Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Aidan
Alistair doesn’t need to be asked twice. He lunges at me, and the two of us tumble back onto the giant bed. I can’t help laughing, although that fades when I feel his cock hard against me.
His mouth clashes with mine in what might be the most aggressive kiss I’ve ever had. If you’d asked me earlier, I would have said I didn’t like rough kisses. I would have been wrong, because just a few seconds of this has me hard as a pike and aching. I actually whine when he pulls away.
“As delicious as your mouth is,” he pants, “it’s not what I want to be kissing right now. Strip.”
Yes. I rip my shirt off, buttons scattering, and fumble to get out of my trousers. Alistair is somehow naked before me and rummaging through his overnight bag for… lube?
“I thought you were going to suck me off,” I say as he comes back to the bed and sets the bottle on the nightstand. Not that I’d complain about any activity that needs lube.
“No, I’m going to show you what a good ball licker I am,” he corrects, climbing up beside me and then sliding down my body so his face is level with my very excited and eager cock. “And then, when I’ve got you so hard and primed that a breath could send you over the edge, you’re going to fuck me.”
If I didn’t have hundreds of years of practice at controlling myself, just those words would have done the trick.
“If I have to,” I agree. “But for all your boasting, I’ve yet to—ungh!”
As his delectably hot, wet tongue swipes over me again, my eyes roll back and I clutch the bedcovers.
Then he sets to work in earnest.
He said he was an expert ball licker, and he seems determined to prove it, lavishing attention on each of mine.
His tongue traces along every crevice, every inch of skin, sometimes feathering so lightly that I arch my back, searching for more pressure.
Then he sucks them into his mouth, first one, then the other, surrounding me in hot, wet delight.
I lose track of what happens after that. My dick is screaming for attention, but he’s fixed on licking and sucking what feels like everywhere else, until I’m whimpering, holding on by a thread. The barbs just below the head of my cock pop out, a sure sign I’m about to blow.
Fuck that. I’m a shifter—my refractory period is minutes. I’ll get it up again to fuck him.
As if he can read my mind, he clamps his thumb and forefinger firmly around the base of my cock, and I yell.
Raising his head, he smirks at me, his mouth wet and puffy. “I told you. Not until a breath would make you come.”
“I’m feckin’ close,” I pant, then wish I hadn’t when he scoots back and lets me go. The barbs have retracted.
“Take some time to cool off,” he suggests with a wink. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of in the meantime.” He reaches for the lube.
It takes my overburdened brain a moment to realize what he needs that for, but then I raise my head to watch, flinching as the movement causes air to whisper across my very sensitive flesh.
He pours out a generous amount of lube, then props himself on the other elbow and puts on a show for me. There’s no doubt of that—he’s positioned himself to give me the perfect view, and when I look at his face, his eyes are fixed on me.
My gaze is irresistibly drawn back to where two of his big, thick fingers are sliding into his hole, and I swallow hard, mesmerized. I want in there.
“Alistair,” I croak, and he laughs.
“Patience.”
He’s diabolical.
Unable to resist, I roll onto my hands and knees and crawl over to him, then, looking him in the eye, I stroke a fingertip lightly down the length of his massive erection.
He hisses.
I bend and kiss him. “Hurry up.”
In the next instant, he’s lurching upright and grabbing me around the waist, fastening his mouth to mine for a sloppy, fast kiss. “How do you want me?”
“On your back.” It’s my turn to torment him, and I want to see his face when I do.
Obligingly, he flops onto his back, knees bent and feet planted apart, much as he was just a few moments ago. I trace around his pucker, which is glistening with lube and quivers at my touch.
“Ai-dan,” he growls.
“Yes?” My finger strokes lightly up over the sensitive skin of his taint, toward his dick.
“Fuck me now, or I’ll never lick your balls again.” He pauses. “I’m still waiting to hear your acknowledgement that I’m the ultimate ball licker.”
“You’re the ultimate ball licker,” I concede. It’s praise he certainly deserves. I get on my knees and move between his legs. His breathing speeds up.
I love this. Love having this big, tough hellhound willingly at my mercy.
Taking my cock in hand, I slide the head over Alistair’s crease. He growls again, and I press myself lightly to his hole, just enough for him to feel it but not enough to breach the ring of muscle. Sweat breaks out down my back from holding back. I want nothing more than to plunge inside right now.
