Chapter 44 #2
“Holy shit.” I clench my teeth as my breath rushes from my lungs, trying to steady the roll of euphoria washing over me. My stomach clamps, my legs tense as I ride through my orgasm. “Holy fucking shit,” I say as the last tremors pulse through me.
Fenrir inches back, sitting up on his heels as he regards me. I thought he’d look smug and pleased with himself, but no. He looks focused, like the job isn’t done yet.
Reaching for his belt, he asks, “Are you on birth control?”
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I answer, “Yes.” His eyes narrow, so I explain.
“My mum took me to the doctor not long after I started my periods because they were really painful. The doctor put me on birth control to help with the pain. Nothing to do with my sex life, as I was fourteen at the time. I’ve been on it ever since, and I obviously don’t have any diseases. ”
“Me neither,” Fenrir says and continues to unfasten his belt.
I sit up and push his hands away to try and take over, but he stops me.
“Not this time,” he says, and must see my confusion. “Your first time should be about you and only you. I can wait.”
Looking up at him, I frown. “But I want to.”
He sighs, shakes his head slightly, then moves his hands away. I remove his belt and pull his zip down.
His black boxers are tight and do nothing to hide the bulge. He closes his eyes momentarily as if steeling himself before I hook my fingers over his waistband and pull them down.
Holy shit. He isn’t going to fit in my mouth, but I will certainly try.
Wetting my lips, I slowly take the tip of him into my mouth and flick my tongue over his head whilst gripping the base. He lets out a low growl, which spurs me on. I’m already wet, but with each lick, each little suck of him, heat pools between my legs and only makes me want him more.
His breathing gets faster as I get a little braver, taking more of him into my mouth, his head hitting the back of my throat. I speed up, my hand and jaw working in tandem until he grips my hair and pulls my head back.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth.” He pushes me back onto the bed and climbs on top of me. His eyes are intense, fuelled with desire. There’s a second when I feel I should be afraid.
“I’m ready,” I say, gripping the sheets, as if having something to hold on to will help brace me.
“I’ll take it slow because it will hurt, but only for a second. If you want me to stop, you need to tell me, and I’ll stop.”
I nod to show him I’m paying attention when all I’m really thinking about is how badly I want this.
I’ve never felt like this before. All the times I’ve tried to get laid, it’s always been about getting the job done, ticking the box.
But this is different. I want this. I want him.
If I don’t get him, I’ll fucking scream.
He positions himself as he takes hold of both my ankles in one hand, then rubs his cock up my centre.
My eyes flutter closed, but I don’t want to miss anything. He continues to rub his cock over me, coating it in my pleasure before he gently places the tip at my entrance.
“Look at me, Hayami,” he says. I meet his gaze. “It’s going to sting, but I’ll help.” He drops my ankles, my legs flopping onto his shoulders as he pushes deeper inside me. And there it is, the fucking sting, but as the pain builds, he places his thumb on my clit, and I moan.
“Oh my God.”
He pushes on, slowly dipping all of him inside me until I feel his thighs against the back of my legs. Then he pulls back, continuing to massage my clit, and I think I’m dying, think I’m in heaven and he’s a fucking angel.
None of the books I’ve read have prepared me for this. None of them.
“Hayami,” he snaps.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Fuck no. You dare stop and I’ll scratch your fucking eyes out.” I grip his legs, pulling him into me.
He smiles, and I swear to God, I’ve definitely died.
And now he fucks me, slow to start, then faster, deeper, pushing into me and then pulling out, toying with me, playing with me until my body can’t hold back any longer.
As my back arches and my breathing ceases, I feel him swell within me, and that’s enough to tip me over the edge.
My orgasm crashes through me as Fenrir holds himself deep inside me, the feeling of him pulsing only prolonging the ecstasy that rolls through my body.
“Fuck, oh fuck!” I cry as Fenrir exerts one final thrust before dropping beside me, his face in the crook of my neck as he catches his breath.
Seconds pass. I feel weak yet powerful, as if I’ve just discovered a superpower I didn’t know I had. I never thought it would feel like that, never expected it to be so intense, and I now know why he said he wouldn’t be able to stop at only doing it once.
He pushes up on his arms and pulls out, then tells me to wait. He stands. I want to look at him, to marvel at his body, but I’m exhausted and still catching my breath. He must go into the en suite, as when he returns, it’s with tissues, which he uses to clean me up.
I sit up, my legs shaking, my arms like cooked noodles. I feel different. It’s cliché, I know, but I do. I feel like a whole new world has been opened up to me, one I’ve only read about in books, and this man has led me there by the hand. I want to kiss him for it.
But we haven’t kissed. Is that strange? I’m not sure.
It feels wrong not to have kissed him, too clinical, like this was just a transaction between two people.
I want to kiss him. I want to smother him with all of me.
I’m not sure whether the two orgasms have made me feel brave, but I grab his head in my hands and lean in.
He freezes under my touch, my hand covering his scars, and for a fleeting second, I think I’ve done the wrong thing, touched him in a way he isn’t comfortable with, but I’m lost in this heady moment, post-orgasmic pleasure leaving me feeling drunk and slightly giddy.
“Thank you,” I whisper before I place my lips on his and kiss him like I’m starving, like he’s the only food I need.
He tastes of me, but I don’t care. I want this.
I want him. I want him to know how much this means to me.
Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him closer, his clever tongue setting me on edge again.
His mouth moves down my neck, giving me the chance to inhale some much-needed air.
“I want to do it again.” My voice is breathy, my words heavy with desire.
“We will, but you need time to recover,” Fenrir says at last.
“I don’t,” I protest.
“Yes, you do, because I told you before that I was only going to be gentle this one time.” He pulls away, a warning look flashing over his face.
“And then what?” What does he mean? I wasn’t taking it all in before. I was so nervous, so wrapped up in this moment that I’d imagined for so long, that I wasn’t thinking about what he was saying.
“Then, Hayami, I will fuck you how I know you want it.”
“How do I want it?” I’m confused now. What the hell does he mean?
His eyes narrow, and his head dips. “All those times, Hayami, when I’ve had to restrain you, when I’ve held you down and you’ve bitten me, scratched me, fought me as if your life depended on it, tell me it didn’t turn you on.”
I gulp.
Because he’s right. Nothing made me wetter than when I’ve fought with him, when he’s chased me, when I’ve known he’ll catch me, and when he does, I’ll get to feel his hands on me, rough and unyielding.
“How?”
“I could see it in your eyes, felt it in your body. You wanted it that way, and I’ll give you what you want, but it’ll be different. There will be rules.”
“What rules?” Just talking about this is getting me worked up again.
“You need to remember that it’s all part of the game, the things I’ll say to you, things I will make you do. And it might go too far. So, we need a safe word.”
“Can’t I just say stop?” I’m shaking now. Fear, adrenaline, anticipation, all of it one big fucking cocktail.
“‘Stop’ won’t cut it,” Fenrir says. “You’ll be telling me to stop, begging me to stop, when really you don’t want me to stop at all.
That’s all part of the game. We need a word that we both know means that it has to end.
One word. It can’t be mistaken for anything else, a clear word. You need to tell me what that word is.”
Shit. This feels so heavy, yet I’ve never felt desire like it. One word. Think.
And then I have it.
“Kemono.”
“Kemono,” Fenrir repeats. “What does it mean?”
“It’s Japanese for ‘beast.’” He quirks his eyebrow. “That’s what I called you in my head when we first met. I called you the Beast.”
“I should feel hurt.”
“Don’t. It was a compliment. And now I know it’s true. You are a beast. My beast.”