Chapter 10 Karina #2
He moves closer, prowling toward me with predatory grace that makes my heart hammer against my ribs. “I'm sure of what I smell. What I feel.” His gaze drops to where my nipples have hardened beneath my thin sleep shirt. “What I see right in front of me.”
I back up until I hit the window, the cool glass a stark contrast to my overheated skin. “This is…it doesn't mean anything.”
“Keep telling yourself that, kitten.” His hand rises, hovering near my face without touching. Even that almost-contact sends electricity skittering across my skin. “Your wolf knows better.”
She does. She's practically clawing at my insides, desperate for his touch, the completion of what we started. The rational part of me—the human who values independence and choice—is rapidly losing ground to the creature inside of me.
“I need to shower and get ready to meet the alpha,” I answer, grasping for any excuse I can.
“I don't fucking care.”
He pounces before I can react, his body caging me against the window as his mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is nothing like I expected—not gentle, not tentative, but consuming. Devouring. His tongue sweeps past my lips, seizing me with a ferocity that makes my knees buckle.
My wolf howls with triumph as I melt against him, my body betraying me completely. His hands find my waist, fingers digging into my hips with bruising force as he lifts me effortlessly. My legs wrap around him of their own accord, my core pressing against the hard ridge beneath his towel.
“Damien,” I gasp when he finally breaks the kiss, his mouth trailing fire down my neck toward the scar he left. “We shouldn't—”
“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my skin, teeth grazing the tender flesh where his bite still throbs. “Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away.”
I can't. The words stick in my throat as his hand slides beneath my sleep shirt, calloused fingers skimming across my ribs. Every touch sends lightning through my veins, the connection between us amplifying every sensation until I'm drowning in need.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, satisfaction rumbling through his chest as he carries me across the room.
My back hits the mattress with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs.
He looms over me like a predator laying claim to prey.
The towel slips in our struggle, revealing hard muscle and dark tattoos.
“I want your fucking eyes on me, kitten,” he orders, one hand cupping my face to hold my gaze.
I should protest. Should push him away and remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea. But my body is no longer my own—it belongs to the fire he's ignited, to the wolf prowling beneath my skin, to the imprint throbbing at my neck.
His mouth takes mine again, swallowing my gasp as his hand slides between my thighs. Even through the thin fabric of my sleep shorts, his touch sends electricity racing through my veins. My hips buck against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of everything he's offering.
“So responsive,” he growls against my lips, his fingers finding the waistband of my shorts. “Already soaked for me, aren't you, kitten?”
I can't answer. Can't form words when his hand slips beneath the fabric, fingers parting my folds with devastating precision. The first touch against my center pulls a strangled cry from my throat, my back arching off the mattress.
“That's it,” he encourages. “Purr for me.”
I shatter.
The word he uses—that soft command—breaks something inside me.
My wolf surges forward with a keening sound that's half-human, half-animal, and I realize I am purring.
Actually purring like the kitten he keeps calling me, the vibration rumbling through my chest as his fingers work magic between my thighs.
His thumb finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I cry out, my hips bucking against his hand.
“Please,” I gasp, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for. More? Less? For him to stop before I lose myself completely?
“Please, what?” His fingers slow their torturous rhythm, and I whimper at the loss. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want...” I swallow hard, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I want you to make it stop. The ache. The need.”
“This ache?” His fingers press deeper, finding that spot inside me.
“Yes,” I moan, shame and need battling inside me as his fingers curl in just the right way. “That one.”
He leans down, his mouth hovering inches from mine. “There's only one way to truly make it stop.”
I know what he means. Completion. Our union under the full moon. My wolf howls in agreement, but the human part of me still clings to the shreds of my independence.
“You promised me three days,” I remind him, my voice breaking as his thumb circles my clit with devastating precision.
“And you'll have them, but that doesn't mean I can't give you this.”
Before I can respond, he slides down my body, his shoulders pushing my thighs wider as he settles between them. The sight of him there—this powerful predator positioning himself at my most vulnerable point—should terrify me. Instead, my wolf purrs more, arching toward him with shameless need.
“What are you—” My question dissolves into a strangled cry as his mouth replaces his fingers, hot and demanding against my core. My hands fly to his hair, not sure if I'm trying to push him away or pull him closer.
The first stroke of his tongue nearly undoes me.
