance out of me. I throw myself into the kiss, meeting each pull, each bite with one of my own. Wolf kisses like it’s a fight, a battle for dominion and an opportunity to dominate. I don’t let him lead or dictate how the kiss will progress. When he captures my bottom lip between his teeth, I lick out my tongue, hooking his top lip until I’m able to draw him into my mouth.
Food forgotten, long minutes pass as I vent out all of my frustration in this kiss. Throwing my arms around Wolf’s neck, I hug him closer, pulling him down further until his body is pressed against mine, pushing me back into the seat.
Wolf’s hands drift from my face, removing both of my jackets, and traveling until one wraps around my back and the other grips my thigh, guiding it until it’s wrapped against his waist. Breaking the kiss, Wolf’s mouth travels from the outer corner of my lips down to the pulse at my throat, sucking the skin into his mouth.
“Wolf,” I pant. “The bruises just faded from my neck.” It took five days, ice, and a soft bristle brush to work the marks out of my skin.
“Good, then you need more.” I gasp as his mouth attacks my skin, drinking at my pulse like a vampire hungry for his next meal. His teeth bite my flesh, lapping at the sting before repeating the process over and over again, making my head spin by the pain, the pleasure, and the wetness pooling between my thighs.
“Oh my God,” I moan, raising my hands to press him more firmly into my neck. I may have complained about the marks he’s leaving on my skin, like a tattoo of ownership, but I can’t deny that they feel good as he gives them.
He breaks from my neck, breathing heavily as he stares down at me. “I’m not your God. I’m your Wolf, and I’m going to fucking swallow you whole.” Without warning, he reaches for both thighs and lifts, plastering me to the front of his body as he weaves out of the kitchen and through his house.
“Wolf!” I yelp. “I can walk. You don’t need to carry me everywhere.”
My words must piss him off because a grunt is the only reply I receive until my back is pressed against a hard wall, and his mouth attacks me, drawing my lower lip inside and biting down hard until he soothes the pain with gentle suction. I fall into the kiss, not gracefully like the kiss from minutes ago, but in surrender. My proverbial white flag waves, and I follow his mouth as he licks into me, opening as wide as I can to have him infiltrate every part of me.
We start to move again, our mouths still connected. The hands on my thighs travel, one moving to the curve of my ass and the other to my neck, angling my head so that he can dive deeper. The hand at my bottom shifts and grabs one cheek in a rough squeeze before releasing. His fingers coast lower, grazing the inside swell of my cheek before resting them just next to my pussy. Even through layers of clothes, I can feel the heat and pressure from his fingers, a promise of what’s to come.
I try to shift, to gain friction and relief against his hold, but he squeezes tighter, preventing any movement.
“I keep telling you to stop squirming, princess.”
“I need more, Wolf.” My voice sounds whiny, needy, almost annoying.
Wolf’s answering chuckle and lack of action are frustrating, so I try to grind on him again, gaining a little bit of movement before he stops my progress.
“You’ll get more when I say you can, Serena. Stop rushing me.” He walks us through a doorway and touches a switch, bathing us in artificial light. Taking in his space, I’m not surprised to see how tidy everything is, based on the rest of the house and his shop. A large black bed rests in the center of the room, made with a black comforter and matching pillows. The walls are also black, with the wall directly behind his bed done in textured paneling to give the image of one large headboard. The rest of his walls are filled with various tattoo-style art, similar to that in his shop. Black and gray, color, surrealism, neo-traditional, new school, and American traditional drawings are displayed thoughtfully, like a high-end gallery in New York.
The artwork is almost enough for me to forget that I have Wolf’s hand on my clothed pussy and his other on my neck. Almost, but not quite.
Looking away from the artwork, I take in the television mounted on the wall and the black media console below. He has two nightstands, a tall dresser, and not much else in the space. The only offensive item to his perfectly put-together room is a framed print of bright flowers leaning against the wall. The orange, purple, yellow, and green art pops against the white matte and black frame.
I never thought that the color black could be warm and inviting, simultaneously comforting and sensual, but he’s somehow achieved it.
“Your art is amazing,” I comment, still staring at the floral print. “What kind of flowers are those?”
Wolf’s gaze travels from the drawing to my face, and I can feel his intensity, even from the corner of my eye. Shifting my gaze, I raise a brow. “What?”
He stares at me for a beat before asking, “Do you like it?”
Nodding, I tell him the truth, “I love it.”
“Good, it’s yours.”
Rearing, my brows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean it’s mine? You want me to take it?”
A smirk breaks out on his face, making it both kissable and punchable. “No, you’re not taking that. It’s your tattoo.”
“What?” I screech, turning my head back to the print. “That’s my tattoo?”
“That’s what I said.”
Casting a glare from the corner of my eye, I mentally flip him off. “Put me down. I want to see it.” He complies, placing me gently on my feet. He doesn’t step back, doesn’t give me any additional space, so I skirt around him and bend over in front of the frame, taking in the precise lines and artistry. “Wolf, it’s stunning. When did you do this?”
