Page 78 of Fate, Interrupted

“I want to learn what you want too,” I say. “Don’t shut me out.”

Then I slide down the length of his body, caressing and kissing his neck, his stomach, then his lower abs. I know now what the expression your body is your temple means. They mean Silas Coulter. The man is solid muscle, thick dark hair covering his chest, with a treasure trail that is made to be explored. I nibble, lick, and suck, until finally, my mouth is over the head of his cock.

“Arrgh.” Silas raises his hips, but I push him down. “Not yet. When I’m done, if you want to finish in me, it’ll be with me on top riding you with everything I’ve got.”

“Fuck.”

I bury my head in him, breathing in the soft scent of me. Then I begin to love him. First, I run my tongue up and down his shaft, lifting it gently and lap the entire length from the back.

His response is a growl. Not a throaty growl, but the sound a wolf makes defending their kill from interlopers. A growl that comes right before he sinks his teeth in the jugular.

I don’t stop. I don’t even blink. I’m too turned on to consider that I might be in danger. As I run my tongue around the tip of his engorged cock, I start to throb. I need this man inside me again. I take him in my mouth, as much as I can, and move quickly, at pace with his hips thrusting up and down.

“Oh, Norah. Don’t stop.”

I don’t. But I want this man inside me too badly. I can’t last much longer before I come again.

When my lips come off him, he sighs. He thinks it’s over. With one quick move, I’m straddling him, my hips positioned over the head of his cock. I move by feel, not even having to guide him into me. All I do is sit, and he’s in me up to his balls.

“Fuuck!”

I move off slowly as he tries to follow me, then roughly push him down. “You want more?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I lower myself again. “You’re doing so well. Tell me how you like it.”

“Faster.”

There’s no need for foreplay. This isn’t loving, or careful, or patient. This is a primal hunger to be satisfied. A need for release and nothing more.

Silas grabs my hips, moving me back and forth against the length of him. My hands find his forearms, and I stop. The muscle under my palms is hard in a way that has nothing to do with effort—dense, coiled, a body built to run and hunt. I look at his face. His eyes have gone fully amber, not a trace of green left in them, and I know without being told that I am not just with Silas right now. I am with all of him. My heart hammers in my chest, and I gasp. I hold his gaze anyway, and I don’t look away.

Leaning over him, every inch of me touches him, my breasts pressed against his chest. I’m so close as he works me against him.

When I’m on the cusp of becoming sore, he senses it. He holds me tight, stilling his body and I feel him growing in me. At the same time my body arches and I explode around his shaft, shuddering as the wet warmth of him runs down my legs.

I roll off him, totally drained and sated.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he moans.

I laugh softly.

“But what a way to die, eh?”

Afterward, we lie together, his still stiff cock laid out across his stomach. He strokes my arm, starting at my shoulder and working his way down to my wrist. Soft, featherlight, his finger barely graze the raised hairs. We lie there, the sounds of the late afternoon city on the other side of the wall. His breathing slows. Mine does, too.

His stillness changes into a kind I haven’t felt from him before, not the taut, controlled quiet of a man holding himself back, but the other quiet, the quiet of a wolf that has found what it was searching for.

He pulls back and looks at me.

His eyes are bright, the wolf still present, and I feel the effort it costs him to hold that stillness, the contained tension of a man barely containing the wolf pressing at the edges of his control.

“You’re using me to outrun whatever you’re avoiding,” he says.

His voice is rough. His hands are still on me. The wanting is still there.

“Yes,” I say. “And I still want this. Both things are true.”