Adriana #7
The heat simmering in her veins had cooled, but she didn’t need it as she dragged his shoulders down, nails digging into his sweatshirt until she was able to reach his mouth.
She was on top of him, in control. It took no maneuvering at all to shift herself until she was straddling his body.
“Thank you for not wearing hard pants. Make this a lot easier.” He was already stiff when she pulled him up over the waistband of his joggers, yanking them down his hips.
“Only psychopaths wear hard pants at home.”
Adriana backed up to the end of the sofa, giving herself room to stroke him.
She remembered what he had done to himself that day on her bed.
Twisting up his shaft, hand over hand, rubbing the flat of her palm over his slit until it was slick.
Easing back his foreskin, she covered his head with her mouth, tightening her lips, twisting until he groaned.
“Wait,” Trapp gritted out. “I want a guarantee you’re not spitting in my mouth again. Maybe we should—”
“If I promise to swallow, will you shut the fuck up?”
The vibration of his laughter buzzed against her lips as she got to work.
She was awkward and had no real relationship experience and probably needed to be on different, stronger anti-anxiety meds, but this .
. . this she could do. You’re with a pack bitch now, rich boy.
And I guarantee Leelee VanderCunt wouldn’t suck your cock like this.
He was thick and long, but her gag reflex was minimal and she could open her throat.
“What the fuck, Adi. Am I just supposed to lie here like a slug? Can you at least turn around?” he demanded, nearly dislodging her from the sofa.
“We’re about to have our first fight,” she warned him, laughing as she stumbled off the sofa. “Why can’t I just suck your cock without it needing to be a contest?”
Trapp reached out, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her leggings, pulling them and her panties straight down. “If your pussy was on my mouth, I wouldn’t be arguing, would I? Why don’t you help me shut up?”
“This is not what this sofa was built for,” she laughed, climbing back over him unsteadily, squeaking when he pulled her by the hips until she was positioned over his face. Adriana reached around, rescuing his glasses before she was pulled onto his mouth.
“Trapp, this is not a minor astigmatism. This is the prescription of someone with a serious vision issue.”
“I’d say the better to see you with, but without them, I really can’t.”
The first stroke of his tongue against her made her eyes roll back and her thighs tremble around his face, nearly toppling off him.
Long licks, his tongue wide and flat, she imagined this was what his wolf would do to her as well.
When his lips closed around the pearl of her clit, sucking lightly, she rocked against him involuntarily, her breath hitching.
“I want to still be able to taste this perfect pussy during the change,” he groaned against her. “Ride my tongue and come on my mouth until I’m drowning.”
She was helpless to oblige.
She’d always thought that it wasn’t fair for him to be handsome and smart and rich, and now she could add this — it wasn’t fair that he was everything he was and could reduce her to a quivering heap atop him so easily.
His tongue stroked back and forth, sliding through her folds, over and around her clit, his lips sucking until she bucked against him again, crying out.
She could barely reach his cock from her position, stretching until her lips closed around his head.
His knot had begun to swell, and Adriana dragged her blunt, too-short nails over it.
Soon enough, they would be black claws, and then she could scratch him.
Trapp hitched beneath her when she gripped his scrotum, massaging his balls in time to the way his tongue worked against her.
She was rocking against him, riding his mouth, tilting her hips at just the right angle that gave his tongue the most surface coverage over her, friction right where she needed it.
Trapp groaned against her, the wordless encouragement she needed.
She wanted his knot. She needed his knot.
She needed to be filled by him, needed him to cool the heat in her blood and fill her till she was bursting with him, but first she needed to shake apart against his tongue.
Adriana jolted when he raised a hand to grip her ass, smacking her lightly, encouraging her to move the way she needed.
She didn’t need to be told again. Her hips began to move steadily, his tongue rubbing her clit in a way that made her toes curl, heat bubbling in her veins, spreading through her core, and when he sucked again, hard, she broke.
Adriana wheezed, hips stuttering, pulsing against his tongue. Trapp never slowed, never stopped, worked her through it, his head not pulling back until she was slack atop him.
After that, he wasted no time reversing their positions.
She had no idea how he flipped them so easily in such a narrow space, pulling her up to her knees beneath him.
“Do you need my knot?”
His voice was a rumble in her ear, his cock pressing into her in one long, endless thrust, until her body was flush to his. He already knew the answer, for there was no doubt he could feel the way her breath was hitching, her heart thudding.
“The smell of you is making me crazy,” he groaned. “But I need to know you want it, Adi. Do you want to take my knot?”
His hips snapped, hard and deep, and the high-pitched sound that came out of her on each thrust reverberated around the high ceiling.
She’d spent too many full moons seeking to cool her blood with random hook-ups that never quite satisfied, once with a surgeon who liked it rough, and she’d settled for his brand of pleasure for several months in an effort to appease her baser nature, but this .
. . this was what she’d been missing. All those years of unsatisfying hook-ups because her body already knew the shape of him, knew that she was made for him, and maybe him alone.
His knot kissed her entrance on every hard thrust, making her see stars.
“Please. Please, Trapp. Give it to me. I want it.”
The groan in her hair made her shiver. His speed increased, the hands he had splayed over hers tightening. His nose pushed against her hair, inhaling, pushing against her until he had access to her neck, teeth dragging over her skin. “I love hearing you beg for me.”
She was certain the nosy satyr across the street was able to hear the strangled sound that ripped from her throat when his knot popped into place within her, her body going rigid, the orgasm so deep it almost hurt.
His teeth came down on her neck, groaning as he came, his hips jerking, and Adriana was certain she’d passed out, going limp beneath him.
When her eyes opened, her blood was cool, and she was flattened against the sofa beneath him.
“What were we thinking? There are three bedrooms in this place. Why the fuck are we on the couch?”
His laughter was a rumbling vibration against her, and she tried to control her own, for each tug of his knot within her made her wince. Somehow, Trapp slid them to the floor, curling her on her side, a little spoon tucked against him, tied to him.
Her head was heavy. She felt languid and loose, her eyes closing . . .
The windows shook in their casements as a rumble of thunder shook the house. Trapp groaned into her hair. “I am so sick of this fucking rain. Fine, you win. We can stay home in your yard. But tomorrow morning I’m putting up a fucking tarp.”
She sighed in contentment, her head pillowed on his arm, his fingers in her hair. It would have been childish to gloat, but there was nothing she wanted more than to stay here, where she knew she was safe. With him, where she knew she was safe. “That sounds perfect to me.”