Chapter 16
Julia
“Open up for me, Julia.”
The spoon touches my lower lip and I part my mouth, eyes locked on his.
The ice cream is rich, creamy, and so cold it makes my teeth ache for a second before it melts into pure sweetness on my tongue.
I murmur my approval, and Ian’s golden-brown eyes, warm and wild, crinkle at the corners.
His wolfish muzzle opens in a smile, his pleasure at my embarrassing little sounds a warm pulse in the air between us.
“Good?” he rumbles. He’s standing right between my legs, so the low vibration travels straight to my core.
I can only nod, swallowing the sweet chill. “So good.”
His cabin is just like him, warm and welcoming. Despite the fact that I’m in the middle of nowhere with a wulver I just met less than two weeks ago, I feel safe. It even smells safe in here, a mix of cedar and vanilla and Ian’s masculine spice that lowers my blood pressure.
He dangles a cherry in front of me, bouncing it against my lips until I snap at it, capturing it between my teeth. He gives a satisfied grunt that sends a pulse of desire to my pussy.
I’m glad I drove out here tonight. It was impulsive, but I think the extra day of anticipation would have turned me into an anxious mess. I might have backed out if I thought about it too much, and being here, being with him here, feels right.
I worried it might feel wrong, even with Richard’s harsh reminder that he doesn’t care and doesn’t want to know. I thought it might feel twisted and wrong to be with Ian, even for practical purposes. But now that I’m here, I’m relieved that it doesn’t.
We can be friends and have fun while we do this. At some point, I’m going to slide off this kitchen counter and he’s going to slide his cock into me, but it doesn’t have to be that deep. We’re just going to make a baby.
The thought is a live wire in my stomach as Ian feeds me more of the ice cream sundae, occasionally stealing my breath when I can feel his denim-clad erection press up against the damp barrier of my panties.
After a few more bites, he sets the ice cream bowl on the rough-hewn kitchen counter beside me. His hands, so human, come up to frame my face.
He brings his lips close to mine and pauses, just millimeters between us. My blood heats up at his nearness. When I try to close the distance, the same hands cradling my jaw hold me back.
“Ask me to kiss you first, Julia,” he murmurs, thumb stroking down my cheek. “I said I wouldn’t do it again unless you asked, so say the words, pretty girl.”
“Please, would you?” It comes out strangled and breathless, but that’s all it takes for him to dip his head down for a cool, vanilla-flavored kiss.
It’s still not like a human kiss, far from it, but I enjoy it just as much.
His muzzle is firm, his breath hot. His fur is soft against my cheeks.
The kiss starts tender, a gentle exploration, but it builds quickly until both of us are making urgent, needy sounds.
My fingers sink into the thick fur at his neck as I hold onto him desperately.
It feels like I’m losing myself in it, in my hunger for him. I hadn’t even known I was starving.
“I’ve waited my whole life to taste you,” he murmurs against my lips, his thumbs stroking my jawline.
“I want you,” I gasp without thinking, my thoughts about a practical, friendly insemination muddled by his touch and his body heat. I squirm on the counter, wishing for more friction.
“You’ve got me.” He pulls back, his gaze intense. “You’re so beautiful, Julia. Can I see more of you?”
I hesitate. I have children who are now adults, and my body shows it.
I am soft where I used to be toned. My skin is marked by time and motherhood.
I have no idea how he’ll react to seeing all that evidence of our incompatibility, but he asked for it, so I shrug my cardigan off my shoulders, letting it fall to the counter, exposing the unseasonable little sundress I wore underneath.
I pull down the straps one at a time, letting the top of the dress pool around my stomach.
My breath hitches when I see the eager, rapid swish of his reddish-brown tail as he takes in my pale-pink bra, a gesture so candidly happy it eases my self-doubt.
His eyes darken as they roam over my breasts, which look a little better than usual because I wore my good lingerie for once.
It’s a set I bought for my anniversary last year in the hopes of maybe adding a little spark back to my marriage, but I never wore because I was worried what Richard would say when he saw my body in it.
“Gods, Julia,” Ian breathes, his voice thick. He cups his hands over my breasts, squeezing gently, before pulling down the cups of my bra. The exposure pebbles my nipples, and I instinctively cross my arms over them, heat rising up my neck.