“Just you wait,” he promises darkly, and it’s too much for my self-restraint. I can torture him another time.
I push forward steadily, giving him time to adjust but not faltering until I’m seated all the way inside him.
An explosive breath bursts from each of us.
“You feel amazing,” I gasp.
He just moans. “Moooooove.”
So I do. The hot, tight clasp of his body is reluctant to let me withdraw—I’m pretty sure he’s been doing his kegel exercises—but he’s urging me on, begging me to thrust, and I’m so close, so ready.
I get a hand around his cock, feeling the finger-like cartilage of his barbs, and he shouts, spurting so hard that he clenches around me, and that’s it.
I have my face buried in the crook of his neck and he’s petting my hair when reality comes back into focus.
It’s nice. Being species leader has kept me really busy, so intimate moments like these have been few and far between.
I love being petted, whether in cat or biped form, and Alistair is using just the right amount of pressure…
I might take a nap.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he says in a smug voice, as though he knows what I’m thinking and is taking credit for my extreme relaxation. Which, to be fair, he did play a part in. “We need to talk about your adventure earlier.”
My adventure? Is that what we’re calling sex?
Oh. He means the window.
Groaning, I pull my face out of his neck and roll onto my back. The room is dim in the late afternoon light, but of course I can see almost perfectly. There are a lot of benefits to being a shifter.
“Okay, yeah. What do you want to know?” I deliberately keep my voice grumbly, not wanting him to know how much I enjoyed my little “adventure.” It took me right back to the hijinks I used to get up to when I was a teenager and had my first shift.
Post-shift adolescence is a time of pushing boundaries, and I think I must have climbed anything within reach that was above shoulder-height, just for the joy of it.
I haven’t done that—climbed without purpose—in so very long. Being an adult is no fun sometimes.
“Any problems?”
My first instinct is to say no, but I make myself think about it properly.
This is important to him—and me. If I have to do that again, it will be because someone is after me, potentially to kill me or at least take me captive and use me as a bargaining chip against Percy and CSG.
I have to be sure I can pull off my escape.
“It’s a little awkward getting out the window,” I admit. “I have to jump up from the vanity and then hold myself there, hanging halfway out the window while I get a good grip on the wall outside.”
There’s a rustle of sheets as he sits up, and I look over to see a thoughtful expression on his face.
“So you need something higher off the ground to brace yourself on?”
I shrug. “That would make it easier—probably faster. It’s not a deal breaker, though.”
“There’s not a lot of extra furniture here to work with—not at the right height, anyway.
We could maybe use one of the stools from downstairs and stack something on top of it…
or if I can work out a way to make it stable, put a stool on the vanity.
” He sounds a little doubtful about that, and as the person who will be crashing to the floor if the stool turns out not to be fully stable, I appreciate that.
My stomach chooses this moment to growl, and he turns to look at me with a broad grin.
“You’re hungry? Me too. I’ll grab whatever we have left downstairs to tide us over, and we can order a proper meal.”
The thought of food makes my mouth water.
“Deal.” I lift myself into a sitting position and reach over to flick on one of the bedside lamps as he climbs out of bed, turning back just in time to watch him stroll, naked, from the room, his ass flexing beautifully with each step.
I bite back a sigh. The beefier build of hellhounds makes their nude forms such a pleasure to watch, and Alistair clearly dedicates a lot of time and effort to maintaining his body. The muscle definition is just lovely.
I had my hands—and mouth—all over those lovely muscles. And you can bet your ass I will again.
He comes bouncing back in within a few minutes, balancing a plate holding the last of the fruit, a couple of boxes of Pop-Tarts, half a loaf of bread, and a box of cereal.
Not the greatest of feasts, but definitely sufficient to hold us until real food arrives.
There’s something delightful about having a naked man bring me food—it’s something I could get used to very quickly.
“What?” he asks as he dumps the spoils of his hunt onto the mattress. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He’s teasing, of course—I’m giving off a pretty strong scent of arousal right now, even if he doesn’t see the tent in the sheet.
“I like you naked and catering to my every whim,” I respond solemnly, keeping my face straight by dint of sheer will. “Maybe I’ll ask Percy to reassign you to be my personal aide.”