14. Wisteria

Ifeel like I'm in some sort of dream as we start to walk back up the path to the lodge.

Thankfully, Eli keeps a slow-ish pace, shortening his long stride for me. My knees feel weak, my muscles soft and trembly, and even the slight incline of the path back up to the main trail feels daunting at the moment.

I have no idea what came over me. Or rather–I do…this insane attraction to a man who makes me say and think and do things that I would never have imagined doing before. My cheeks burn as I hang back a little, trying to wipe away my embarrassment at the realization that I let him eat me out in broad daylight, out in the open where anyone could have seen. The few times a man has done that before, I've always had all the lights out. The idea of anyone looking at me clearly down there, let alone doing it in a semi-public place, was too much for me to fathom. In the bright sunlight no less, where he could see every inch of me–parts of me that I don't think anyone has ever seen so clearly before. And the sight only seemed to turn him on even more.

Eli looked at me like I was something to devour. Like he couldn't wait to taste me. Like he wanted more, even as I came all over his face–oh god.

I remember the way his lips glistened when he pulled away, the scruff on his cheeks and chin damp, and my face burns hot all over again. The way he looked at me, his gaze fixed between my thighs.

The way he licked his lips, as if he couldn't get enough of my taste. Like he wanted to do it all over again…and again.

It's not just that, either. Our conversation before that–things came out of my mouth that I wouldn't have imagined myself asking. I'm not a flirt, not someone who asks blunt questions or pries. I've always been shy and timid with dates, not wanting to push for too much information too soon, whereas they always dragged everything out of me within minutes–usually resulting in there being no second date. Eli didn't pry with me. But I asked him questions too intimate for what was supposed to be nothing more than a prelude to a hookup.

An awfully romantic prelude.For today being not-a-date, it was the most romantic thing anyone has ever set up for me. The lake, the drinks, the picnic food–he might have meant it casually, but it was impossibly sweet to me. No one has ever done anything like that for me before, and it feels more than a little ironic that the first time I've experienced anything that romantic is with someone who has made it plain that this is entirely casual.

Worse still, I like him. I like his laid-back attitude, his way of looking at the world. He seems exciting and adventurous, someone who sees the world around him as a never-ending horizon for him to explore–but also someone who isn't entirely without a moral compass, despite the fact that I can tell he's a rough-living sort of man. He was careful with me, earlier, wanting to make sure that I didn't need to be drunk to hook up with him. He's been careful not to take advantage of me, not to press the attraction between us when I've said no. He let me be the instigator of it all, even when it's been plain to see–and never so much before as earlier on that blanket–that he wants me as much as I want him.

Despite how quickly the afternoon cools off as it stretches into twilight, I can feel a sheen of sweat on the back of my neck and beneath my clothes by the time we reach the trailhead. I wonder if Eli would mind my taking a shower in his room before–and then I remember, with fresh heat climbing up my neck, how he hadn't cared that I was sweaty when he'd dragged my leggings down and made me come with his mouth.

Does he like it more? Because he's a shifter?I feel my blush deepen at the thought of how intensely he must be able to smell everything about me, but at the same time, my curiosity is piqued. It's something I would ask him if I knew him better, if this were going to be something real–and if I didn't mind the idea of him asking me personal questions about myself. But if I let him know that I know he's a shifter–if I start asking him personal questions about himself–it opens the door for him to do the same. And I feel more certain than ever that I don't want him to know.

If it's only going to be a one-time thing, then it doesn't matter if he knows I'm a witch. And I can't stand the thought of him going cold before we've finished what we started. I don't want to see the look on his face when he realizes, to feel that sting of rejection. I'd had such grand plans about only being myself now that I live in Bayton, but it's easier said than done.

So much easier in theory than in reality.

"Well, here we are," Eli says wryly as we walk up to the front porch of the lodge, jolting me out of my wandering thoughts. "Home sweet home."

