Eleven
Wyatt
Ihad no idea what came over me. cameron suggested stopping, and i just ...
I couldn’t stand the idea. He’d said he wanted me. He’d confessed to running five miles from Rocky Ridge because he wanted to get his dick wet so badly.
And now he was going to stop?
Like hell. He wasn’t the only horny one here. It had been ages since I’d gotten laid, and if Cam was interested, I wasn’t going to pass up the best opportunity I’d had in what felt like eons.
He laughed and lifted my shaking hands out of the way, unbuttoning his borrowed jeans. I inhaled sharply and lowered the zipper, then started yanking the denim down over his hips. He lifted his hips to help—no mean feat with me still straddling his legs.
I barely bit back a moan at the thought of riding him, feeling his thighs flexing under me …
God, I was hard up. I hardly felt like myself. I’d never been this desperate in my life, not even when I’d been fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, crashing headlong into puberty.
I felt like I was on fire. Despite what I’d said earlier about making him catch, I needed him in me. I was aching for it, my breath coming short with anticipation as I looked at his cock again.
I took my time, drinking in the sight of it—not the quick, bashful glance I’d taken when he first showed up on the porch. Even that had told me his cock was droolworthy—not too long, not too thick, but something that looked just right in every way, as though he’d been molded specifically for me.
I couldn’t wait to have him split me open. I could practically feel my hole fluttering with anticipation, my own cock jumping with excitement at the thought of getting him buried deep in me.
I fumbled with the buttons on my own jeans.
“Here,” Cam said gently, his hands nudging mine out of the way.
I cursed, hating that I was so gone with need.
I wasn’t being smooth or sexy at all, just desperate, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to think about being laughed at and called a desperate slut for being a bundle of nerves.
That had happened ages ago, a first-year hookup at a dorm party. I barely remembered the night. Didn’t even remember the guy’s face.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the soft sound of denim rustling, the zipper lowering. I opened my eyes again when Cam’s hands landed on my ass. “Lift up.”
I obeyed, and Cam continued shimmying the too-tight pants down my thighs.
It took another couple of awkward, fumbling moments before we were both mostly naked.
I swallowed, my brain trying desperately to catch up with my body. “Lube,” I announced. “I need—”
I froze when Cam traced a calloused finger down my crack, sliding between my cheeks, pressing it up against my hole.
My … slick, aching hole.
My stomach flip-flopped as he pushed one finger, then a second in smoothly.
“I don’t understand,” I managed. It had been ages, I should have needed prep—
“Wyatt,” Cam said lowly, “you’re in heat.”
He’d said that before. He could think I was an omega or whatever all he liked, but …
That didn’t mean it made sense. Or that it meant anything to me. Or that I knew what it meant.
I sure hadn’t thought it might mean I suddenly had a magical self-lubricating hole, but here we were.
I looked down into his amber eyes—the same keen gaze as I’d seen on the coyote the night Bobby Lam had shot him, now filled with honeyed warmth and something dangerously tender.
He didn’t break eye contact as he thrust his fingers deep into me. I wanted to be embarrassed by the squelching that accompanied him drawing back, but the noise went right to my cock, making it jump.
Fuck, I was horny. I bit my lip to hold back a groan.
“You ready?” His voice was a rasp of itself, and I shuddered.
“Yeah,” I replied, my own voice hoarse with the weight of desire.
Without another word, Cam pulled his fingers out of me. Before I could complain, he’d replaced them with the head of his cock, slowly breaching me. I inhaled through my nose, then let my head drop back, my eyes fluttering shut.
Never in my life had it felt so good to be penetrated—and I generally enjoyed bottoming. Someone had called me a twink, and well, they weren’t wrong.
“Fuck.” That was Cam, his voice a rough whisper, and his hands curled over my hips, fingers digging in. I swore I felt the prickle of claws. “Wyatt.”
My dick jumped again, hearing him say my name like that. Reverent. Ecstatic. Like I was the best damn thing he’d ever had. Like I was the only thing in his whole damn world.
He pushed deep into me, one long, slow stroke. “Yes,” I hissed, digging my own nails into the skin of his belly.
I caught his amber gaze again. “God, Wyatt,” he started, and I gritted my teeth and rocked on him, which forced him to stop speaking, his eyes going wide and his mouth forming an o.
I leaned down, tangling one hand in his sandy blond locks, twisting. “Shut up and fuck me, Cameron.”
For a couple of seconds, he was stock-still, shock etched on his face. Then his expression melted into something wicked, and he grinned up at me, eyes flashing mischief. “You asked for it,” he growled, gripping my hips as he lifted up.
How exactly he flipped us over, I don’t know, but he managed it, dropping me back to the floor, my legs wide.
He drove in again a second later, slamming into me with the same force, then drawing back, only so he could thrust in again.
He picked up steam, pistoning his hips back and forth, building speed with every stroke, until there was a steady, punishing rhythm, him driving into me, thumping me against the floor, me trying to follow whenever he drew back.
He scrabbled at me with his hands, and I imagined I could feel his claws pricking my skin.
I wrapped myself around him, clamping my legs around his waist, trying to draw him deeper, desperate to reach the ache in my middle.
I dragged my nails down his back, tipping my head back as I cried out—what, I didn’t know.
It might have been his name, especially when he slammed into my prostate.
I arched up against him, panting, cock drooling precum all over my belly.
Flesh smacked into flesh, and I groaned, imagining cuts and bruises tomorrow, my skin bearing the marks of his claim.
Claim? Some distant, hazy part of me scoffed at the idea, but I shuddered anyway. Right here and now, I wanted him to own me. I wanted to be his, in every sense of the word.
