22. Keith
KEITH
ON THE SAME PAGE
All thoughts of soreness and aching bones fled from my mind as I set Olivia down on my bed, my eyes roving over her like I was afraid she would disappear. Not exactly an invalid fear considering she’d almost done that, but I understood why.
“You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” I whispered, utterly in awe of her. I couldn’t believe that I had come so close to losing her. Never in a million years did I think I would owe my happiness to watching monster movies a few weeks ago during a rare bout of insomnia.
It wasn’t exactly a usual thing to pull a werewolf card during a breakup, but I’d started having suspicions right before I proposed.
The unusual strength, her absence during every full moon.
Occasionally growling in her sleep, and on the rare instance of her having a nightmare, sometimes she would wake up with a jolt and her canines looked a whole lot bigger.
But it was really upon meeting her family that things started to line up more.
The complete lack of silver. Her insisting on needing to whisper so no one could hear us even when we were well out of hearing range of any humans.
Also, her mother hadn’t used potholders when picking up the cast iron, even though I could feel how hot it was when she placed it on a placemat in front of me.
Of course, I’d ignored all those signs, as well as the ones I had told Olivia, because everyone and their mother knew that werewolves didn’t exist, and I’d thought I was going off the deep end. I’d chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters and an overactive imagination.
But once I was in that hole, looking up at a bunch of tipsy young men who had been drinking super intense alcohol that was too strong for me, everything clicked into place all at once.
And maybe it was a logical leap to blurt that out while my fiancée was trying to end our engagement, but when she was talking about being from two different worlds and that there being things I didn’t know, it was the only thing that really made sense.
“I love you,” she whispered almost reverently, tears welling in those enchantingly amber eyes. I wondered if her werewolf form had them as well, or if they shifted to a more golden hue, as I swore her eyes did sometimes when we were getting particularly feral in bed.
“And I love you,” I answered, beginning to kneel so I could see exactly how bright her eyes could get. “Always and forever.”
However, it was on my descent that I realized my miscalculation and nearly toppled to the side. Whoops. I’d forgotten I’d had a bad fall. Although my shin was bandaged, my whole leg was smarting, and that included my knee.
“I got you!” Olivia blurted, catching me and holding me steady.
Although I’d always known she was strong, suddenly I could feel the real iron in her grip, and I couldn’t help but muse on what would change between us now that she didn’t have to hide how mighty she could be.
Some men might be emasculated by the idea of their future wife being supernaturally stronger than them, but I found it really fucking hot.
“Not the sexiest I’ve ever been,” I admitted, feeling myself blush ever so slightly.
“That’s okay,” she said with a light chuckle, and it was the first time I’d heard her laugh since before everything had gone down at the engagement party.
It surged over me as a delicious respite, a rainbow promising that our fraught experience would not define our relationship.
It had happened, we’d talk through it, and we would take steps to make sure that it never happened again. “Let me take care of you for once.”
I opened my mouth to object, then realized I had no reason to. I nodded.
Olivia rose to stand with me, kissing me deeply as she guided me onto the bed.
Although the circumstances were much different, it reminded me of our first time together, when she’d ridden me until she shattered the bed frame.
Since then, I’d reinforced it multiple times before building a new one to accommodate our...
enthusiasm. And that reminder was enough to make me forget my chagrin at my failed suave move as Olivia slowly stripped in front of me.
There was no music, no flashing lights like there might be at a burlesque show or strip club, but none of that was needed. My fiancée was more than enough to capture my attention, and I watched her with rapt interest.
“God…” I breathed as she slipped the straps of her sundress off her shoulder, then moved to the side zipper. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and they allowed me to drink in everything about her.
She was a rhapsody in flesh, a symphony of beauty packaged in corporeal form.
From the swell of her breasts that I could never get enough of, to the softness of her tummy that I always wanted to squeeze, to the width of her thighs…
Everything about her was perfect. Her curls glistened in the moonlight streaming in through the small gap above the curtains in my windows, framing those rounded cheeks and cute, soft chin that I knew she didn’t like but I so adored.
