Chapter 16 #2
She eyes my cock like it’s a snake as she slides her arm under my shoulder. I grunt as she helps me sit up. Raspberries and violets wash over me and I lean into her for support, drinking in every drop of her. I want more. So much more.
Surprise jolts through me when she cups my jaw. “You have something all over your mouth. Like blood, but it’s dark.”
“I killed them,” I say simply. “I ripped out their throats. Perhaps I do need a shower.”
Her mouth drops. “Are the bodies just out in the street?”
Out of everything, that’s what horrifies her?
“Well, I didn’t exactly have time to give them a proper witch burial, Morgan.”
She narrows her eyes on me. “You annoy me so much, Sylvan. You’re such an alphahole.”
I preen under the compliment. “Thank you. Help me get to the shower. You can touch me if you want.”
Her eyes narrow further, but she helps me stand.
I lean into her and close my eyes, steadying myself.
My chest and back hurt. Fresh blood drips from the wounds, but I’m still determined to shower and get everything off myself.
And get off. I don’t know how I’m horny right now.
Maybe it’s an adrenaline response or maybe it’s the fact that I lived and I’m naked and Morgan is right here, her plump berry scent taunting me.
Or the fact that for two weeks I haven’t had her to myself.
I’m selfish. Or I’m becoming selfish. I deny myself the bond I crave, and yet I can’t stand to let her out of my sight.
Morgan helps me up the stairs and into the bathroom attached to my room. She flips on the shower, but I’m already pulling her close to me.
“Sylvan,” she whispers.
“What if I fall?” I murmur.
She sighs and tilts her head back. “You just got shot three times and yet you’re acting like a horny wolf.”
“I am,” I mumble. “Take your dress off. I want to see you.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
Our words hang in the air as steam billows around us. Morgan reaches for the hem of her dress and tugs it up. My blood has ruined it, soaking through the fabric of that, her bra, and even her panties.
She strips down and steps into the shower. It’s big enough for both of us, modern compared to the rest of the house. It’s why I chose this room to begin with.
I hiss as I join her and the water pelts my skin.
“We’re just washing off,” she says.
“Will you wash me?”
Morgan’s cheeks are crimson and I wonder if she’s going to kick me. But instead, she pumps soap into her hands and pushes me back against the tiled wall, lathering it up in her palms.
“No funny business. Keep your hands to yourself.”
My wolf chuckles. I like it when she’s bossy. All the pain I’ve endured today fades as I focus on her and the way she starts to rub my muscles. She spreads the soap over my chest, gentle around the wounds, and then across my collarbone. My biceps. Down my stomach . . .
I huff out a breath as her hands inch further down, smoothing over the V of my hips.
All the blood and dirt spins down the drain. My cock hardens as Morgan’s fingertips graze it, tracing one of the veins.
“It’s a bad idea,” she whispers.
“The worst,” I choke out.
“You got shot.”
“Three times.”
“And you’re not even in a rut.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m not in heat.”
“Yet.”
“So why do I want you so much right now?”
“The adrenaline, I’m sure,” I whisper.
“Right.” She drags her cute tongue over her bottom lip, her eyes still pinned to my cock. “The adrenaline.”
“Maybe you’re turned on by danger.”
Her laugh is husky. “Maybe. Or I’m just turned on by you.”
My heart stops beating as she kneels on the floor. Her palms run down my thighs as the head of my cock brushes against her lips. She smiles against it as she lathers more soap together and strokes my cock, cupping my balls, working them in a way that has me panting.
I can’t think straight right now. She’s right about this being a terrible idea, but I want her so fucking much it hurts almost as much as the silver bullet wounds.
She strokes my cock up and down, her hands slick. I lean back against the shower wall with a grunt. I’m lightheaded from blood loss and shouldn’t be doing this, probably. But I can’t stop. I don’t want her to stop.
Once the hot water rinses all the soap off, she opens her mouth.
“Wait,” I rasp. “Stop. You don’t have to.”
Her hand wraps around the base of my swollen cock, gripping my knot there. It’s not quite as defined as it is when I’m in my wolf form, but it’s still thick and swollen with lust, and even her hand touching me is enough to make my hips jerk in response.
