13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

N atalie

I perform an emotion check, head to toe, to figure out exactly what I'm feeling, but it's a swirl of confusion. Fear, that's in the mix. Interest, yeah, I'm definitely intrigued. But more than anything else, my affection for this male, this wolven, this Other is bombarding me.

"So why are your pants still on?" I'm nothing if not direct.

He scrambles backward, off the bed, rips off his pants and briefs, then stands still as a statue, giving me an opportunity for a good look—from a distance.

It's a magnificent cock, rising tall and proud and thick. It's dark, more tanned than his skin, and it sprouts from a nest of thick hair matching the almost-white hair on his head. At the base of the shaft is his knot, a good name for the thick ball of what looks like muscle. Since we won't be mating, I'm not going to worry about that, because it looks far too big to fit inside me. What draws my attention is the pearly bead of pre-cum nestled in his slit.

"First, I want to taste you, wolven. I want to lap you up, just like you did me. Then we'll see just how well we fit together, see how good it's going to feel when you fill me up. "

Who is this Natalie with the loud, keening orgasmic wails and the sultry bedroom eyes and the naughty come-fuck-me words? I don't know where she came from, but by the look on Fury's sex-crazed face, it's clear he likes her—a lot.

He dives back on the bed, straddling my hips. Instead of letting me suck him, or sliding right into me, though, he gently grips my cheeks in his palms, holds my gaze in his, and whispers, "Natalie Marsh."

The two meager words seem profound somehow. Perhaps it's because it's as though he's looking into my soul. There's a lightning strike in the vicinity of my heart, setting me ablaze from my chest to my extremities, amping up my affection for this beautiful, complicated male.

It's only when I smile at him, and honor him as he did me, by saying his name, "Fury the Wolven," that he nods, gives my lips the sweetest brush of a kiss, and then leans closer, placing his cock at my entrance.

"Can I get a raincheck on your offer to taste me, Buttercup? I can't wait to glove myself in your wet heat."

My response is a simple nod because I'm speechless at his poetic offer.

He slides along my folds, the tip of his cock bumping my clit on every pass as he ensures he's slick enough to enter me. When he stops, poised at my entrance, our gazes lock and he presses into me in little pulses.

"Tally." My name now sounds different in his mouth, perhaps because he's deeper in his primitive headspace, his fangs more exposed.

He rides me, filling me so full I have to rearrange my legs to accommodate him. His girth almost burns, but it feels amazing, as though he's claiming me, owning me.

Finally, with the soles of my feet on the back of his muscular thighs, we fit together perfectly. It's more than sex. It's like communion as we move together. No longer two separate people, it feels as though we're one being.

When he changes his angle, though, the poignant emotional connection is replaced by my ramping need. He grinds against my clit with every thrust, amping me up, taking me higher.

He's feeling it, too, his eyes like molten silver, flashing in the light.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I hang on tight, riding with him as all my inhibitions fade away and I'm just a body, a body moving on impulse to capture the most intense pleasure.

He's pounding me now, his ears perked forward, tail lashing side to side, brushing my thighs on every twitch, and the noises escaping his mouth are more animal than human—almost feral.

Punctuating each thrust with a grunt, he pushes me higher with every plunge. My world narrows to the patch between my legs, my clit, my channel as he slides in, pauses, and retreats.

My lids had slammed closed a moment ago as my bliss spiraled higher, but I open them to find his silver gaze on me as I come with a grunt of wild passion. I clench around his thick, veined shaft, spasming, and see the moment he lets go, following me over the edge into his own ecstasy.

His cum is hot inside me, bathing me, marking me as he howls his pleasure. It's long and loud, rising and falling until it ends with a triumphant yip.

And just like that, the mood changes, and this ferocious, gruff wolven throws his head back and laughs in a way I doubt he's done in years.

He slumps to his side, pulling me with him. We're still connected as he slides his claws through my hair, scratching my scalp. His gaze is full of affection as he nips my cheeks, nudges me with his nose, and gives me dozens of loud, smacking little kisses.

Shaddai gives a belated answering howl to his adoptive daddy, startling us both as he bounds onto the bed .

"I'm so glad he didn't do that a moment ago." I chuckle. "It would have made me laugh at exactly the wrong moment."

And here we are. We've made love and exchanged kisses and affection. And perhaps better than my spectacular orgasm is the laughter we've shared. I think it's healing for both of us.