Page 35 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“Please naked. Please bed. Please now.”

“As you wish.”

I don’t know if he knows he’s making aPrincess Bridereference or not, but it makes me smile nonetheless. He releases his grip on my wrist so I can help with our disrobing. We get a bit tangled trying to remove each other’s shirts, pants, and underwear. It’s obvious I didn’t choreograph this. I’m not sure what to expect when I see his cock for the first time. He’s been blessed with length and girth, but not ridiculously so. I’ve never slept with another wolf shifter—or any shifter—before. My previous partners have been human. I think the fact I was a shifter caused them to have sexual expectations of me I didn’t live up to. Like that I prefer doggy style. I don’t. Back when I was hoping to feel connected to my partners, I wanted missionary. I wanted to be facing each other.

I wonder what Trevor expects. When we’re naked and stretched out on the bed, I expect our joining to be frantic and explosive. However, it’s slow and tender. Brushes of fingertips, lingering kisses, sighs, and murmurs of “yes” and “ooh, I like that.” As good as everything feels, I can’t stop the worrying thoughts pushing into my mind. What if I don’t satisfy him? What if I don’t know how to do something that’s expected of me as a wolf shifter?

I must tense up because suddenly he stops nuzzling my neck and is rolling off me to hold himself up with a forearm.

“What’s wrong? Did you change your mind? It’s okay if you did, we’ll stop. If you don’t like something, Sophie, just tell me.” His eyes are hazy with lust, but I can see the concern in his expression. He would stop. That’s how every man should react, but I know that’s not always the case. It makes me want him even more. And makes me more afraid of disappointing him.

“Hey, talk to me.” He runs his calloused fingertips gently along my jaw.

“I…I haven’t done this before,” I whisper. When his eyes widen, I realize how that sounds. “I mean, I’ve donethisbefore. I’m not a virgin. But I haven’t slept with another shifter. Is there something different about it? Doggy style?” I’m blushing, and if it was possible to pull the covers over my head and hide in embarrassment, I would.

His brows pull down in consternation. “Do you like doggy style? I want to give you what you want, but that’s not my go-to. It feels so impersonal, and that’s not what I want with you.”

His chest expands with a deep breath and slow release.

“Should we be getting dressed and talking? We don’t need to rush into anything. Your pleasure and comfort are what matter to me. If you’re uncomfortable going any further, we can get dressed and watch a movie. I can go back to the barn.” He gestures to his cock. “I obviously want you.” As if to emphasize the point, a drop of precum drips onto my thigh. “But I want you to want this too. I care about you, Sophie.”

My last shield crumbles. My heart is going to be broken when this is over, and I may break his heart, too. But it’s going to be worth it.

Resting my hand on the back of his neck, I pull him down into a kiss. I pour all my yearning and desire into it. I want this man. His body, his pleasure, and lord help me, his heart. But for tonight, I’ll settle for the first two.

“I want this, Trevor. I want you,” I say between kisses. “I want to hold you and see you as we do this.” I pull back from our kisses so I can look into his eyes. “Is that okay?”

He nuzzles my cheek with his nose. There’s a tug low in my core. I want this man. I hope he still wants me, too.

Trevor presses the gentlest, sweetest kiss to the corner of my mouth and rubs his chin along my jaw. His scruff is ticklish, and I better not have beard burn in the morning.

“More than okay,” he murmurs, kissing his way down my neck and to my breasts. He’s now resting with his weight upon me, but I don’t feel suffocated. I feel cozy. He’s so tall, his torso is over my lower abdomen and between my legs. His large hands completely engulf my breasts as he caresses one while kissing and sucking on the other. I’m not overly endowed, a B cup, but they’re firm and perky and, if his moans and low growls of pleasure are any indication, completely enough to please Trevor. The attention he’s paying to my breasts, while appreciated, makes me want him inside me. Now. I know I should be doing more in the foreplay department than lying back and enjoying his attention, but he’s getting so much pleasure from giving it, it feels rude not to relish in receiving. I’ll take care of him next time.

“Trevor,” I whisper.

“Hmm?” he hums as he licks his way to my navel, lifting his lust-filled eyes to mine.

“Do you have a condom?” Please let him have a condom. I’m on the pill, and I know my cycle, so I shouldn’t be fertile, but I don’t want to risk anything. Shifters rarely get STIs, and I know hockey players are tested by team doctors regularly, so I’m not overly concerned about that, but I always use a condom. No glove, no love, as they say.

“Yeah,” he says, licking around my belly button before pressing a kiss to it and then blowing a raspberry. I giggle, and he looks up with a boyish grin. “Should I be getting it?”

I nod. In a flash, he’s retrieved a couple of foil squares from his wallet and is stretching to put one on the nightstand.

“For round two,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

I mentally add a box of condoms to my grocery list.

Sitting up, I hold out my hand. “Let me.”

I roll the condom he produced from his wallet onto his hard cock. Once sheathed by the latex, he gives his shaft a couple of strokes as he kisses me, easing me back against the duvet. The cotton is cool on my skin, but it feels nice in contrast to the heat radiating from Trevor’s body. His weight settles on top of me, and the head of his cock brushes through my folds. I know I cheated myself on foreplay, but I’m dying to have him inside me, filling me in a way I’m sure no other man has been able to. We can do more foreplay next time. This time I want to get to the main event.

We’re kissing as he eases his length into me, stretching me, filling me. We both sigh with pleasure when he’s fully seated. I clench my inner muscles, and he growls. I’ve never made a man growl before. I don’t know if it’s a shifter thing or a Trevor thing. All I know is that I love it.

“Sophie, love,” Trevor says, between nibbles, kissing to a spot below my right ear that I didn’t know was connected to my clit. “If you keep doing that, this isn’t going to last very long.”

Love. I know it’s just a casual term of endearment and doesn’t mean anything, but I wish it did. I know I’m going to regret all of this when it’s over and I’m a brokenhearted mess. But I don’t care. It’s worth it to feel what I’m feeling now.

He starts a steady rhythm of deep thrusts and even works in some of the rumba hip swivels I taught him earlier. I think naked rumba moves are my new favorite. He thrusts faster and harder, and tension coils inside me. We’re still kissing, and my hands are roaming over his strong shoulders and down his muscled back. His hands have been tracing my curves and gripping my hips. When he slips one between us to massage my clit, I tumble over the edge into the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life. I call out Trevor’s name, and with another two thrusts and a satisfied moan, Trevor falls over the cliff with me. As we lay tangled together, sweaty and catching our breaths, I realize we aren’t having sex. We’re making love. And I’m terrified.

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