“I want you. Is this okay? Do you want this too?”
“Yes,” I groan. “More than anything.”
Her mouth closes around the head of my cock and I nearly faint. I tangle my fingers in her damp hair, thrusting forward and filling her hot mouth with more of me. She moans, her eyes rolling back slightly.
Her mouth is hot and slick. I hit the back of her throat, then ease back as she makes a choking sound. She shakes her head with a moan, her fingernails digging into my ass cheeks.
What does she want? I pull back, in awe as spit drips down her chin. “Fuck my face,” she says. “Hard. Rough.”
I don’t want to hurt her—
“Sylvan. If I want you to stop, I’ll tap your leg three times. Now, fuck my face.”
“So demanding,” I muster, although I sound like I’m in fucking heat.
And goddess, maybe I am. She has me feeling like a damn omega. I thrust my cock forward, filling her mouth again in one stroke. My hands grip her hair, holding her head in place as I start to fuck her. My cock hits the back of her throat again, but she moans around it.
We’re making a mess. I can smell her arousal over the scent of body wash and blood. She’s wet for me, and not because of the shower.
“Fuck,” I whimper. “What are you doing to me, witch?”
She laughs around my cock as she takes it deeper, cupping my balls and gently squeezing them. I bite out a curse, driving faster and harder until I feel her nails rake down my thighs. There are tears in her eyes, but she’s not tapping me.
“Fuck, Morgan,” I groan. My voice echoes off the tiles in the shower, my panting growing ragged. She moans around my cock and I’m so close. I should be fucking her, but every movement hurts. I still want to taste her though. Fuck—
She does this thing with her tongue. I think it’s magic because everything in me short-circuits, and with another jerk, I come so hard I see stars. I moan as she tightens her lips around the head of my cock, swallowing every drop. Every single drop.
Morgan lets out a soft hum and presses a kiss against my hip. I pull her to her feet and then wince.
“Oh. We need to get you bandaged,” she says, eyeing my chest. “You need to be in—”
I almost crush my mouth against hers, but she pushes me back. I want to taste my cum on her tongue. I like that it’s there. The only place I’d like it more is inside her.
I lean my forehead against hers as her eyes flutter closed.
“I want to taste you,” I whine.
“No kissing. You’re bleeding. And you keep wavering. You should be in bed.”
“In your bed.”
“No.”
She flips off the shower and grabs two fluffy towels, bundling both of us. I pull her against me again, kissing the top of her head.
“You’ve lost your mind,” she mumbles.
“Probably.”
It takes a few minutes until we’re dry enough, but finally, we sit on my bed together. She wraps the bandages around my chest, careful with them. I hold my arms out, watching her every movement.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“For what?”
“Taking care of me.”
Morgan’s hands still, and then she sighs. “It’s the least I can do. Do you . . . do you think they’ll come back?”
“Yes.” I rest my hand on her knee, giving her a gentle squeeze.
There’s so much between us that we should talk about.
Like the fucking basement. Why is she so scared of it?
The three creatures that attacked and what they could possibly be.
The book I haven’t been reading over the last couple weeks.
“I think they will. But we’ll be ready for them. I’ll be ready for them.”
“I still think we should go out into the forest. But when it’s bright out. I can take a wooden spoon as a weapon.”
I snort. “Hardly a weapon.”
“Well, my grandmother certainly wielded it well.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. “I hate the things she did to you. If she were still alive . . .”
“Thankfully, she’s not.” Morgan smiles.
Every day, I despise Maeve more.
“Sleep. Rest.”
She starts to get up, but I catch her hand in mine. “Don’t leave.”
Morgan lingers, but then gently tugs her hand free. Her eyes soften with disappointment. She sweeps her blue hair back over her shoulders. “I have to.”
My throat burns, but I nod. She’s being the smarter of the two of us right now. Apparently all my self-control has gone out the window. Maybe that’s what blood loss and coming so hard does to my head.
The door creaks as she leaves the room. I turn off the bedroom lamps and stare into the darkness until my eyes burn.
Tomorrow, I’m throwing away all our wooden spoons and buying new ones.