The lodge is charming and rustic on the outside, a large log building with a wrap-around porch anda gabled roof. When we walk in, I'm immediately greeted with the scent of warm food and a crackling fire–the first floor of the lodge itself is an open floor plan, with the dining area to the right and boasting a massive fireplace on the far wall. A stag's head hangs above it, candles on th mantlepiece, unlit for now. The reception desk is just ahead of us, and to the left is a smaller fireplace with a cozy sitting area that features a couch and several comfortable-looking chairs. A wooden staircase leads up to the second and third floors, where I assume the guest rooms are.

A shiver of excitement licks down my spine, nervous anticipation filling me. There's no pretending that we're here for any reason other than what this is–in a few minutes, I'm going to follow Eli up those stairs, and then–

It's not even fully dark out yet. It feels vaguely wicked to be going upstairs with him in the early twilight, indulgent, with the intention of spending the hours yet to come tangled up together in bed.

Stop romanticizing it,I tell myself firmly. For all I know, we'll fuck for a half hour and then he'll want me to leave. There's no reason to think he wants this to be an all-night sort of thing.

But the intensity I saw in his gaze earlier says otherwise.

Eli glances at me, as if looking for signs of hesitation. "Rooms are this way," he says quietly, nodding towards the staircase. The girl behind the reception desk–a short, curvy blonde with her curly hair pulled back at the front–looks up at the sound of his deep, drawling voice, and I see her flush slightly. Her gaze slides over him quickly, surreptitiously, as if she's afraid of him catching her, and then she quickly glances back down at her paperwork, her fingers tapping nervously on the desk in front of her.

"Okay," I murmur, feeling an odd flush of victory that for tonight, he's mine. That this man, who is so obviously desirable, wants me. It's not a feeling that I'm at all familiar with.

Eli leads me up the stairs, pulling an old-fashioned brass key out of his pocket when he stops in front of a door on the second floor. "They really commit to the aesthetic here," he says with a lopsided grin, holding up the key before sliding it into the lock and opening the door.

The butterflies in my stomach take off in a cloud, my knees feeling slightly weak as I follow Eli into the room. It's simple enough–a queen-sized bed with a rustic wooden frame, made up with a dark blue quilt and several soft-looking pillows. The rest of the standard furniture is the same rustic, burled wood, and there's a soft-looking, if slightly worn chair sitting next to the large window that overlooks the forest. The heavy blue curtains are drawn back, letting the late afternoon light spill over the worn wooden floor, and I see a blanket similar to the one Eli brought with him thrown over the back of the chair. The only thing that makes the room feel even slightly modern is the television on the dresser.

Eli closes the door behind him, setting the key on the dresser. He lets the backpack slide to the floor, and suddenly my heartbeat is galloping in my chest, my blood roaring in my ears. He's the most gorgeous man I've ever seen, and he's here, in this room, with me. We're about to–I can't even finish the thought in my head, my face flushing. I stare at him, suddenly entirely frozen, like a deer in headlights.

Like prey.

It turns him on. Maybe he doesn't mean for it to–it seems like something instinctual, something I wouldn't have picked up on if I didn't know he was a shifter. He rocks on his feet, his hands rubbing over the sides of his jeans as if to scratch an itch–or hold something at bay. I could swear I see his blue-grey eyes flash silver in the dim light, and something almost feral cross his face.

I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. If he can hear the blood rushing in my veins. If he wishes we were in the woods instead, so I could run, and he could chase me down.

The thought sends such a powerful, unexpected wave of arousal through me that a tiny whimper escapes my lips, and Eli's face darkens with a lust that I've never seen before.

He crosses the space between us in two strides, one hand on my waist and the other cupping the back of my head as he pulls me to him. His mouth crushes against mine, hard, not the gentle-yet-eager kiss of earlier but something more ferocious. I feel his teeth graze over my lower lip, his tongue pushing into my mouth, and I can still taste whiskey and honey on his lips.

My hands press against his chest, fingers curling into the open neck of his shirt, pulling him closer. I hear the soft, mewing sound that slips between his mouth and mine, a whimper of need that isn't a sound I've ever heard myself make before.

