Chapter 17 Lupo
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer. The air between us is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, with the weight of what we’ve already done—and what I still want to do to her.
“Then we’ll figure it out together.” She tilts her head up, her eyes locking onto mine, and I see nothing but trust there. It terrifies me. Because I don’t deserve it. Not when I don’t even know what I’m capable of.
But right now, she’s looking at me like I’m the man who read bedtime stories to her daughter. Like I’m the man who fixed her fence. Like I’m not the monster I might be.
“Even if there’s more? Even if there’s darkness?” I ask, my voice rough.
“Everyone has darkness.” Her expression flickers—pain, old wounds. “What matters is what you do with it. And you use yours to protect. To keep us safe. I see that in you.”
I kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer. My arms tighten around her almost involuntarily, and I force myself to ease up. Always careful. Always controlled. Because I don’t know what I’m capable of when I lose control.
“I don’t deserve you,” I murmur against her hair.
“Probably not.” I feel her smile against my skin. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
“Good.” My hand moves before I can stop it, sliding up to cup her breast. Her nipple hardens under my thumb, and I feel myself responding, blood rushing to my cock. Already hard. Again. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
She arches into my touch. “Oh really? And what did you have in mind?”
Everything. I want everything.
“I want to learn every inch of you.” My voice is rough, hungry. “Every sound you make. Every way to make you come apart.”
I feel her breath catch, feel the heat flood through her body where we’re pressed together. “Elena might hear us,” she says.
“The door is locked.” My hand trails lower, down her stomach, between her thighs. She’s still wet from before, slick and ready. “And I promise to keep you quiet. Mostly.”
She gasps as my fingers find her, and the sound goes straight to my cock. I’m pressed against her hip, wanting her with an intensity that should frighten me. Maybe it does. But not enough to stop.
“Lupo.”
“Tell me to stop and I will.” I kiss down her neck, her shoulder. “But God, Isabella, I need you again. Already.”
“Then take me.” Her legs open for me, inviting.
The trust in her words, in that gesture, it nearly undoes me. But I force myself to go slow. To be careful. To keep the tight control I have on whatever darkness lives inside me.
This time, I’m going to explore her.
I slide down her body, kissing every inch of skin I can reach. Her collarbone. The valley between her breasts. Her ribs. The soft curve of her stomach. She’s trembling under my touch, her breath coming faster.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is shaky.
“Learning you.” I kiss her hip bone, then lower. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t you dare stop.”
I settle between her thighs, looking up at her. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. She’s beautiful. And she’s mine.
The possessive thought should worry me. Should make me question what kind of man I am. But right now, I don’t care.
I lower my mouth to her and she gasps, her hips bucking up. I hold her down, my hands gripping her thighs, keeping her in place while I explore. I learn what makes her moan. What makes her gasp. What makes her fist her hands in the sheets.
When I find the spot that makes her cry out, I focus there. Circling. Sucking. Using my tongue and lips and even my teeth, careful at first, then less so as she writhes beneath me.
“Lupo.” She’s panting now. “Oh God, Lupo, I’m—”
“Let go,” I murmur against her. “I’ve got you.”
She shatters beautifully, her whole body tensing, then releasing. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, until she’s boneless and gasping.
Then I kiss my way back up her body. Slowly. Taking my time.
When I reach her mouth, she kisses me desperately, tasting herself on my lips.
“Inside me,” she whispers. “Please. I need you inside me.”
I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against slick heat. “Tell me if it’s too much. If you’re too sensitive or sore.”
“I’m not.” She wraps her legs around my waist, trying to pull me in. “Please.”
I push inside slowly, watching her face. Looking for any sign of discomfort. Any hint that this is too much, too soon. But she just moans, her head falling back, her body accepting me.
“God, you feel good.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “So perfect. Like you were made for me.”
“Maybe I was,” she breathes.
I start to move. Slow, deep thrusts. Savoring every sensation. Every small sound she makes. Every flutter of her inner walls around me.
But the beast living inside me is restless. It wants more. It wants to take. To claim.
“Harder,” she whispers. “I can take it. I want it.”
“Isabella…” It’s a warning. A plea.
“I trust you.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Let go. Stop holding back.”
Her words are a spark to the powder keg inside me. The last thread of my control snaps.
I don’t ask. I don’t warn her.
I grip her hips and flip her onto her stomach in one rough motion. She gasps, but before she can react, I’m pulling her up onto her knees, her ass pressed against my cock, her back arched. She’s exposed. Vulnerable.
And so fucking mine.
My hand tangles in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to press my lips to her ear. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes,” she moans.
I slam into her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her body tightening around me like a vice. The sensation is almost too much—hot, wet, perfect.
“Fuck,” I groan, my grip on her hip tightening. “You feel like you were made for this. For me.”
I pull back and drive into her again, harder this time, my hips slapping against her ass. The sound fills the room—skin on skin, her ragged breaths, the creak of the bed. I can feel the darkness inside me rising, the need to take, to claim, to ruin her for anyone else.
“Oh, God yes,” she cries out, pushing back against me, meeting every thrust. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
I won’t.
I release her hair and grip both her hips, my fingers digging into her skin as I pound into her, each thrust deeper, rougher than the last. She’s taking everything I give her, her body clenching around me, her moans buried in the pillow.
“You’re mine,” I snarl, my voice raw, my control completely gone. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she gasps, her voice breaking.
I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight, punishing circles. “Come for me,” I demand. “Now.”
Her body tenses, her back arching as the orgasm rips through her. She cries out, her inner walls pulsing around my cock, and it’s all I need.
I lose it.
With a groan, I bury myself deep and let go, my release crashing over me in waves. I grip her hips so hard I know there’ll be bruises, my cock pulsing inside her as I fill her.
I don’t stop until I’m empty, until my body is spent and my breath is ragged. Only then do I ease my grip, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her against me.
She collapses onto the bed, and I follow, my body covering hers, my lips pressing to the back of her neck.
“You’re mine,” I murmur again, my voice rough with possession.
I should be worried about that possessiveness. Should question what it means about who I am. But as I lie there with her still wrapped around me, her fingers trailing patterns on my back, her breath warm against my neck.
I can’t bring myself to care.
She turns her head just enough to meet my eyes, her expression dazed, her lips swollen. “And you’re mine.”
I kiss her, hard and deep, the darkness inside me finally quiet.
For now.