One thousand ships may have been launched for Helen of Troy, and wars may have started and died upon Aphrodite’s altar, but none of them compared to the incredible and kind woman in front of me.
By the time she was completely bare in front of me, I couldn’t be patient any longer. I had to touch her. So I held my hands out, and she stepped into my reach, allowing me to explore her body with all the adoration, lust, and worship that I possessed.
Even after all this time, I was addicted to the softness of her.
Plush and like silk, my calloused fingertips able to sink into her in ways that drove me utterly wild.
We could spend a lifetime together, and indeed we would, yet I knew that sensation would be as alluring the ten thousandth time as it was the first.
“Olivia...” I murmured into the pillow of her stomach, my hands gripping the meat of her legs to press her even further into me. Her name was a full sentence, needing no other context or prose, and I hoped that she could hear the prayer within the four syllables.
“Keith,” she sighed, and even if I’d been told several times throughout my life that my own moniker wasn’t sexy, it was when she said it. A kiss in a sound, a song in one syllable. Perfectly imperfect just like us.
The choreography got a little lost on me as she helped me out of my clothes.
As much as I liked when we played a little rough, the sight of dried blood that stained the bottom of my injured leg didn’t exactly put me in the mood.
Olivia’s love bites on me? Yes, please. My hickeys and fingerprints on her even though they never seemed to stick around for more than an hour?
God, yes. My pants looking like I was an extra on a zombie movie set? Not so much.
I was already hard as a rock for her, my cock completely uncaring about the situation going on with my legs. Which was a good thing, because the half of my body that I’d landed on was most certainly starting to ache.
As much as I would love to watch my breathtaking fiancée riding me while putting her whole soul into it and I knew that my bed frame could now take it, I wasn’t sure my frame could.
But Olivia had already thought of that, because she took the near mountain of pillows from her side of the bed and stacked them behind me with a fierce determination.
“There,” she murmured, coming fully back into my sight. And what a sight she was. Olive-toned skin and dark hair, with all the curves I could desire. “You just sit back and relax.”
I didn’t think relaxation was exactly on the menu, but I let the muscles on either of my spine unclench.
The stack of cushions between me and the headboard was enough to take some of the weight of my own body off the action.
A moment later, Olivia was settling into my lap with far more grace than I’d ever had in my life, lining me up and sinking down in one smooth motion.
“Fuck!” I rasped. She always felt incredible, but I was used to having to warm her up at least a little.
While I wasn’t some comically long porn monster, I was still enough above average that we both preferred it if she came at least once before trying to put me inside.
“Are you okay? We’re not going too fast? ”
Instead of answering, she kissed me, and even though it was full of heat and teeth, it was also exactly right for the moment.
“I’m perfect,” she practically purred before sinking down those final couple of inches. “Need you so bad.”
My hands went to her soft waist, holding her there like she was my last lifeline. “Need you too.”
“Good.”
Neither of us were writing sonnets, but we didn’t need to, because she lifted her hips, rising nearly all the way off me before slamming back down again.
It was all too much. The feel of her breasts and her pebbled nipples sliding against me, those velvet walls of her pussy gripping me, the scent of her filling the air while her moans rang out like notes of an aria.
It was a storm of pleasure and bliss, and I couldn’t believe I got to have this for the rest of my life.
Time grew to have no meaning as she moved against me, and in the haze of it all, I felt a bit like a spoiled prince.
Not content to sit idle no matter how good it felt, I caressed her, traveling over all the spots she liked, and my mouth traded between ravishing her neck and worshipping her nipples.
The headboard banged against the wall, and I was so grateful I had a house, because if I lived in an apartment, my neighbors would have complained about the late-night percussion sessions.
It was wild and dizzying in its intensity, this celebration between the two of us. We’d faced something most couples never had to deal with it and had come out on the other side knowing more about each other.