Chapter 24
Robbie held still as she slid down his length with all the reverence of a monk at vespers. He held still as she sat down on his lap, his aching, throbbing dick fully inside of her wet heat. He held still as she took a deep breath.
But then she’d asked him if it was enough and his control had snapped like a rubber band.
He kissed her with a ferocity that surprised him.
He was still himself, but somehow more. Like he was becoming a new version of himself in real time.
He briefly thought of Pokémon evolutions but shut that down immediately because he was not going to imagine himself as a Pokémon while balls-deep inside the most captivating person he’d ever met.
He hardly knew her. And yet he knew her. He felt like he knew her on a cellular level, on an elemental level, an atomic level. Hell, a cosmic level. Like everything he had ever done in his life had led him to this moment, this woman, this car, this sex.
She began to ride him, slowly and hesitantly. He kissed her like he was starving, like she was the one feeding him instead of the other way around.
She felt so good. So goddamn right.
He’d been so shaky with adrenaline when he’d driven after her, weak with the crash once he’d found her, once he’d found her alive.
His hands had been trembling when he’d removed her bra, when he’d cupped her tits in his hands, when he’d taken off his boxer briefs.
And then she’d sucked his cock, and he’d had to hold onto her hair and the overhead handle just to keep them from shaking in earnest.
He’d been getting stronger and stronger every day, but now, with Nadja in his lap, in his arms, the most animal part of him sheathed inside the most protected part of her, he felt stronger than he ever had in his life.
Whatever she had done to him, whatever she was doing, she was magic. Pure and simple.
“Nadja,” he said against her neck, the taste of her skin lighting up his tastebuds, making his brain go haywire.
“Robbie,” she whined, riding him harder, grinding at the bottom, looking for something.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, releasing her left hip to slip his thumb down between where their bodies pressed together, slipping it through her wetness, to rub against her clit.
She moaned, freezing.
“Is that good, Nadja?” he whispered in the quiet.
“Don’t stop,” she said, an exhale as much as it was a command.
He’d do anything she asked. Anything at all. He’d change his name. He’d move. He’d abandon everything he’d ever known. Keeping his thumb pressed tight to her clit was easy.
She lost her rhythm, lost to pleasure, seeming confused by it at the same time.
“It’s never been like this,” she panted. “It’s never… I’ve never… I don’t…”
“Shhh,” he crooned. “I’ve got you, Doc. Just hold on.”
He thrust up into her as hard as he could and her eyelids flew open.
“Oh!” She gasped, and he liked the sound so much that he did it again.
And again.
And again.
Clinging to her right hip with his left hand while he thumbed her clit with his right. His abs were on fire, his legs trembling from the effort of fucking up into her, but he’d die before he stopped.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t change anything,” she chanted, over and over and over again.
And then she went rigid and he felt the milking clasp of her cunt around his cock. He stopped thrusting but kept circling his thumb, leaning forward to suck hard at her nipple, pinching the other with his left hand while she shuddered and cried and shook through her orgasm.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, so he kept at it, kept sucking, kept circling, kept counting to hold back his own finish. But she started to move again, lifting her hips and slamming them forward, the friction proving to be too much for him.
Against her nipple, he gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna come, Nadja. You’re gonna make me come so fucking hard, baby.”
“Do it,” she keened, and he obeyed, his cock pulsing so hard that it was almost painful as he emptied himself into her in short bursts that made his vision go spotty.
She collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily. He wrapped his arms around her, gripping his own forearms to hold her as close to him as he could, feeling the pounding of her heartbeat against his chest, the raggedness of her breathing matching his own.
Slowly, he came back to himself. He felt the wet slide of his come as it leaked out of her and down his balls. He felt the heat of her body, the way she was so relaxed in his arms, as if she trusted him to hold her, to keep her safe.
He would hold her. He would protect her. He would keep her heart, body, and soul safe. In that moment, he couldn’t help but feel like that was what he’d been put on this earth to do.
“Wow,” she said against his neck.
“Wow,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She stiffened in his arms.
“Was that okay?” he asked, kicking himself, because what they’d just done was fucking, but forehead kisses after fucking were reserved for girlfriends and boyfriends. Forehead kisses were intimate in a way that fucking could never be.
