Chapter 11 #3
A growl rumbled in Declan’s chest and he yanked her to his body, crushing her mouth with his.
Her tongue plunged past his lips immediately, mating with his in untamed strokes and flicks.
He met it with equal passion, sucking it into his mouth as he grabbed her ass, pulling her hips harder to his.
His cock—rigid and throbbing with desire so blistering hot he could barely breathe—ground against the smooth curve of her mons and she moaned, the raw sound tickling his lips and igniting his lust.
He tumbled backward onto the bed, taking her with him.
Her weight pressed upon him, light and hot, an intoxicating force he was now incapable of living without.
He raked his hands up her back, snaring the hem of her tank top as he did so, pulling it from her body.
Her breasts flattened to his chest, soft and full and exquisite, her pinched, rock-hard nipples rubbing against his.
“Christ, I want you so fucking much,” he growled against her lips, thrusting his hips upward, pushing his cock closer to her sex.
His lungs felt bereft of air, his blood on fire.
He dragged his hands around her rib cage, cupped the glorious swell of her breasts in each, rolling her nipples between his fingers.
She moaned, bending her knees up beside his body, spreading her legs wider, moving her sex up and down the length of his cock in slow strokes. “The feeling’s entirely mutual,” she answered, voice low and shallow.
She touched his chest, hands sliding over his skin, fingernails tracing little circles around his rock-hard nipples.
A sigh slipped past her lips, the sound intensely erotic in the silence of the room, the feel of her breath on his skin more so.
She dropped her head, flicked at his left nipple with the tip of her tongue.
He sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed her hips, holding her still as he moved his hips backward and forward, fucking her sex without penetration, his balls and cock swollen with molten desire.
“I should be petrified,” she whispered, rising slightly to gaze down at him.
“After…” Her eyes gleamed in the darkness and she dropped her head, her hair cascading forward, hiding her face.
She smoothed her hands over his chest, her right stopping over his heart, pressing to its pounding beat.
“But I know you’ll never hurt me.” She lifted her head again. “No matter what you are.”
Declan stared up at her, his blood thick. “Regan,” he breathed, wanting her to hear the tension in his voice. To hear his pain at her memory, as well as his desire for her touch. “I will never do anything but love you.”
She moved, rising up to her knees. For a moment he wondered what she was doing, and a stab of fear shot into his chest. Was she going away?
The sound of material rasping against skin made his pulse quicken.
His throat grew tight with relieved anticipation and he watched her remove her shorts, sliding them over her hips and down her thighs, shucking them free of her legs.
His stare fell to her exposed pussy and his breath caught. Oh, Sweet Mother of Jesus.
She straddled him again, gazing down into his face for a long moment, the darkness of the room shrouding her in shadows.
“Let me love you first,” she murmured as she repositioned herself, her limbs brushing against his hot flesh.
She turned around, slick skin against slick skin, presenting him the divine line of her spine.
He reached up, encountering the smooth, firm curve of her ass, the delicate angle of her hips before moving around to the flat plane of her stomach.
His heartbeat tripled. She was facing away from him on all fours, her body suspended above his.
“Regan,” he said again, hearing the tremble in his voice.
She dipped her head, something silky feathering over his bare hip and across his thigh.
He sucked in a ragged breath, realizing it was her hair.
Fingers played along his legs, traveling down and up their length in slowly delicious lines drawing closer and closer to his rigid shaft with each journey, tangling ever so briefly in the tight thatch of his pubic hair before beginning their trip anew.
And all this while, as her hands set fire to his blood, her hair tickled his burning flesh and her breath fanned his throbbing cock.
“Jesus, Regan. What are you doing to me?”
She didn’t answer. Not with words, at least. Her breath grew hotter on his cock, her fingers cupped his balls and her tongue flicked over the tiny slit at the end of his shaft.
Pure pleasure crashed through him. Intense and consuming. He arched beneath her, driving his head into the mattress, digging his fingers into the softness of her belly. “Oh, yes!”
Her tongue left his cock, replaced by a cool stream of air he knew blew gently past her lips. It sent ribbons of rapture through his body. Made his pulse quicken, his blood roar. Christ, he was drowning. Before he even touched her.