His hips rock against mine, the urgent hand on my waist pulling me closer, and I can feel that he's hard. Hard, and impossibly thick, the massive ridge of his cock digging into my thigh as he growls low in his throat and heat explodes through my veins. My knees go weak, and I sink into him, my hands sliding up to cling to his shoulders as he kisses me more thoroughly than any man ever has.

I'm going to be ruined after this,I think dimly as his tongue sweeps through my mouth, his moan vibrating against my lips, his hands sliding up to tug at my shirt. Nothing will ever feel this good again.

It should frighten me. It should make me want to run. But instead, it keeps me here, pressed against Eli–because even if I'm only ever going to experience this once, I want to know what it feels like. I want to know what all of it feels like.

When his hands slide under my shirt, fingers skating over the smooth skin, I break the kiss.

"Should I shower first?" I glance at the door to my left, assuming the bathroom is behind it. "Before we–"

A low growl slides up from Eli's throat, and his hand tightens on my hip and the back of my neck, his body urging mine back towards the bed. "I like your scent," he murmurs. His head dips, his nose running up the side of my neck as he breathes in, and I feel his cock throb against my thigh. My knees go weak, and my blood feels as if it's on fire. As if at any moment, I might combust. As if the next touch, the next kiss, will make me come apart.

It's how I felt that first night at the bar, how I felt in my room when I heard the howls of the shifters, but magnified even more. I've never felt anything like it, and I'm both terrified–and never want it to stop.

"I want to devour you," he whispers, his nose dragging down to the hollow of my throat, his tongue flicking out to lick the salty skin there. A trail of liquid heat follows the path of his tongue, down between my breasts as he laps at my skin, his hands tugging my shirt up. A shiver runs down my spine at the word devour.

I think of him in the woods, not a man but a beast, all sharp teeth and keen senses and tearing claws. I think of him feral, wild, a creature focused on blood and violence, and it doesn't make me want to run.

It makes me want the man in front of me more. Later, I tell myself as Eli drags my shirt up over my head, I'll try to figure out what that says about me. But right now–

Right now I don't fucking care.

Eli tosses my shirt onto the floor, his tongue delving between my breasts again. He tugs at the tight band of my sports bra, pulling it upwards, and I hear him groan as my breasts spill out, heavy against my chest as he tosses the second garment away. His hands cup the sides of the soft flesh, pushing them inwards, his beard scraping over the sensitive skin as my fingers tangle in his hair and I let out a gasping moan.

He rubs his face over my breasts, the scruff on his face rasping over my nipple, his mouth turning to catch the stiffening peak between his lips and soothe away the abrasion with his tongue. My knees go weak, buckling at the sensation as he sucks my nipple into his mouth, and Eli turns me deftly, the backs of my legs suddenly against the mattress as he sinks to his knees.

"I want you to come on my mouth again," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waist of my leggings and pulling them down in one swift movement. Just like that, I'm bared to him, every inch of my skin on display–and he hasn't even taken his boots off yet. He looks up at me, his large hands on my thighs, and this time I'm sure I see his grey-blue eyes gleam silver in the dimming light.

He leans forward, pressing his mouth between my legs as his tongue delves between my folds hungrily. There's nothing slow or soft about it–his lips press tightly against my naked pussy, his tongue sliding hotly up to my clit, swirling in an eager pattern meant to drive me over the edge fast and hard. He eats me like a starving man, lips sucking at my swollen folds, tongue lashing over my clit, his hands hard on my thighs as he groans with a sound that vibrates over my sensitive skin.

"I'm–oh god, Eli, I–"

"That's it," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look up at me as he flutters his tongue over my clit. "Come for me, Wisteria. Come all over my fucking face."

His mouth crushes against me again, his tongue relentless, and my fingers curl into his soft dark hair as my hips arch against his mouth. The pleasure overwhelms me, making me shameless, making me rock against his tongue as he drives me closer and closer to the edge, my knees on the verge of buckling. He looks up at me once more, those eyes gleaming metallic grey, and I feel a surge of overwhelming sensation, curling up from my core and bursting out over me, through me, like fireworks. An explosion of pleasure that leaves me gasping, moaning, crying out his name as I ride his tongue to a shattering climax, my fingers digging into his scalp as Eli groans against me and licks me through the orgasm.