I slid trembling hands through his hair, letting my fingers catch on unruly tangles, tugging gently.
He leaned forward, pressing his nose to my neck. My eyes shot open, and I stared at the ceiling. I clutched harder at his hair, my breath coming ragged as he nosed at my jugular.
Fear, anticipation, desire—something—unfurled in my belly, hot enough to burn, and I bucked with it, suddenly wild. Those teeth—fangs—and he could—
“Oh, fuck,” I croaked, just before I spilled between us, screwing my eyes shut. “Cam, I want—I want you to—”
I couldn’t quite get out the word bite, but he nipped at my neck, and I groaned, turning my head to the side, still shuddering with the aftershocks of release.
Cam was panting, “Fuck, fuck,” softly beside my ear, and my insides twisted with red-hot need, despite the fact I’d just come.
What the fuck.
Cam, if he noticed, didn’t seem to care that I’d blown my load and was still hard. After a couple more thrusts, I didn’t care either—the only thing I had capacity to care about was how good it felt, pleasure rippling through me, right down to my now-curled toes.
Cam was still hammering away, a man on a mission. I writhed and yelled under him, the pleasure coiling around into pain. When I glanced up, his eyes were glazed, pupils blown; I wasn’t sure he was seeing anything in the room any longer.
Hesitantly, I touched a hand to his face. “Are you close?” I managed, my voice ragged.
He shook his head minutely. I frowned, ready to protest—I was gonna have to ask him to pull out, because it was really getting to be too much for me.
“Knot,” he choked out, and I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant.
Then I let it fall open even more as he slammed into me, deeper than before, and I felt something even wider than his cock stretching me open.
I caught his gaze again. “Shifter,” he exhaled. “Coyote.”
I wanted to ask him what the hell that was supposed to mean—I knew he was a coyote shifter; I’d literally watched him shift. He must have seen the question on my face, because he grunted, “Dogs, Wyatt.”
And it clicked. “Oh” was all I could manage as I realized what he was talking about.
I was a vet. I’d seen plenty of dog dicks, in various states. I’d learned all about how male dogs tied together with female dogs—a process called knotting.
Wolves did it. So did coyotes.
And so did Cam, apparently.
“Fuck,” I managed, gritting my teeth as he pushed deeper. How much more was there?
He cried out, suddenly, then dropped his head to rest against my shoulder. “Fuck,” he breathed, “Wyatt, you’re so tight.”
Part of me wanted to complain that was because he’d jammed what felt like a tennis ball up my ass, but I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe around what felt like my body literally splitting in two.
Cam grunted as he tried to pull back, then whimpered with me as it became apparent he was stuck. He was lodged in there until his cock deflated—he’d successfully knotted me.
Something fluttered to life in my belly, and I almost laughed.
Cam glanced up at me, concern in his eyes now. “Are you okay?” He sounded almost horrified. “Fuck, Wyatt, I’m sorry, I should have asked—”
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “It doesn’t … feel bad?” I frowned. That was a kind of lie. It hurt. But I … liked it?
God, my head hurt, trying to sort out all this new information.
I needed to sleep on it. Think about it all tomorrow.
I was sure everything would be clearer in the morning.
Studying had always felt like that. There was so much being crammed into my brain, I couldn’t possibly remember it all.
I’d go to bed in a haze, feeling like I hadn’t retained a damn thing, then wake up and realize I already knew everything, backwards and forwards.
“How long do you think it’s gonna take for …” I gestured vaguely toward our bottom halves.
Cam bit his lip. He looked sheepish. “I … uh. Don’t really know.”
“Never knotted anyone before?” Part of me was flattered.
“I, uh. Haven’t come yet.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit dumbfounded. I glanced down. “Well. It’ll go down eventually, right?”
Cam made a noise, but it didn’t sound like a yes. I looked up at him, and he grimaced. “It, uh … it’s not supposed to.”
I frowned at him. “It’s a shifter thing,” he said with exasperation. “Alphas are supposed to, uh … serve omegas in heat, and …”
He gestured vaguely with one hand, then winced.
I stared at him for a minute. Then I said, “So you stay hard until you come?”
He nodded. I felt my frown growing by the second. “And … you don’t come until …?”
“Until we knot the omega,” he said.
I glanced down again. “Well,” I said slowly, “you’ve knotted me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So now you just gotta … come.”
He made a face. “Don’t see how. I’m stuck. Can’t really move.”
I considered him for a second or two longer. Then I took a breath, and, concentrating, contracted around him.
His eyes went wide. “I can move,” I said, squeezing him tighter, then rolling my hips.
“Ah,” he said.
I squeezed him again, and he bit his lip. I rolled my hips again and watched his eyes flutter shut, and I realized I had all the power here. I was going to make him come.
“Jerk me off,” I commanded, feeling heat steal into my cheeks as I said it.
Cam wrapped a hand around me, his grip mirroring what I was doing to his cock with my ass.
I rocked my hips up again. He picked up my rhythm, and we moved together, slow at first, then faster and faster as we approached the finish line.
“Look at me,” I demanded, and those amber eyes snapped open, apparently surprised—by the command or the fact they’d been closed, I didn’t know.
“Oh,” Cam managed, then let his mouth fall open on a silent cry as I squeezed him as tight as I could.
Warmth flooded into me; his hips stuttered like he wanted to drive home, and that was what did me in, that tiny movement and the accompanying stretch.
I arched up as I climaxed a second time, and somewhere above me, Cam howled.
We collapsed into a sticky heap, both of us panting.
I tried to ask him again how long it would be before we could separate, but my lids were heavy, and before I knew it, I was asleep.