Page 28 of Folds
Pleasure builds quickly as she follows the silent direction of my manhandling with ease. Her lips and tongue work in circles over my folds, as her nose, strokes up and down until she finds my clit beneath the fabric and I can rock myself against the firm contours of her face.
I’m so close. So godsdamn close.
My claws are full length now, and they tangle in her hair. Legs spread wide, grip firm and tight, I’m aggressive with her, and she likes it, seems to crave it. I want to give her more.
“Do not stop, Lucy. I do not give you permission to stop, you hear me?”
She lets out a muffled response between my thighs and against my wetness, as I’ve soaked through my pants. Release is building, uncontrolled and unrestrained, my body no longer operated by the human part of me, but by the wolf.
I howl, loud and guttural. The room seems to shake, and Lucy’s body suddenly stiffens under my claws.
I’ve gone too far. Way too far.
I push Lucy back and off my lap, her pretty face pink and glistening with sweat, her red hair a tangled mess, sticking out like a flaming halo.
“My angel, sent to me,” I mutter to myself, losing the words in the heavy breathing.
“Did I do something wrong?” She looks so eager to receive notes. Fuck, if my clit doesn’t throb at the thought of her wanting to take corrections. “We don’t have to stop. I want to keep going.”
My body is not my own right now, not the sane part of me anyways. It’s the wolf’s. That part of me is selfish and demanding, impulsive and aggressive, always so incredibly hungry. I don’t want to stop with Lucy—I want to devour her.
I need my cabin, and I need my chains.
“Stand up.” My voice is rough and weighted.
Lucy jumps to her feet, eyes glossy and half-lidded.
“Hands on my desk,” I command.
She tries biting her lip, but her smile is too strong; as she slams her hands down on the smooth surface of the table, her lips pull upwards.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I tell her, even though I know I won’t stop unless she tells me to.
“Why? I came here to be with you.”
She stares greedily at my hands, and I jerk them back to my sides, hoping I’m hidden enough by the shadows that she mistakes my claws for fashionable long-nails.
“You came for this?” I ask, testing her as I show her the smooth, thin end of the broken pointer stick, my hand turned tohide the long, black claws. “You came for me to use you to get off and then to take a stick to your ass?”
“Yes,” she gasps, “I know who you are, what you want, because I want it too. I came exactly for this.”
“Lift your skirt,” I demand.
I’ve not yet changed into my werewolf form, not fully. I can do this—get her off and get her out before I lose myself completely. If I feel my tail come in, I’ll stop. I’ll chain myself to the radiator in the back and ride out the transformation until Lucy is far away.
“Drop the underwear,” I bark, saliva pooling at the base of my fangs, my lips barely able to cover them now.
She yanks her skirt up to her waist and shimmies her panties down her hips so fast, they rip.
chapter five
LUCY
“Shit,” I gasp as the sheer fabric of my underwear tears. “Oh well.”
I swear, I hear Professor Kane laugh as I try to kick off the torn purple panties, only to get them stuck on one of my boots. Her voice is so thick with desire that the idea of some light humiliation, if it pleases her, only makes me wetter.
“Elbows on the desk. Ass up, Lucy.”
