Chapter 12 #2
“Stay still,” he growls, and the command drives straight through me. He leans in, his breath hot on my ear. “You know how much I want this?”
I nod, even though it’s rhetorical. How much he wants it is pressed hard and insistent against my thigh. He nips my earlobe, and I gasp, then trails kisses down my neck.
Slick and cool, his fingers press against me, and I gasp at the intrusion, my body tensing for a moment before remembering the rhythm of us. Not slow, not gentle—he knows I don’t want that.
Not now. Not with the scent of Jess still clinging to his skin, mixing with the rain and sandalwood that is uniquely Rowan.
“More,” I demand, my voice hoarse with lust.
He gives it.
Against me, the press of his cock sends a shiver up my spine. He pauses, waiting for me to nod, to confirm what he already knows. I want this…him. Always.
I push back against him, my body trembling.
Slowly, he sinks in, filling me completely, pain and pleasure both. My breath hitches.
When he thrusts, it’s deliberate, testing. The groan that rips out of me isn’t. Clutching the desk, I ground myself in the roughness that we both crave.
“Fuck, Eli,” he rasps, mouth at my ear.
“Yes! Oh…” Any more words fail as he thrusts deeper into my ass. Taller and bigger than me, he reaches his hand around to my cock and squeezes.
His hand tightens around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and I’m reduced to moans and gasps, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.
It’s overwhelming—the stretch, the heat—and I go under willingly.
His scent envelopes me, becomes a storm of rain and sandalwood that blocks out everything else.
He bites down harder on my shoulder and the sharp sting sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. Shaking, my body goes taut like a wire ready to snap.
Deep inside me, each thrust hits that spot, the one that makes my toes curl and my breath catch. He knows exactly what he’s doing, playing my body like an instrument he’s mastered.
“Rowan,” I manage to gasp out, his name a cry on my lips.
Understanding, he squeezes me harder, hand moving up and down my cock.
“Come for me, Eli,” he growls.
His hand matches his hips; everything narrows—wood under my palms, his breath at my ear. The pressure spikes, clean and ruthless.
Rowan’s grip tightens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. Desperation rides his pace. The room fills with the sound of us and the scent of sex, sweat, and something deeper, more primal fills us.
My fingers dig into the desk as I try to hold on to something, anything, that will keep me grounded.
But it’s useless. In the storm that is Rowan, I’m lost, in the feel of his body claiming mine, in the relentless pace he sets.
Hot on my neck, his breath comes heavy, his teeth grazing my skin, and every touch has me panting.
His hand strokes me over and over, and the pressure building, the tightening in my gut that tells me I’m close.
“R-Rowan,” I gasp again, my voice ragged. Begging, pleading for release.
In response, he growls, a deep, primal sound that vibrates through me, pushing me even closer to the brink.
Quickening his pace grows harder, more insistent. Beneath us, the desk creaks. Convulsing, my body gives in, the orgasm ripping through me with an intensity that leaves me breathless. In his hand, I come undone, my release hot and pulsing.
He growls as he finishes, grip biting my hip; a few ragged breaths shudder against my ear.
We stay like that, locked together, panting and spent. My heart hammers, my body aching in that sweet, thoroughly used way that only Rowan can deliver.
Then he leans against my back, his breath hot and ragged, as he comes down from his own high.
Gently, he pulls out, and I wince slightly at the loss, the cool air of the room rushing in to fill the void. He smooths a hand down my back, his touch soft, almost reverent.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly in my ear.
I nod, a lazy smile spreading across my face. “More than okay.”
With a chuckle, he slowly pulls back, giving me space.
I push up from the desk and turn, leaning back against it. My breath still ragged.
There’s a softness in his eyes that he rarely shows to anyone but me. It’s a look that makes my chest tighten, a reminder of the bond we share that goes beyond just physical need.
“You know, sometimes I think this is the only thing that keeps us sane,” I say.
His lips quirk and he reaches out to trace a thumb down my cheek. “Sane might be a stretch, but it helps.”
I lean into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment, just enjoying the gentleness of it. When I open them again, Rowan places a soft kiss over my lips.
“Let’s go tell Cassian what happened before he figures it out himself. Together we can figure out what the hell to do next.”
We dress and Rowan tucks his shirt into his slacks. The sight of him like this, casual, almost domestic, flutters in my chest. It’s a stark contrast to the primal energy that was coursing between us just moments ago.
At the door, I hesitate. “Rowan… if she starts to slip into pre-heat, we need to know. You know how Nexus handles cases like this. We can’t let that happen.” They could either place her in another pack or have her stay here forever and hate us. Especially if she’s going into heat soon.
Toward me, his eyes flick. “You think that’s what this is?”
“I think the timing’s bad. The way she looked—flushed, unfocused—it’s close. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe days.”
His throat works, but he doesn’t answer.
“Keep your distance,” I add. “Let me handle the monitoring.”
“You think I’m the one she needs protection from.”
“I think you’re the one she’ll run to if she doesn’t know better.”
He huffs out a breath that’s half laugh, half surrender. “You always did have a way with words.”
“Yeah,” I say, hand on the doorknob. “And you always have a way of ignoring them.”
The hallway’s empty. No sign of Cassian and Jess’s door is closed, lights off. For a second, I stop there, listening—no movement, no sound but the low hum of the house.
It should feel peaceful, but it doesn’t.
Something’s shifting under our feet, slow but certain.
I’m supposed to help keep this pack balanced, but the first crack is forming down the middle.
Rowan thinks he can fight it. Jess thinks she can outrun it.
They’re both wrong.
Because biology doesn’t ask permission. And when it comes for them, it’s going to take all of us with it.