Chapter 12 - Dane
She tasted like tea and autumn and strawberries, and from the first touch of their lips, Dane knew he was converted.
He had never known heaven like it.
All the tension in her body, that relentless, unending need of hers to remain rigid and composed, melted away under his touch.
She arched up into him, her hands clinging to his shoulders, her chest crushed against his.
He growled low at the neediness in her small whimper as he nipped at her bottom lip, demanding entry.
Without waiting for permission, he grasped that stupid cardigan she always wore, tearing it from her body with feral urgency.
She gasped, but then her little fingers were undoing the buttons of his shirt with clumsy, unpracticed motions.
The innocence of it coiled low in Dane’s belly, and he knew that he needed her.
Needed her now.
He’d been denying it for too long. Pretending that his eyes didn’t track her every movement as she floated through his apartment with his son in her arms. Pretending that he wasn’t undone by every whiff of her expensive perfume.
Pretending that he didn’t go half-mad with desire whenever she creased her adorable little brow at something stupid he’d said.
And he said a lot of stupid things.
Mostly to get a rise out of her. It was so easy, riling her up. It had slowly become his favorite hobby. But now, with fingernails digging into his skin and unleashed fervor, he knew she was claiming her retaliation.
And he was only too happy to oblige.
They were a tangle of teeth and hands and movement as they fumbled into Dane’s bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, knocking over several items as they went.
Dane was pretty sure he accidentally sent his dresser crashing to the floor as he braced against it, needing to leverage to strip Lola of her remaining clothes, but he didn’t care.
He couldn’t focus on anything other than her.
She was beautiful. Fuck, she was beautiful.
He wasn’t one for poetry, or sappy metaphors about goddesses or angels or beauty in general. He was happy to leave that shit to Felix and Nicolas. But even he knew that the woman in front of him was something special.
She was all softness, all rounded curves and smooth flesh.
Nothing like him, all hard lines and roughness.
Her breasts and hips swelled out, her pale stomach was gently soft, her long legs delicate and dainty.
Her riot of dark curls tumbled over her shoulders, a shock of rich color, enhanced by the swollen red of her lips.
Someone like her…someone so refined and elegant and pure…
It wasn’t for him to sully her.
He was all brute, hardly any brains. He knew that, and it had never bothered him before. He was straightforward, as subtle as a fist, loud and boisterous and big. He half feared he would break her in half just by touching her.
She needed someone more like her. Someone who could match her wit and challenge her mind. Someone whose hands didn’t look so rough and violent against her skin.
And yet, she was here. Kissing him. Pulling his clothes off with the same aggression he had shown.
Her warm brown eyes were clear of their normal hesitation, fear.
It was like she had unleashed herself. Beneath the polished exterior, her spotless skin, her doe-like limbs, he was able to glimpse the wolf.
So he decided to stop worrying about breaking her and accept the gift that was being given.
After all, he was a simple man. Put a beautiful woman in his arms, one who seemed maddeningly able to drive him wild with her every word, and remove her clothes…
He was only a man.
Without stopping to break their kiss, he picked her up in one smooth motion, her legs wrapping tight around her hips and her arms winding around his neck, fingers curling in his hair. Her nipples, hard and pointed, ground against his chest, and he groaned into her mouth.
Her responding whimper had him harder than he thought possible.
She seemed so small in his arms. She was not a short woman, nor was she all slender athletic lines like some of the females in the pack, and yet she barely weighed a thing. Dane thought he could die a happy man with her naked and panting in his arms.
He dropped one hand to her rear, his palm large enough to span her entire ass, his fingers curving around the irresistible swell of her hip. He wanted to bite her there, mark her as his, leave his imprint on her perfect flesh.
He pressed her into him, her core hot and slick against the lower muscles of his torso, and she groaned and bucked into him with reckless want.
So this was what happened when she finally turned that brain of hers off. Finally let herself just be in her body as opposed to worrying so much about what the world thought of her.
Fuck the world. She was perfect. And he was going to show her exactly how perfect she was.
Without opening his eyes to look where he was going, he stumbled forward towards the bed, his shins colliding with the wood. Reaching out blindly, he dropped them both down to the mattress, never once relenting his assault on her lips.
She had opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to battle hers, hot and heavy and dominating. She was putting up a good fight, thought, fingernails scraping against his back, legs tight around his middle.
She knew what she wanted. And he was only too happy to give it to her.
But still, he paused, pulling back. She wasn’t just some cheap lay, some one-night stand he could use to vent out any frustration or pent-up energy. She was the woman looking after his son. Looking after his home. Cooking for him and making sure he ate and listening to him and caring.
He owed her the same.
“Is this okay?” he asked, pulling back, their chests heaving and breath mingling, “Are you okay?”
She blinked at him, her beautiful, deep brown eyes wide with shock and something close to…adoration?
“Yes,” she said, tightening her legs around him for emphasis, “yes, it’s fine, I mean…it’s been a while, so…”
“I’ll be gentle,” he growled, leaning down to kiss her again, “tell me if it hurts.”