“Damien,” I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair as another wave of pleasure crashes over me. “I can't—it's too much—”
He growls against my flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for his assault as his tongue works mercilessly against my center.
The pleasure builds too quickly, a tidal wave I can't stop. My wolf is at the surface now. The purring intensifies, a primal sound I've never made before rumbling from my chest as Damien's mouth devours me.
When the orgasm hits, it's unlike anything I've ever experienced. Colors explode behind my eyelids, my back arching off the mattress as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. I cry out his name, my voice breaking on the syllables as my body convulses under his relentless attention.
He doesn't stop. Even as I tremble with aftershocks, his tongue continues its torturous rhythm, pushing me toward a second peak I didn't know was possible. My nails rake across his scalp as another wave builds impossibly fast, my hips bucking against his mouth.
“I can't—not again—” But even as I protest, my body betrays me, arching into his touch as the second orgasm crashes over me with brutal intensity.
He finally releases me, crawling up my body with predatory grace. His face is slick with evidence of what he's done to me. The towel is long gone, and I catch a glimpse of his arousal—thick and intimidating—before he captures my mouth in a kiss that tastes of me.
“That's just the beginning, kitten,” he growls against my lips. “Just a taste of what I can give you.”
I should feel embarrassed. Ashamed of how quickly I surrendered, how completely I lost control. But all I feel is a languid satisfaction mingled with a deeper hunger that hasn't been fully sated.
“Damien...” I reach for him, needing to touch him, to return some measure of what he's given me, but he catches my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand.
“No. Not today.” His body trembles with the effort, muscles coiled tight as he fights his own instincts.
“But you need—” I can see his arousal, feel his desire burning through our connection like molten metal.
“What I need is to get you ready for that meeting.” He releases my wrists, rolling away from me with obvious reluctance. “And what I need is to not completely lose my fucking mind before then.”
The loss of his warmth leaves me cold despite the fire still coursing through my veins.
I watch him stalk toward his dresser, his movements sharp with barely contained energy.
The muscles in his back flex as he yanks open drawers, and I can't help but admire the Norse tattoos that cover his shoulders and spine.
“That was...” I struggle to find words for what just happened between us. “I've never felt anything like that.”
“Neither have I.”
More intense is an understatement. I can still feel echoes of his pleasure mixing with mine, a phantom sensation that makes my skin tingle.
The reality of what just happened settles over me as I watch him turn away.
My body still hums with aftershocks. What terrifies me most isn't what he did, it's how desperately I wanted it.
How completely I surrendered to a man I barely know.
Damien pauses at the bathroom door, his broad shoulders tense. Without turning around, he says, “You should get dressed. We need to leave in an hour.”
Then he's gone, the bathroom door closing behind him with a soft click. The shower turns on again seconds later.
I lie there, limbs heavy with satisfaction yet somehow still aching for more. My wolf whines, unhappy with his departure, with the unfinished nature of what just happened between us.
Then I feel it—his pleasure surging through our connection. The sensation is so unexpected, so intimate that I sit up, pressing my hand against the mark as if that could somehow block the transmission. But there's no stopping it. I can feel him touching himself. In the shower. Because of me.
My cheeks burn as I realize what's happening. Every sensation, his need, his pleasure, the roughness of his hand. I'm no longer just in my body; I'm in his too, feeling the hot water cascading down his skin, the coil of tension building in his core, the desperation driving his movements.
My wolf stretches beneath my skin, purring with satisfaction at this unexpected intimacy.
I should give him privacy, but I can't tear myself from the connection.
Each stroke, each tightening of his grip sends echoes of pleasure ricocheting through me until I'm pressing my thighs together again, my own need rebuilding despite his earlier attentions.
I can feel his frustration, his desperate attempt to release the pressure without binding us together. Images flash through my mind. His hand wrapped around his length, head thrown back as water sluices down his powerful body.
When his release finally comes, it crashes through me like a tidal wave.
I gasp, my back arching as phantom pleasure courses through me.
For a moment, I'm both in my body and his, experiencing his release as if it were my own.
The intensity leaves me breathless, trembling on the bed as the feeling slowly dims to a more manageable hum.
The shower cuts off, and I scramble to get dressed, trying to block out what I just felt, and praying to the gods that I can make it through meeting his Alpha without thinking about it.