Dimly, I feel him lifting me, his hands gripping my ass as he moves me back onto the bed. I sink back against the pillows, my vision blurry, a steady throb pulsing between my legs as Eli rips his shirt over his head, one hand fumbling with his belt buckle. His chest is hard and muscular, covered in a pelt of dark hair, more tattoos inked over his pectorals and curving down his sides. A howling wolf is on one side of his chest, a half-moon on the other, and I stare at them as he slides onto the bed, pushing his jeans and boxers down his hips with one hand as he hovers above me.

My gaze slides down the length of his body, down to the sharp cuts of muscle at his abdomen and his taut hips, and I let out a soft gasp when I see his cock.

It's fucking huge. Long and hard, the tip grazing his firm abdomen just below his navel, thick enough that I'm not sure I could wrap my fingers all the way around him. The tip is weeping pre-cum, pearling and sliding down the throbbing, veiny shaft, and my eyes widen when my gaze slides all the way down his length and I see the swollen, taut flesh at the base.

"You keep lookin' at my cock like that, darlin', and I'm gonna come before I ever get inside of you."

His voice rasps thickly over my skin, like a touch in and of itself, and a shudder ripples through me. I can feel how wet I am, drenched with arousal, my inner thighs sticky with it. I'm trembling all over with anxious need, hot and shivery with a strength of desire that I've never felt before. Dimly, in the back of my head, I know this should frighten me. But right now, all I want to do is touch him.

I reach up, my breath coming quick and fast as my fingertips graze his chest. Eli sucks in a breath as sharply as if I've touched his cock, as I stroke my fingers over the soft hair, down towards his abs.

He dips his head, his mouth grazing over mine as I explore him. I feel him shiver as I smooth both my hands down his sides, my thumbs caressing the sharp angles of his hipbones, and his lips drag along my jaw, over the column of my throat. I remember his arousal earlier in the woods, how he'd said if he'd fucked me there it would have been over in seconds, and I can feel him struggling for restraint now.

My fingertips ghost over his hip, and I look up at his handsome, bearded face above mine, swallowing hard. "Can I touch you–your–"

Eli's throat convulses, and I feel his muscles tense. "I wish you would," he murmurs thickly, his mouth grazing over my collarbone, and my hand twitches, my fingers moving to slide down the underside of his stiff cock.

He's hard as iron, the velvet-soft texture of his straining flesh a sharp contrast. He moans as I touch him, dragging my fingertips all the way down to the strange swelling at the base of his cock. When I graze my fingers over that odd, tight flesh, his entire body jerks sharply above me, and he lets out a groan that sounds almost pained. He goes entirely still, except for a deep shudder that runs through him, and I feel hot liquid spill onto my stomach.

For a brief second, I think I made him come too soon. But his erection hasn't flagged, his cock still thick and stiff, pressed tightly against his abdomen. His eyes are closed, his breathing heavy, and I pull my hand back.

"Did I–hurt you?" I venture, feeling slightly confused. It must have something to do with him being a shifter, but I don't entirely know, and since he hasn't told me, I can't ask.

Eli shakes his head. His eyes open, still that metallic grey, and he lets out a slow breath. "I can explain now, or I can explain later," he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. "But if I'm bein' honest, Wisteria, right now I feel like I'm gonna die if I don't get inside you."

His hips arch forward as if to emphasize the words, his hand cupping my face as he turns my mouth back to his. His cock is trapped between us as he moves against me, hot and hard against my belly, slick with more pre-cum than I've ever seen from a man. My mind is full of questions, but the urgency of his kiss, the way he moves against me as if he's nearly desperate for me, drives them out of my head.

I feel like I'm gonna die if I don't get inside you.Desire blooms through me, hot and aching, and I reach up, curling my hands against the back of his shoulders. No one has ever said anything like that to me before; no one has ever wanted me so desperately. It blurs my mind like a drug, intoxicates me like a drink, and my thighs open in a silent invitation, asking him to do exactly that.

