Chapter 18 #2
The sensation is electric. He pulls back slowly, the sloppy noise sounds obscene in the quiet bathroom. His tongue swirls around the head, teasing the slit.
“You taste good, Wolf,” he praises, licking at the leak beading at the tip. He keeps stroking me from base to head as he laps at the opening greedily.
My hand flies to the wall, steadying myself as he takes the entire length of me again and gags.
“Garrett…” I gasp his name.
His cheeks hollow out to consume me and thought becomes impossible. He is sucking me hard like a goddamn reaper trying to withdraw my life force. My hips begin jerking in an irregular rhythm.
I try to show restraint, to keep still and let him control this.
But restraint has never been my strength and Garrett is too good at this. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect, taking me deeper than should be possible.
My hand finds his hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands. I pull him closer, my hips rocking forward. He hums around me and the vibration nearly undoes me completely.
“Oh fuck…” I curse again, my thoughts scattering. “I’m going to—”
Garrett doesn’t pull away or slow down. He just looks up at me with those green eyes and takes me even deeper, his throat relaxing to accommodate me.
My hand tightens in his hair, anchoring myself. I shove him harder against me to fuck his mouth. His throat works around me and his tongue moves deftly, making my vision blur.
I can’t help it. He’s swallowing me alive. His hands come up to grip my thighs as he takes it.
Release slams through me without warning. My whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through me in waves. It goes on longer than I expect, wave after wave until I’m shaking against the wall.
Garrett’s mouth stays on me, sucking me harder and swallowing every drop. His tongue works me through it, wringing out every last bit of pleasure. He rides out the orgasm with me until the last twitch.
What have I done? My grip goes slack as I uncurl my fingers from his hair carefully.
“I’m sorry—”
The apology dies in my throat as he pulls back slowly, letting me slip from his mouth. He tilts his head up, opening his mouth to show me my release pooled on his tongue. His eyes lock with mine, holding my gaze as he closes his mouth and swallows.
This fucking guy…
Garrett smiles, smug and satisfied. His tongue darts out to catch what’s left on his lips.
He stands, water sluicing down his body. I want to pull him close and return the favor until he’s the one shaking. But Garrett just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, that smug smile never wavering, and turns to walk out of the shower. He grabs a towel from the rack as he goes.
I watch him, my brain still trying to restart. He wraps the towel around his waist and picks up that bottle again. Then he leaves the bathing chamber without a word.
Fuck that.
The smugness in his expression is fucking infuriating.
I don’t even bother turning off the water. The shower is still running behind me, steam billowing into the bedroom as I step out dripping wet and follow him.
Garrett is lounging on the bed now, propped up against the headboard with that wine bottle still in hand like he hasn’t got a care in the world.
The towel around his waist is the only thing he’s wearing, riding low on his hips. Water droplets still cling to his chest and shoulders. He takes another slow drink.
“Feeling better?” he asks, voice dripping with false innocence.
I cross the room in three long strides, water dripping from my hair and body onto the expensive rugs. I snatch the bottle from his hand before he can react and set it down on the bedside table.
Then I’m on him.
I push him back into the pillows and kiss him hard enough to bruise. My weight pins him to the mattress, all my muscle and size bearing down on him.
Garrett makes a sound of surprise that melts into pleasure. His hands come up immediately to grip my shoulders. We’re both hard. I can feel him pressed against my stomach, hot and demanding. The friction makes him gasp into my mouth.
I break the kiss to catch my breath. We’re both panting, faces inches apart on the pillow.
His green eyes are dark, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any color left. “Do you want me, Wolf?”
The words send heat straight through my entire body. I want him so badly that my hands are actually shaking where they’re braced on either side of his head.
But I freeze.
The want crashes into reality and reality wins.
My sexual experience is pathetically limited to a handful of rushed encounters at the Gilded Lily. I’ve never done this with another guy. I don’t know what I’m doing.
Garrett must see the hesitation written all over my face because he quirks an eyebrow.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly.
“I’ve never—” I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this.”
For a long moment he just stares at me. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He reaches up to trace the line of my jaw with gentle fingers. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right. I don’t—” I pause for a beat. “I don’t know how to make it good for you.”
I expect him to be disappointed and realize I’m not worth this trouble.