“Just another first,” she said, relaxing.
He didn’t know what to say to that. His mama had always kissed his forehead at bedtime, even when he was a teenager.
And he’d had a boyfriend, an impossibly tall boyfriend, who had loved to kiss his forehead, too.
He’d done it with a few girlfriends. But the thought that nobody had ever kissed Nadja on the forehead in her entire life, however long that had been—and he wondered—broke his heart.
“Can I do it again?” he asked.
She sighed. “Mm-hmm.”
And so, holding her warm, solid body against him, marveling at how strong and alive she felt in comparison to the cold haint of herself that he’d held in bed every night before, he pressed his lips against her forehead, inhaling deeply the smell of her hair, allowing himself to do that for the first time without feeling like a creeper who was taking advantage.
“I liked that,” she said sleepily.
“Me, too, Doc,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her forehead once more. “Me, too.”
The sun was setting when they pulled back onto the commune, each driving the vehicle they’d taken, and it was full dark when they made it back to the cabin.
They’d detoured at the mess hall to grab the makings of sandwiches for dinner, only to find that Rose had made hotel pans of something that looked to Robbie like baked ziti but which Rose had insisted was something called “mostaccioli,” which she pronounced “musckacholie.”
They’d filled their plates and sat at a table in the back, joined by Rose and someone she introduced as her nephew, a wolf named Theo who handled a lot of the mechanical things around the commune.
Theo was interested in helping Robbie to fix the vent hood over the stove to make it work more efficiently.
As Theo talked about the electrical guts of ventilation systems, Robbie couldn’t help but shift his leg open to rub his knee against Nadja’s.
She smiled at her plate, and he noticed just how much more color she had than before.
She’d been so pale since the beginning, and he’d always just assumed that was her color.
But now there was a pinkness to her cheeks, a brightness to her complexion. She looked so… alive.
Rose caught them smiling at each other and smirked, which made Nadja blush.
Robbie was enchanted to see that her blush wasn’t limited to her cheeks. She blushed from the collar of her sweater to her hairline. Her ears turned especially red. How charming was that? How adorable was she?
Robbie took their plates to the dish line, scraped them, and carefully loaded them into one of the racks so that they could go through the big industrial dishwasher. He returned to find Nadja and Rose alone at the table.
“Took you long enough,” Rose said.
“There was a line at the dish bin,” Robbie protested.
“That’s not what I was talking about,” Rose said with a sly grin. “Your mate looks better than I’ve ever seen her. Good boy.”
It was Robbie’s turn to blush. He felt his own ears heating from the praise. Nadja muttered under her breath, “What the fuck, Rose?”
Rose laughed.
“You smell good on her,” she said.
Robbie opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.
He’d never thought about how Nadja might smell different.
He’d been so focused on getting her home and getting her actual food, now that her energy bank was full, that he hadn’t really paid attention.
And then, the smells of the pack, of the pasta, of the bleach and cleaning agents always lingering in a big dining space, had all covered anything he might have noticed about her.
Robbie sat down in his chair and leaned in, resting his chin on Nadja’s shoulder and inhaling deeply, bringing the scent of her deep into his lungs.
Rose was right. She did smell different.
Sweeter somehow. Richer. He thought about the time that the restaurant made them attend a wine tasting class where the sommelier talked about flavor notes.
Dark berries. Chocolate. She smelled like a full-bodied red wine, rich and jammy with a complex finish.
The smell of her made his blood run hot.
It made it mouth water just how good she smelled, how good he smelled on her.
He stood and bent at his waist, lifting Nadja out of her chair and throwing her over his shoulder like he’d seen firefighters do.
Nadja shrieked, drawing the eyes of all the pack members remaining.
“I gotta… we gotta go,” Robbie said as a farewell before turning on his heel and striding for the exit, leaving a cackling Rose and an amused pack behind.
Once clear of the mess hall, Robbie took off at a jog.
“Robbie, what the hell?” Nadja asked, pushing against his back to lever her torso more upright. He could feel the way his back muscles shifted under her palms. He felt stronger somehow, even in the last few hours.
“I’m hungry,” he said.