Eli reaches down, hand wrapping around his shaft as he angles himself between my legs. "I–fuck, Wisteria, tell me if it's too much. I'll try to stop–fuck–" He breathes hard as the swollen tip nestles between my folds, pushing against my slick entrance. He's too big, I can feel it already, but my hips arch up despite that, begging him for something I'm not entirely sure that I can take.

All I know is that right now, I feel exactly the same way. As if I'll die unless I feel him inside of me, filling me up, giving me everything I so desperately crave.

As if on impulse, he reaches for my wrists, my hands, his fingers lacing through mine as his hips arch forward. He raises them over my head, anchoring me more than pinning me as the thick head of his cock pushes inside of me, a burning stretch that's too much, too full. I cry out at the sensation, back arching, my fingers digging into his shoulders as his hips snap forward, another inch stretching me. I'm impossibly wet, so slick and ready that anyone else would have slid into me without effort, but Eli is struggling to get deeper.

He pants above me, his mouth covering mine again, a groan vibrating over my lips as he slides deeper. I cry out again, half-wail, half-moan, and Eli goes still above me, his hands gripping mine tightly as his eyes open.

"Are you alright?" he asks thickly, his voice hoarse, and I can feel the effort it takes for him to go still, for him to stay half-buried in me while he gives me a moment to adjust.

I nod breathlessly, past the ability to speak. I have a sudden flash of myself on my knees the way he was for me a moment before, that thick cock between my lips, the taste of him on my tongue. I tighten around him reflexively, clenching around the too-thick stretch of his cock, and Eli stiffens, groaning as his hips roll forward and another inch slips inside of me.

"Fuck, Wisteria–" He swallows hard, his hands flexing around mine. "I have to move, I have to–"

"It's okay." I tilt my chin up, seeking out his mouth again, wanting more even as I wonder how much more my body can take. "I want it. I want–"

Eli lets out a shuddering gasp, his hips rocking forward, and I feel him slide into me. More, and more, until suddenly his hips are seated against mine, and I feel him seated securely inside of me, sunk to the hilt. "That's it," he whispers. "That's all of me."

Except it's not. Not quite. I can feel that taut swelling pressed against my swollen folds, and the question flutters through my head again, but it can't take root. Not when I can feel Eli throbbing inside of me, struggling not to thrust, and all I want is for him to fuck me. Somewhere in the back of my head, a sense of self-preservation resists, wondering if it might hurt me, but I'm too far gone to care.

I arch upwards, urging him on, and Eli moans. One hand stays locked with mine, the other moving to my jaw as he tilts my mouth up for his again, his thumb sliding over my cheek as he starts to thrust.

It feels like nothing I've ever experienced before. My head falls back, my mouth opening on a cry as his lips press against my throat, his hand moving to cup my breast, to slide down my waist, to clutch my hip. His cock glides in and out of me, a powerful, inexorable movement that pins me to the bed as my legs wrap around his, his pelvis grinding against my swollen clit with every thrust. Cries fall from my lips, a breathless stream of moans as he thrusts into me, and dimly I realize that he's still being careful with me. That if he lost control, if he fucked me as savagely as he might want to, he could tear me apart.

The tight coil of pleasure in my belly starts to unfurl, sensation rippling out over my skin, my body moving in tandem with his. I feel my nails biting into his skin, my back arching, my moans rising to a keening wail as I feel myself start to come apart around him.

"Eli!" I shriek his name as the orgasm hits, crashing over me with the force of a tidal wave. My nails rake down his shoulders, and I feel something hot against my fingertips in the same moment that Eli lets out a deep, shuddering groan.

"Fuck, fuck–" He gasps, his voice raw as he holds himself inside of me for one moment, feeling me tighten and ripple around him before he jerks himself free. I dimly sense his hand wrapping around himself, hear the sound of wet flesh against flesh as he starts to stroke feverishly, and the sudden, hot splash of his cum spurts against my belly.

