Page 14 of The Alpha's Warlock
“Nate, look, I — what the fuck?” Heavy footsteps thudded across the room, vibrating the bed through the floorboards.
I didn't even have the strength to move my eyeballs, let alone my head, so I glanced up at him with my peripheral vision alone. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his chest bare and gleaming with a few rivulets of water. Fuck, but his shoulders were big. And both of my hands would barely have wrapped around one of his biceps.
Then he dropped the towel. My heartrate accelerated, ramping up from sleepy-slow to painful in two seconds. The jolt of adrenaline made my stomach lurch and my head pound, but it didn't give me any more energy, somehow.
“What,” I gasped. “What are you —”
I cut off with a little choke of protest as he pulled the blankets back and unceremoniously climbed in next to me.
“There's something wrong with you,” he said bluntly. “You're crying. You can hardly move. And the bond feels…all fuzzy and weird.” My chest heaved, and I let out a little sob. Ian muttered something to himself I couldn't exactly make out, but he sounded pissed as hell. That couldn't possibly have beenNice going, Ian, you asshole, right? No way. “Yeah, and now I know there's something really fucking wrong with you, because you didn't even tell me I sound like a moron.” There was an edge of panic to his voice that wound me up even more, my whole body starting to jitter like I'd had an entire pot of coffee instead of exactly none.
Turning on his side to face me, he slid one arm under my shoulders with shocking gentleness, his hand smoothing over my skin. He draped himself over me, my side pressed up against all of his naked skin, his cock nudging against my hip. The scent of shower gel and shower-heated Ian enveloped me, like a sexy tropical pine forest — which made no sense at all. But then again, neither did how much I liked it.
“I'm not an expert, but I think the bond's doing this to you. Werewolf mating bonds take a while to settle in. You're supposed to touch a lot, stuff like that. And then whatever the ever-loving fuck happened earlier can't have helped.” Ian leaned over me, his face inches away, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a frown. “Nate? You listening?”
“What does it matter?” My lips could barely form the words; I could barely feel them. I hadn't moved at all, just lying there in his arms like a lump. “I'm not useful.”
“Not useful,” he repeated slowly, his expression hardening. “That's not the —” His hand tightened on my upper arm, and the other hand landed on my throat, wrapping around and pushing up my chin, so that I had to look him in the eyes. “You're useful,” he said at last. “You'll draw out the Kimballs. And you'll set the damn wards, Matt wants you to.” A little note of bitterness there, and I wished I had the energy to gloat properly. “So we'll do whatever we need to do to keep you functioning. Got it?” I didn't reply, and he sighed. “Look, there's something I want to try.”
Was it better to be useful, and therefore used, or useless and left to die? That was an interesting, if fucking grim, philosophical question, and one I wished had less practical and more theoretical application in my disaster area of a life.
Maybe I'd have made some progress in thinking about it, maybe not. I didn't get the chance to find out. Ian leaned down, slowly but without hesitation, and set his mouth over mine. His lips were softer than I'd expected — if I'd thought about it. Which I hadn't. Soft. Warm. Coaxing.
My lips parted automatically, and my breath whooshed out, mingling with his, as his tongue delicately teased at the tip of mine.
This was not how Ian Armitage, badass alpha dickhead, was supposed to kiss. It should've been rough, and careless, and selfish, not this sweet tease. He pressed in harder, his chest brushing against mine as he leaned down, smooth skin and silky hair and heat.
I let out a soft little moan, more of a whimper.
And then, like a switch had flipped, it got rough. Rough, and demanding, insisting on an answer to a question I couldn't begin to understand. Ian devoured me, fucking into my mouth like a madman, the hand on my throat tensing in a way that should have felt threatening — and didn't. That pressure went straight to my cock and set all my nerves on fire along the way.
The bond flared between us, his magic and mine arcing along it like overloaded current. It wasn't the torrential rush of my magic from earlier in the day. It wasn't destructive. It sparked, and it crackled, and it lit me up from the inside like a firecracker had gone off in my spine. The bite scar on the curve of my neck throbbed.
Ian tore his mouth away. “Fuck, Nate, fuck, fuck, fuck...” He ducked his head and pressed searing kisses down my chest, biting at a nipple as he passed by. I jerked away, or tried to, and he did it again, leaving a piercing ache behind as he moved down again, mouthing over my abdomen and making me squirm.
He shifted his arm, sliding it down my back until it was wrapped around my waist, his hand gripping my side so tightly his fingers left indentations in my skin. The muscles in his forearm bunched and flexed beneath me.
Abruptly, he released my throat — and gods help me, I wanted that hand back, pinning me in place, until he used it to push the blankets down, baring me to the knees.
That was when I remembered I hadn't put on any underwear when I'd stolen his clothes that morning. Of course he'd stripped off the muddy jeans I’d been wearing before he put me in bed. And now I was laid out naked, and he was shoving one leg up, spreading me open into a wanton sprawl that only had one purpose.
Or so I thought, until he bent and swallowed my straining cock in one go. I cried out, arching up into the wet heat of his mouth and throat. Ian didn't hold me down, didn't back off, just sucked like he was starving for it, licking and — ohfuck, he wasgrowling, the sound vibrating through my overstimulated dick and down into my balls, and lower. I went off like he'd detonated the atom bomb of blowjobs, my arms flailing until I'd clutched handfuls of his hair, my scream echoing off the rafters.
The bond pulsed in time with my aftershocks of pleasure, as if it was orgasming too. Ian swallowed every drop and then slumped with his head against my hip, panting like he'd run a marathon. Like he was a human who'd run a marathon — Ian could've run a marathon without breaking a sweat. His broad shoulders heaved, gleaming with sweat, and another full-body shiver ran through me.
I'ddone that.Sucking my cockhad done that. To Ian. I basked in that for a split second, in the incandescent glow of how fucking awesome I was, until reality came crashing back in.
Getting off usually gave me a boost. Most guys in my experience needed to recharge after sex. Not me. I was always up and bouncing off the walls, at least when I'd enjoyed it. This time was like that turned up to eleven. My brain was going a mile a minute. The bond had been damaged by my discharge of uncontrolled magic, and it drained me until I fed it with contact with my bond-mate. I was supercharged now, sure, but that was simply the bond reminding me who was boss.
It was obviously riding Ian just as hard, even if he didn't realize it. Guilt seeped in. He'd never actually answered my question about his sexual preferences. Knowing how to fuck someone up the ass, even knowing where my prostate was, didn't mean he wanted to do it with men. And fucking was one thing — alpha wolves were a little more omnivorous when it came to getting their dicks wet.
Sucking mine was something totally different. If magic made me go down on a woman, I'd be grossed out and pissed off, even though, you know, high-five to anyone who loved it.
“Ian?” I still had my hands in his hair. I forced myself to relax my grip before I gave him a bald spot, and I let my hands fall to the bed. “You okay?”
When he lifted his head, his eyes glowed like stars, yellow shining through the pale blue. “Fine.” It was a little muffled; his fangs were out. Fuck, glad that waited until he was done sucking me off.
“Do you need —”