She practically groaned at that, her legs falling open, her hips bucking upwards in search of friction. He snarled, reaching down between their bodies, finding her wet and waiting. Her scent enveloped him as he bit into the soft skin of her neck, vanilla and honey and home.
Slowly, gently, he pushed two fingers into her, relishing the way her body stretched around him.
God, she was tight. So tight. He was going to go crazy at this rate.
She whimpered and writhed beneath him as he pumped his fingers into her, curling them upwards against that small spot deep inside her that he knew would drive her closer to the edge.
Her eyes widened and she gasped, her head falling backwards, her spine arching up. He took the opportunity to capture one of her perfect, dusky nipples between his lips, tugging with just enough pressure to complement the pleasure he was giving her.
“Dane,” she begged, muscles trembling, “oh, God, Dane, please!”
With a savage grin, he withdrew his fingers, trailing them around her core, moving upwards to the engorged bud at the apex of her thighs.
As he made contact with her clit she moaned, breathy and light, her perfect red lips forming a small ‘oh’ as he rubbed her needy flesh.
He was getting pretty needy himself, his manhood hot and heavy against her thigh.
But it was a point of pride, of masculine ego perhaps, that he wanted to make her finish before he chased his own pleasure.
There had been plenty of women in his past whom he wouldn’t have bothered trying to impress.
Sure, he could tell by scent alone that they all enjoyed themselves, but he was honest enough to admit that he was mostly preoccupied with finding his own release.
But Lola. Lola was different.
Something in him wanted to wait. To savor the moment. To drive her over the edge and see her fall apart under his ministrations, secure in the knowledge that he was the one to give her pleasure.
And indeed, his wolf roared with triumph at the little sounds spilling for her lips, the desperate way her hands trembled as they tangled in his hair, the small crease between her brow that for once had nothing to do with him teasing her.
Unable to resist, he scraped his teeth down the pale column of her neck, tasting the sweet-salt sweat as she writhed, increasing his pace against her.
As he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of her breast, sucking it with enough force to bruise, she shattered beneath him. His name was on her lips as she came, her muscles shaking, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
Within him, his wolf roared in ecstasy. He had done that. He had made her lose control.
“That’s it, love,” he growled, “that’s my good girl. Easy now.”
Despite his words, he didn’t relent his assault on her clit, collecting some of her wetness to spread over her and continue working her body, slick and musky and delicious. He wanted to taste her. To feel her fall apart on his tongue.
But he needed her. Violently, primally, desperately.
He made do by sucking her orgasm off his fingers, relishing the tangy explosion of her essence, but enjoying even more the heat in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks as she watched him.
She was boneless, limp beneath him, thighs still trembling but open and warm and inviting. Her breasts rose and fell, and she panted, her eyes wild in anticipation.
Without warning, he pushed into her, growling as her warmth enveloped him, her muscles gripping him tight.
“That’s it,” he hissed, “look at you, taking me so well.”
She whimpered, gripping his shoulders, her nails leaving little red half-moon crescents in his skin. His wolf roared in delight. He wanted her to mark him. To claim him. To take what she wanted from his body and leave a trail of their joint pleasure.
“Dane,” she begged, a bead of sweat rolling from her neck down her chest, “Dane, you’re so…so…”
“Does it hurt?” he said, pausing halfway to let her adjust, unable to keep the grin from his face.
“No,” she said, “no, no, no, it feels amazing, it feels…feels so good! Don’t stop, don’t stop!”
His little academic. He couldn’t think of a time when she’d been rendered incapable of words with more than one syllable. And somehow, that was more satisfying than the blatant pleasure twisting across her expression as he pushed further inside her.
“Oh…oh God,” she groaned, shifting her hips, clamping down on him as he pushed a final inch into her pliant body.
“You feel so fucking good,” he snarled, fists twisting in the sheets as her muscles gripped him, barely holding himself back from ploughing into her like a man possessed.
“Don’t stop,” she said again, bucking against him, “please, please, Dane!”
He didn’t have to be asked twice.
Bracing against the mattress, he rocked into her, finding his rhythm as he read the wild lines of her body. Her mouth was open, her eyes rolled back, her head thrashing this way and that as he pistoned into her at a punishing pace.
It was the most incredible, beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He never wanted it to end. Never wanted to stop. Wanted to keep her like this, moaning and panting underneath him, for the rest of his damn life. Safe, warm, protected, pleasured.
He growled and doubled his efforts, dropping his nose to the skin of her neck, scenting her and searing the sweet perfume into his brain forever. Her whimpers were getting louder, her body taking him so well, like she was made for it. Made for him.
But that wasn’t quite right. It was the other way around.
He was made for her.
He’d denied himself too long. Resisted her for too long. Now that he had her, he never wanted to let her go.
She wailed as another orgasm hit her, practically convulsing beneath him, his name like a prayer on her lips.
He followed shortly after, slamming into her with a roar, blinding pleasure overtaking him as he pulsed inside her perfect body.
They lay there together, panting in the afterglow, and Dane knew he was well and truly lost.