Touch her. Taste her.
He smoothed his hands over her hips, her ass, her skin like satin under his palms and dipped his fingers into her wet slit.
She gasped, sharp and shallow. The noise excited him and he delved deeper, wriggling one finger, another and another into the gripping slickness of her pussy.
She arched her back, pushing her sex onto his hand, her own fingers wrapping around his cock in a hold both harsh and exquisite, stroking and pumping up and down its length until his balls felt ready to burst.
He sucked in a steadying breath and the musky scent of Regan’s pleasure filled his nose. It was too much. He pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his tongue, flicking and teasing at the hot folds of her sex. Seeking the small nub of her clit.
She bucked against his mouth, fingers squeezing his cock. “Yes!”
He lapped at her, the taste of her cream on his tongue a sensation he could not comprehend.
There was power in it. Power and existence and intoxicating rapture.
He drove his tongue deeper into her sex, wanting to feel the centre of her heat.
Wanting to bring her to the pinnacle of desire with him. Where she should be.
Just when he thought he couldn’t wait any longer, that the pulsing strokes of her hand on his cock were going to push him over the edge, she took him into her mouth. Her tongue slid over its eager head, her lips wrapped around his solid length completely and she sucked.
He drove his head back into the mattress again, clenching at her hips as he bucked against her mouth. “Jesus Christ!”
She sucked at his cock, drew her mouth up and down, flicked at the sensitive web of skin just below its head with such savage need he cried out, sinking his nails into her flesh.
Her tongue wrapped around his turgid length before she plunged lower again, lips pressing to the swollen sac of his balls, fingers squeezing his ass cheeks.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
The words tumbled through his head, a fevered echo growing louder and louder with each sucking force Regan’s mouth bestowed on his cock.
He was going to come. He couldn’t stop it.
No more than he could stop loving the woman driving him rapidly to release.
He couldn’t stop it, but he could take her with him.
Wanted to take her with him. Wanted her to feel what he was feeling.
Wanted her to tumble over the precipice with him.
He raked his hands up the curve of Regan waist and over her rib cage, seeking out the heavy swell of her breasts, teasing her tight nipples with his fingers as he returned his lips and tongue to their lavish attention of her sex.
Flicking at her clit, drawing it into his mouth and biting on its tiny formation.
She pushed her sex harder to his face and moaned around his cock.
The soft vibrations on his shaft sent ripples of concentrated bliss into his balls, ass and spine.
Liquid heat erupted. He rammed his hips upward, thrusting deeper into Regan’s mouth, feeling like his life-force pumped through him, from him.
Rendering him utterly weak and totally invincible at once as it left him in explosive, surging spurts.
She took it all, swallowing his seed, feeding the scorching pleasure consuming him body and soul, her hands cupping and massaging his balls every time he bucked, her mouth milking him until he dropped back to the mattress, drained and slicked with sweat.
His breath burst past his lips in short, ragged pants and he closed his eyes, struggling to bring his heart under control. His wolf lingered below the surface, its heightened senses thrumming, its desire so powerful his cock continued to throb.
“Finish me, Declan,” Regan murmured against his groin. Her lips, moments ago having rendered him spent, began to explore his hips, the inner-flesh of his thigh, her tongue leaving a wicked, hot trail over his skin. “I’m so goddamn close…”
He felt himself stiffen, felt his still-turgid shaft spasm with eager want as Regan’s wet, masterful tongue investigated his testicles. His breath caught in his raw throat and his hands flattening against her ass, her waist.
“Regan,” he choked, stunned at how quickly she had returned him to the edge. Werewolf or no. “Regan, I want to be inside you. I need…”
She raised her head, the night air cool where her wet mouth had been. She moved, straddling his hips, her breasts brushing his face as she slid down his body, nudging the straining head of his cock with the moist lips of her pussy. “…to make me reel,” she finished, gazing into his face.
He nodded, nostrils flaring. “Yes.”