"Oh, god, Wisteria–" Eli moans my name, his eyes closed, and I glance down to see his hand gripping his cock as if he's on the verge of strangling it, stroking roughly as his fist meets that taut swelling at the base. His hips jerk, more cum spilling over my belly, more than I've ever seen as it drips over my skin, some of it spurting up to my breasts as he moans.

I'm still trembling with the aftershocks of my climax, gasping, the pleasure still vibrating over my raw nerves. His hand slows, cum still dripping from his cockhead as he blinks, his chest heaving as he slowly untangles my fingers from his.

Silence hangs heavily over the room as Eli slumps to one side, rolling onto the bed next to me. His hand splays possessively over my hip, his eyes closed for a moment as he tries to regain control of his breathing. Even as it softens, his cock is still impressively large, lying threateningly against his thigh. The swelling at the base, I notice, hasn't changed at all.

"That was–" He lets out a long breath, slowly opening his eyes to look at me. "I haven't come that hard in a long goddamn time."

"Me either. Never, actually." It comes out before I can stop it, more vulnerable than I want to be in this moment, but I can't seem to stop myself. I swallow hard, wondering what I'm supposed to do now. The late-afternoon light has turned to long shadows stretching over the wooden floor, and I glance down at my stomach, coated with Eli's cum. "I should probably–clean up–"

"If you want to." His voice is still low and rough, a growl at the edges of it that sends a fresh shiver of desire down my spine. "I can get somethin' for you. But I'd rather you just stay here for a bit, if it's all the same to you." His metallic gaze drags over my naked body, the same heat in his eyes, as if he didn't just fuck me senseless a moment ago. "I like the sight of you like that."

"You don't want me to go?" I lick my lips nervously. This wasn't what I had expected. I'd thought he'd want me out shortly after he came–I haven't known many men who liked to cuddle after, or who were partial to pillow talk.

Eli's gaze sharpens, but his hand stays heavy on my hip. "Do you want to go?"

"You're answering a question with a question." I can feel the moment spiraling away from us, and I want to grab at it with both hands, to stop it from slipping away. I don't want to have to be the vulnerable one, but I suppose that comes with the territory, going to bed with a man like Eli. He's not going to show his soft underbelly to me, not like this. Not now.

Not ever, if everything we said before this stays true.

"No," he says roughly, surprising me. "I'd like you to stay a while." He lets out a slow breath, moving closer, his thumb rubbing over my hipbone. "It's gonna take me a minute to recover, but once I do–" His thumb presses into my flesh, making me gasp softly. "I very much wanna fuck you again, if you can take it."

Truthfully, I'm not sure that I can. Or rather, that I should. I can feel how sore I'm going to be later, just from that, but my traitorous body tightens when he speaks, his voice rasping over my skin with the same rough sensation as his beard. "Should I clean up?" I whisper. "Before we–"

Eli shakes his head. "I like you covered in my cum," he growls, his voice low and possessive. "Marked with me. With my scent."

"Your–" I blink, and he tenses, as if he realizes that he's said more than he meant to.

He moves away from me, not far, but enough that I can see the line of his body clearly. "There's probably somethin' I should have told you, before we–" He swallows hard, his eyes darkening, back to that stormy blue. It's fascinating–it makes me feel as if I could look at his face endlessly, just to see what emotions change his eyes, what colors they shift to. The urge to reach out and touch him sweeps over me, and my hand curls, my fingers biting into my palm as I resist it.

"You're a shifter." I lick my lips, and I see his gaze flick down to my mouth. "I'm sorry. I guess I should have said I knew," I add, seeing the slightly confused look on his face. "Penelope told me. She knows someone who works with you, and so she heard–" I swallow hard. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' for you to apologize for." Eli looks at me, his expression clearing, concentration written across his face as if he's trying to decide what he wants to say. "Makes this all easier, I suppose. Though I still shoulda said somethin' first. Made sure you knew what you were takin' to bed with you. Some folks–" He shrugs, his voice carefully blank, but I can hear a thread of emotion running through the words despite that.

"Not what," I say softly. "Who."