“I started the draft when I mapped your back and butterfly dick placement last weekend. It took a few tries to get it right and to make sure that the original work would be covered. I may still have to alter a few of the flower placements, but that’s what the template looks like.”
“I—” I break off, shaking my head in amazement. “Wolf, it’s more than anything I could have imagined. What types of flowers are those?”
“Strelitzias, or bird of paradise.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Wolf’s hands tucked into his pockets like he’s proud of his work but trying to maintain a shred of humility.
“What happened to Sloan’s piece?”
“She wanted to do hot air balloons.” His face twists, a disgusted sneer morphing his features.
“Oh.” I tilt my head, considering hot air balloons on my back for the rest of my life. While I don’t hate the idea, I also don’t feel connected to it. “What do they symbolize?”
Wolf looks to the ceiling like he’s reading a script on the black paint. “Hope, love, adventure.”
“And Strelitzias?”
He looks back down, meeting my eyes. “Freedom.”
“Oh.” My throat works, swallowing down the emotion attempting to choke me. “I think I like that better.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You wanted butterflies for the same reason. I’ll try to incorporate a few freehanded ones, but I wanted your tattoo to have the same meaning as what you originally intended. I wasn’t going to let Sloane put a romantic balloon on your back when you wanted something to symbolize breaking free.” He shakes his head, raising his arms to cross his chest. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Th-thank you.” I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I wipe my face, praying that Wolf doesn’t notice I’m crying again. “That was considerate.”
He shrugs again, not voicing a response.
“What about the rest of this art?” I wave my hands, gesturing to the walls.
“Some are pieces I’ve done; others are commissions from my artists or ones from other shops whose work I admire.” I nod, taking a closer look at each of the prints on display.
Turning back to the rendering of my tattoo, I smile. “They’re all beautiful, but I like this one best.”
“Me too.” His voice comes from behind, closer than it was a minute ago, and I stand, straightening to my full height. Not a second passes before his front is pressed against my back, and his arms are around my waist, adhering to my body. Keeping one hand wrapped around my abdomen, the other dances up, over the valley between my breasts, over the ridges of my collar bone, and to the peak of my jaw. Applying gentle pressure, Wolf turns my head and tilts it toward his lowering face.
I close my eyes, anticipating another kiss, but it never comes. Snapping them open, I see Wolf’s mouth inches from mine, like he’s giving me the air I need to breathe. “What—”
“I’m going to fuck you now, princess. And I’m not going to be gentle this time.”
My eyebrows lift to my hairline, and I sputter a laugh. “You were gentle last time?”
“As gentle as I could be.”
With my head at this angle, I’m able to see everything that transpires within his eyes: desire, skepticism, need, and I’m sure his emotions are mirrored in my own. Erasing the distance between us, I ease up on my toes and press my mouth to his, initiating a soft kiss. Easing his lips open, I lick into his mouth and let my tongue dance lazily with his. He seems inclined to let me lead and set the pace because he doesn’t fight for control or turn our kiss into a battle.
Pulling back, I tip my head up and smirk. “What was that about gentle?”
An eyebrow quirk is the only warning I receive before Wolf scoops me into his arms, bridal style, and strides to the bed, throwing me toward the center. Wolf grabs the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one fluid motion.
In clothes, Wolf’s body is impressive; the way his form fills out jeans is nearly sinful, and his shoulders stretch out a shirt indecently. But shirtless? His body is a master class in art and kinesiology, a reflection of the perfect human form if scars and body modifications were normative. I stare at him wordlessly as he strips off his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely bare. His cock is hard, so red, that it looks like it physically hurts to remain untouched. As though he’s reading my mind, he grips the base of his cock, squeezing before jerking his hand up and down, spreading the precum over himself.
Shaking myself out of my trance, I move my hands to the hem of my shirt and start to raise it over my ribs.
“Stop.” I halt my progress at his voice, leaving the shirt bunched at my waist. “Get on your hands and knees and come to the edge of the bed.”
“Are you planning on ordering me around all night?” I ask.
“Yes. Now get on your hands and knees, princess. Don’t make me ask a third time.”
“What’ll happen if you do?”
“Something you probably won’t like,” he supplies, quickening his speed as he continues to stroke himself.
“I’m tempted to find out,” I tease but rise on my knees before dropping to my hands and crawling over to the edge of the bed. Though I’m listening to Wolf’s commands and following instructions, I’m doing it because it’s what I want to do. I know that whatever Wolf is about to do to me will cause me optimal pleasure, and I’m determined to be selfish for once in my life.
Thoughts of my family, the failed dating experience, and every previous sexual encounter that didn’t include Wolf fade away until I’m left fully clothed, on my hands and knees, waiting to service the man I never thought I’d have.