Page 63 of Captive Mate
I raised an eyebrow. That sounded…dubious. If Ian wasn’t Matthew’s brother, I’d have been charging in demanding to know what the fuck he’d been up to while I was gone.
“It’s not for me,” Matthew said. “You know that.”
“Yeah, Matt. I know. You’re pathetic.Youknowthat, right?”
“Takes one to know one,” Matthew grumbled.
I stepped into the bedroom and dropped my bag. Matthew popped out of the bathroom, his face flushed, his hair a mess, and his clothes and exposed skin liberally spattered with something white. Paint? I sniffed the air. I didn’t smell paint, exactly, but there was something else, something home improvement-related.
“What’s going —” Before I could finish the sentence, Matthew had me pinned up against the wall, kissing me like I’d been gone for months instead of days. He ground his cock into my hip, and I thrust back, simultaneously trying to climb him like a tree.
Giddy joy surged up in me, and I couldn’t pull him close enough, couldn’t kiss him hard enough, wanted my clothes to spontaneously combust so that I could have his skin on mine,now.
“I’ll get my keys back later, fuck,” Ian muttered as he brushed past us and left the room, shutting the door with pointed force behind him.
Matthew pulled back, and I whined in protest. “I have to show you something,” he said breathlessly, and then dived right back in. “Fuck, fuck, I missed you,” he said against my neck. “Fuck.”
“Yes please,” I moaned, and started to tear at his stained clothing.
“No,” he said, and pulled back again. “No, wait, seriously. I need to show you.”
“Show me quickly, then, and get back to the fucking.”
Matthew smiled — gods he was gorgeous like this, all happy and lustful and filthy — and pulled me into the bathroom.
Which wasn’t the same bathroom anymore. It had contained a toilet, a sink with a small counter, and a shower stall.
Now there was barely enough room to get to the toilet and the sink, the shower stall was gone, and filling most of the room was a massive bathtub.
Not just a bathtub. A sunken deal, with jets in the sides, and one side sloping and contoured for maximum lounging potential.
I gaped at it, for once completely, utterly speechless.
Grout. That was what I’d smelled and what was all over Matthew. That was why the walls were gouged and scraped. Matthew and Ian must have carried this monstrous thing up the stairs, a job that would’ve been impossible for a couple of normal human men, and challenging even for two tall alpha werewolves.
“I got it used, I’m sorry,” Matthew was saying, sounding adorably worried. “I bleached the fuck out of it, though. Nate used some magic to make sure it was ‘molecular-level clean,’ whatever that means. It’s — it’s kind of big, but I thought you — do you like it?”
My brain seemed to have stalled out. So had my mouth. I opened and closed it a few times like a landed fish.
He needed me to say something, but — what did you say about something like this? Something that showed a fundamental understanding of what I liked, ofme, that no one but my brother had ever taken the time or made the effort to achieve? Most of the time I was gone had to have been spent on this project. That explained why he’d sounded so chill about it when I called to say I’d been delayed, something that had hurt my feelings at the time.
And Matthew had done it himself. He hadn’t hired a contractor or gotten one of the pack to do it. He’d grouted the fucking bathtubhimself.
“Bite me,” I gasped.
A short, startled pause. “What?”
I spun around and met Matthew’s eyes. I knew my own were probably wide and wild; his were too. “Bite me. Mate me. Fucking pin me down and take me and knot me and go all alpha and leave your mark on me —”
Matthew growled, his eyes flashed, and he seized me around the waist and hauled me into his arms, dragging me into the bedroom.
Ever since I’d lifted the spell and Matthew had been sane again, he’d been so careful with me. Not always completely gentle, but never rough, and never fully dominant. Not the way he’d been when we’d fucked the first time. He held himself back, he watched me carefully, and he never, ever lost control.
I’d almost forgotten how it felt when he did.
And this time, there wasn’t a trace of fear mixed with my arousal. My whole body sang with it, with being the focus of Matthew’s unrelenting force. He shredded my clothes with his claws, kissed and nipped and licked me everywhere, and I writhed under him, gasping encouragement and pleas.
He flipped me onto my stomach, the pillow cool against my burning cheek and my legs splayed at an angle that left me completely exposed to him. I was helpless, totally under his control, and I knew that a single word from me would stop him. His breath fanned hot over the back of my neck as he pressed between my thighs, his hands hot and rough on my fevered skin.