He blinks, as if confused by what I mean for a moment, and then nods slowly. "Well, to some it's all the same. To some, I'm not much other than an animal. Bayton has been a bit of a respite when it comes to that–at least here, no one's gonna look at me cross-eyed for bein' what I am. But still, I shoulda told you before you went to bed with me."

My heart stills in my chest for a moment. Now is when I should tell him that I'm a witch. It would be the right thing to do, especially considering what he just shared with me. Deep down, I know I should have done the same–I should have told him I was a witch before we ended up here, naked and sweaty in his bed.

But the words don't come. He should understand, and I know that–hearing what he's just told me and the way he said it should be enough to make me feel sure that he wouldn't recoil from me. That he'd know all that bullshit about witches and shifters is just old superstition, and not true at all. That I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to, just because of what I am, and what he is.

All I can see, though, is the possibility of it going the other way. Of him angry with me, because I didn't tell him first. Of him telling me to get the fuck out, that he never wants to see me again. Accusing me of terrible things.

Today–every moment with him–has been something utterly beautiful. I don't want to lose that. I don't want a shadow cast over it. And I'm terrified to take the chance. Eli might have had mixed results when it comes to women knowing what he is–but I've never had anything but the wrong kind of reactions. I can't imagine anything else…especially when it comes to a shifter being the one next to me in bed.

Eli shifts, clearing his throat. "Anyway, now you know," he murmurs. "Or I guess you did before, I just didn't know it. But if it changes anythin'--"

"It doesn't." I roll onto my side to face him, my fingers trailing down his chest. "I figured you'd want me to leave right after we were done–most men do, in my experience. But if you want me to stay a while longer–" I slide my hand upwards, grazing my fingers over his throat, up to his jaw as I turn his mouth towards mine. "I like the sound of that."

"I certainly do." He moves closer, his large body pressing against mine as his fingers thread through my hair. I feel his cock against my thigh, still soft but heavy and warm against my skin, and I glance down.

"The shifter thing, is that why–" I lick my lips anxiously, unsure of what exactly is okay to ask. "When I touched you earlier–"

"Oh." Eli's mouth twitches. "I forget, sometimes, human women don't know much about shifter anatomy. At least, the ones who don't have a fetish for it."

"Is that who usually ends up in your bed? Women with a fetish for shifters?" The question startles me–it's a lot braver and more blunt than I would usually be. But he seems to bring that out in me. His laid-back, easy nature makes me feel the same, and I catch my mouth speaking before my brain has a chance to catch up.

Maybe he's someone you could just be yourself with. What you've always wanted.The small voice at the back of my head taunts me, ever so slightly, teasing me with that possibility. A possibility so tantalizing, it sends a pang through my chest when I remember what this is.

He's never going to be mine. This is a one-time thing, just for tonight, and I knew that when I pursued him. He made it clear what he was looking for, and what he wasn't. If I find myself wanting anything else, it's no one's fault but mine.

Though I couldn't possibly have known how good this would be, or how much I'd enjoy spending time with him.

It doesn't matter, anyway,I tell myself as I look up at him. I can't even tell him the truth about what I am–that I'm not just a human. So how can I imagine that he's that ‘one' that I could be myself with, and nothing else?

"More often than not, yeah," Eli says, jarring me back to our conversation. "If they're into shifters already, I don't gotta worry as much about whether or not they'll be upset, if they know. Or scared–which is a turn-on for some shifters, but not so much for me. A little fear can be fun, played the right way, but it's not really my kink."

"What is?" My cheeks heat, hearing myself ask it out loud, but he just chuckles.

"Ah, I dunno. The usual things. Tyin' a partner up can be a good time. This–" He gestures at my skin, still streaked with his cum. "Turns me on like nothin' else, seein' that."

His cock twitches against my thigh, hardening, as if to emphasize his statement. "Likin' someone's smell. Goin' down on a woman gets me hard as a rock. And someone who really enjoys herself in bed. I like hearin' you moan. Seein' your face when you take my cock. Seein' how good it makes you feel." His voice drops as he says it, his cock thickening between us.