Instead he says quietly, “I’ve never been on the receiving end either. I don’t know how it works from that position. I’ve always been the one in control.”
I stare at him, processing his words. The mental image I’ve had for weeks, of me pushing him down, taking him that’s the only version I know. It’s the only version that makes sense to me.
“So we’re fucking incompatible then?” I say flatly.
He pulls me down into another kiss, slower and sweeter this time.
“Garrett—”
“I want you anyway,” he says firmly against my mouth.
His hands slide down my back, exploring lower. He knows what he wants and he’s not afraid to take it.
“I don’t think this will work,” I say against his lips. “Why should I be the one to—”
“Would you let me be the one who fucks you?” he asks directly.
The question stops me cold. Images flash through my mind. Dreams I’ve had of Garrett pinning me down, his hands holding my wrists and his belt wrapped around them. I was completely at his mercy and wanting it.
Fuck.
“I...” I don’t know what to say.
“Let me show you,” he murmurs between soft kisses to my jaw, my throat. “Just trust me. Trust us.”
He reaches over to the bedside table, fumbling in the drawer for something. His hand emerges holding a small glass vial of clear oil.
“Come on. Let me take care of you for once.” He pushes at my shoulder gently, guiding me onto my back. “Don’t worry, Wolf. I’ll take good care of you.”
He wants to give this to me.
It feels strange. Wrong, almost. I’m supposed to be the one protecting him, taking care of him. Not the other way around. I’ve spent my entire life being the weapon, the shield, the one who handles things so others don’t have to. Being on the receiving end of care feels strange.
My scars are on full display like this. The knife wound across my ribs from the forest ambush years ago. Lashes and burn marks on my left side from the guild’s punishment. Dozens of smaller scars from years of violence.
Garrett looks like he belongs in paintings and marble halls. His skin is untouched elegance, perfect in every way. He should be the one being worshipped, not the other way around.
Why would someone like him look at a body carved apart like mine and see anything worth wanting?
“Lay back,” Garrett says softly, setting the vial aside for a moment. His hands settle on my shoulders. “Just breathe and ease into this.”
His hands start working my muscles, finding knots of tension.
They press into my chest before sliding lower, mapping the planes of my stomach.
He moves to my sides next, thumbs digging into the muscles along my ribs.
It feels good. I try to maintain some control, but his hands are magic.
Within minutes I’m melting into the mattress despite myself.
I realize with horror that I’m hard again. My cock stands at attention, rigid and demanding.
“Look at that,” Garrett says, voice warm with amusement. “Someone’s enjoying this.”
Heat floods my face. “Shut up.”
“You’re twitching so excitedly.” His hand slides lower, fingertips grazing my thighs. “I haven’t even started yet.”
He picks up the vial again, uncorking it. I hear the pour of oil, then feel his slicked hands on my thighs.
The oil is warm. It feels good against my skin, slick and smooth as his hands work it in.
“Just breathe,” he says quietly. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel right. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I manage to say.
“Don’t be scared.”
“Fuck you. I’m not scared.”
He’s watching my face intently for any sign of discomfort as his slicked fingers trace lower, finding places I’ve never let anyone touch before. The first touch is tentative and careful.
It’s strange. Not bad, just... different.
Intimate.
My chest feels too tight. My breathing comes faster. Garrett is seeing parts of me, touching parts of me, that no one was ever meant to see. But I don’t stop him.
As long as it’s him, it’s fine. He can take everything. My heart, my marrow, my soul. All of it. Everything I am.
“Is this all right?” he asks, pausing.
I nod, not trusting my voice to work properly.
He takes his time.
One finger. Then two. Preparing me while kissing my chest, my stomach, anywhere he can reach.
“You’re amazing, Wolf.” A kiss to my ribs. I barely hear the encouragements and praises through the haze of sensation.
The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign at first. Every instinct tells me to fight it, to pull away.
But Garrett’s other hand soothes over my hip, my thigh, keeping me grounded.
“Garrett,” I manage. “That’s enough. I’m ready—”
“Not yet.” His fingers move deeper, stretching carefully. “Let me take my time so you can take all of me later.”
I swallow hard, nervous despite myself. I’ve seen his cock. The idea of taking that inside feels impossible.
“You’re doing so well,” he whispers against my ribs. “So good for me.”