She planted her hands on either side of his torso, shifted her weight ever so slightly and impaled herself on his cock. He heard her sigh his name as he filled her, a moan in her voice. She gripped him with muscles that felt like hot fingers, and tangled her hands in his hair.
He sat up, holding her still with his arms, his own fingers burying into the cool strands of hair at her nape, arching her neck so his lips and teeth devoured the satiny-smooth skin.
“Declan,” she moaned his name again, wrapping her legs around his hips, her heels pressing against his ass cheeks, forcing him closer to her, deeper into her. “Don't stop.”
“Never,” he replied. How could he? He wouldn’t know he was alive if he didn’t feel her, smell her. Hold her.
Thrusting deeper, he captured her lips with his, fierce and hungry.
A sound escaped her—a whimper, a hitching of her breath telling him without words she was there, ready to fall and explode and implode.
“Yes, Declan. Yes!” she moaned. “Oh, God, YES!” Her fingers dragged across his shoulders and into his hair once more, holding his head still as her hips began to buck.
Wild. Erratic. Powerful. He felt the pulses rocking through her.
Clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing. Charging him with life.
It consumed him, surged through him. Erupted from him in a violent, liquid force, scalding him from head to toe and making him howl.
He collapsed backward, Regan coming with him, lying along his chest, her heart hammering against his, her ragged breath fanning his sweat-slicked skin.
Closing his eyes, he listened to her heartbeat slowly return to normal, letting his fingertips trace small, aimless patterns over her back. He felt utterly at peace. An emotional state he’d never experienced before.
“Don't stop,” she whispered against his chest, wriggling her shoulders under his caressing fingers.
“Never,” he replied.
“Good,” she murmured back, and he felt her smile.
They lay, limbs entwined, hearts beating in harmony, for many minutes, and as each one passed Declan felt more and more calm.
He gazed up at the black ceiling, listening to the sounds of nightlife beyond the room’s walls: people laughing, enjoying their existence.
He smiled, letting his hands skim down the delectable curve of Regan’s waist to her hip.
For the first time in his life, he understood what they felt.
His existence had purpose now beyond death, beyond vengeance. Because of Regan.
He let his eyelids flutter closed, opening his senses to her. Letting her fill him on every level.
“Declan?”
Her voice, soft and somehow hesitant, made him open his eyes and he tilted his head, looking down into her face. “Yes?”
“Are werewolves like other members of the canine genus?”
He frowned.
“Do you rut with any bitch that catches your attention, or do you…” She trailed off and he heard the uncertainty in her voice.
He gave her a slow grin. “For a such an expert at animal behavior, you’re lousy at the human kind.
” He ran his hand back up her body, drawing her closer to him, letting her look directly into his gaze.
“No,” he answered. “When it comes to mating, werewolves are just like people. Some fuck around, some find their lifemate and never let them go.”
She studied him intently, as though looking for—wanting—an answer she didn’t yet have. “Which type are you?” she whispered.
He let his grin turn into a smile, reaching up with his free hand to tuck an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. “The latter.”
She gazed into his face for a moment, body still, expression revealing nothing, before rising up onto an elbow. She lowered her head, her lips brushing his in the softest of kisses. “Me too.”
A chuckle rumbling up his throat, he wrapped his arms firmly around her body and flipped her to her back, catching her squeal of delighted shock with his mouth.
He loomed over her, snaring each wrist, pinning her to the mattress with his hips, thighs and hands.
He grinned at her, nestling his rapidly growing cock against the soft heat of her pussy.
“You doubted me?” he growled, the sound coming out more like a laugh.
Eyes twinkling with a devilish glint, she shook her head, rolling her hips under his. “A girl can’t be too careful. Especially one hopeless on human—”
An explosive bang shattered the air and the door flung open, flooding the room with bright, glaring light.
“Get off her, you bastard!”
Declan flung his head to the side, just in time to see a hulking great man storming through the door. A man with light green eyes and dark brown hair. A man with fury in his stare and a Glock nine millimeter in his hand.
“Peter!” Regan yelled, squirming in Declan’s hold. “Peter, it’s—”
“Get off her now!” The man bellowed. Aiming the gun straight at Declan’s head.