"But downside to sleepin' with women who're into shifters, sometimes I gotta disappoint them." He shrugs, and I frown, confused.

"I can't imagine why they'd be disappointed. I can't think of anything about you in bed that would be disappointing." I really can't, and I think it shows on my face, because Eli chuckles.

"Well, that brings us back to the anatomy thing." He takes my hand, his broad palm enclosing my fingers, and moves it down to his hardening cock. "Where you touched me earlier?" He moves my hand lower, my fingers brushing against that taut swelling, and he sucks in a sharp breath just at the lightest touch of my fingers grazing over it.

"What is it?" I ask softly, and he breathes out slowly. The instant I touched him there, I felt his cock lurch, iron-hard between us as if I'd flipped a switch. It seems as if it's as sensitive as my clit–more so, even.

"My knot. It's unique to wolf shifters." He presses my hand against it, groaning low in his throat, his hips rocking against my hand almost involuntarily. "You can explore a little, if you want," he murmurs, taking his hand away, and I can't help but be curious. I graze my fingers over the tight flesh, fascinated with his instantaneous reaction, the way his cock throbs instantly in response and his muscles tighten.

"It feels good?" I ask softly, and he nods, seemingly past the ability to speak. I test it a little more, pressing with my fingers, and gasp when I feel a spurt of heat against my belly.

Eli groans, his hips grinding into mine, and I gingerly close my fingers around the swollen knot, stroking it the way I would if I were stroking his cock, curious to see what will happen.

He reacts instantly. His hand near my head grips the pillow, his head falling back as he lets out a moan, his cock spilling onto my stomach. "Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into my hand, his other hand clutching at the blanket. "Fuck, fuck–oh, god, Wisteria–"

The way he moans my name sends a flood of heat through me. "Don't stop," he breathes, his voice raspy and pleading. "God, that's so fucking good, please–"

"Are you going to keep coming for me?" I can tell it's not an orgasm, exactly, that it's something separate, but the semantics of it don't really matter. I move closer to him, trapping his hard length tightly between our bodies as I stroke his knot, my other hand wrapping in his hair as I guide his mouth back to mine. "Are you going to fuck me, when you're done letting me play with you?"

I can hardly believe what's coming out of my mouth. I've never talked dirty in bed–I've always been the kind of girl who's shy about whether or not she's moaning too loudly. But here, in this darkening room, in the quiet warmth of Eli's bed, it feels as if nothing matters. As if it's just he and I, and I can say or do whatever I want. Whatever I feel.

It's the most liberating feeling I've ever had.

He can't seem to speak, the pleasure of what I'm doing too overwhelming, and it turns me on more than I would have ever thought possible. I didn't know I could make anyone feel this good, and it's a heady, dizzying thing. "How would it feel if I went down on you while I did this?" I whisper, pressing my fingers into his knot again as more hot cum spills over my belly, and Eli groans.

"Maybe we save that for another night," he murmurs against my lips.

We both go still in the instant after he says it, the words hanging between us. "I thought this was a one-night thing," I breathe, my hand resting against his cock, a tremor running through me. "Do you want it to be more?"

Eli lets out a slow breath, his mouth grazing against mine. "Maybe one more night," he murmurs. "You make me feel real good, Wisteria. I'd like to show you all the ways I could do the same for you. I'm startin' to think no one ever really has."

"You'd be right about that." I slide my hand up his damp cock, wrapping my fingers around his thick shaft. As I'd thought earlier, my fingers don't quite meet. "One more night," I whisper, and Eli groans, his hand pressing against the small of my back as he crushes me to him.

"We're not done tonight, either," he murmurs, his tongue sliding over my lower lip. "You got me hard again, darlin'. I need to do somethin' about that."

"You can do whatever you want," I breathe, and I mean it.

Right now, I'd let him do anything to me. And the fact that he wants another night doesn't scare me. It thrills me.

I want the same thing. I know I'm toeing a dangerous line, letting us draw this out without telling him the truth. But it won't last forever.

And I want it to last for as long as it can.