“Um. They look better in the bra,” I mumble, tucking them back in. “They’re a little saggy from breastfeeding. And they have stretchmarks.”
He cajoles my arms down, holding my wrists gently. “You don’t have to hide from me. You are a vision. These curves”—he leans down, his warm tongue laving over the swell of one breast, just dipping beneath the lace—”are for my eyes. For my mouth and hands. For my pups.”
Even though we’ve agreed that I won’t nurse them, the word pups sends a shockwave of pure, animal heat through me. It’s a reminder of where this is going. He’s going to come inside me in the next hour, give or take.
I don’t know why I thought I might not be able to conceive at my age.
My fertility isn’t an abstract concept anymore.
It’s a throbbing, present ache when Ian is near me.
Slickness gathers between my legs as he lavishes my breasts with attention, leaving my bra in place as I asked, even though he clearly wants more.
“You can look at them,” I mumble, feeling my face burn. “If you want to.”
His chest rumbles with pleasure as he frees them again. He reaches for the now-softened ice cream, dipping two fingers into it. He holds eye contact with me as he slowly, deliberately, paints my breast with it.
I gasp. The cold is a shocking contrast to the heat of my skin.
He lowers his head, his hot tongue following the trail he’d made, lapping up the mess with long, slow strokes.
The warring sensations are exquisite: the chill, the heat, the texture of his tongue, the softness of his fur brushing my sensitive flesh.
I can’t help it…I moan, my head tipping back.
“So sweet,” he growls, his mouth closing around my nipple.
He sucks gently, washing away the last of the ice cream with devastating warmth that goes straight to my clit.
I cry out, my fingers tangling in his fur, holding him to me.
He treats my other breast to the same torturous, wonderful attention, and by the time he’s done, I’m quivering and panting and have abandoned any shred of self-consciousness I’d been feeling.
He straightens up, his eyes glinting. “Tell me to slow down if you need it. Otherwise, I can’t wait another second to have you, pretty girl.”
In one swift motion, he hooks his arms under my knees and back, lifting me easily against his chest. He carries me through the cabin to his bedroom, laying me down on a huge, four-poster bed covered in a quilt.
He strips my dress away, leaving me in my longline bra, panties, and stockings.
I’m still pretty covered up, but I feel completely bare to his gaze.
He kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed, his hands spreading my thighs.
“Look at you,” he breathes as he traces the lacy tops of my stockings and then the spreading damp spot on the crotch of my panties.
Even this light touch makes me twitch and whimper.
“So perfect. So ready for me. I can smell your desire, Julia. It’s the most intoxicating scent in the world to me. ”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He just pulls my panties to the side and buries his face between my legs.
No one has ever licked me like this before. Broad and relentless, his tongue invades my core, tasting me with a series of deep, searching strokes. He growls, the vibration thrumming through my most sensitive flesh, and my back arches off the bed. “Ian! Oh my god. What are you doing to me?”
“Good girl. Let me hear how much you like it.”
“I love it. Oh god. Please,” I beg as he dives back in, although I’m not sure what I’m praying for. A parallel universe where I get to have this every night, maybe? I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without it. He deserves to know what he’s doing to me. “I didn’t know it could feel so good.”
He grunts in response, the sound raw and filthy. “Tell me how ready you are for my seed.”
The need to have him inside me hits me like a truck. It’s the only thing that can quench the fire inside me and turn me back into a person I recognize.
“I need it,” I sigh, clutching at his ears to draw him up to me. “Please, don’t make me wait anymore.”
He gives a pleased chuckle and focuses on my clit, sucking the sensitive nub into the heat of his mouth.
His tongue flicks over it with devastating precision, while his palm slides up my thigh until his thumb can circle my entrance, testing the slickness that’s now dripping from me.
He pushes a thick finger inside me, and I clench around him, my body starving for fullness.
“So wet,” he groans against me. “So deep and wet for me. Your body knows what it needs. It’s begging to be filled, to be bred by your mate.”
The combination of his words and fingers and tongue tighten the coil of pleasure inside me until it’s unbearable.
I babble, pleading to come, my hands fisting in his fur until my orgasm crashes over me, a brutal, stunning burst that has me calling his name, my body convulsing around his thrusting finger.