Page 16 of Lost and Bound
I struggled, trying to pull away, to protest and tell him to take his condescending mockery and stuff it up his own fucking ass, but it was like fighting a brick wall.
He held me in place without any effort at all, and his tongue flicked out, teasing my lower lip, brushing my tongue, asking me to let him in.
I wanted to keep fighting, try to shove him away from me.
But it’d been so long since I’d kissed anyone…only I wasn’t kissing him. He was kissing me, and I couldn’t believe how different it felt.
I couldn’t believe how it drained the resistance right out of me, like he’d cut my strings. The surety of his mouth moving on mine mesmerized me.
He carefully persuaded me into parting my lips and teasing back with my tongue, feeling the shape of his mouth and learning the way he moved.
He dipped in, withdrew, nibbled my lower lip. Always gently. Not even the threat of breaking the skin with those very-sharp teeth that’d ripped my throat to shreds the day before—that would inevitably do it again, and soon. He had to be mocking me.
Hehadto be. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop him, or even muster up the will to try again.
My hands had been resting on my splayed thighs, but they moved without any conscious input from me, drifting up to press open-palmed against his chest. The hair there felt softer than I expected. I let my fingers move, exploring the firmness of his flesh. He ran warm, like all alphas, and between the heat of his mouth and my position cradled in his lap, the chill I’d felt for days—or maybe years—melted away.
Imelted, going boneless and loose, but still with that core of hard tension deep within me. He slid his hands under my shirt and stroked up and down my back, around my waist, letting one hand travel as far as the waistband of my pants, fingers slipping just under to trace the swell of the top of my ass.
He’d gotten hard under me, even though he hadn’t moved his lower body at all. His erection pressed against my balls, poking up in front of me, tenting his pants. Apparently he was interested enough after all—although that could simply be due to having been alone as long as I had.
He released my mouth at last, pressing kisses along my jaw and ducking his head to my neck.
I tensed automatically. The last time he’d had his mouth on my neck he’d meant to kill me, before I argued him out of it. And the time before that…I shivered. And next time…
But I still tipped my head back.
He pressed a line of soft, closed-mouthed kisses down the line of my throat. “Easy,” he murmured into my skin. “No teeth. Just this. I’m going to taste you on the outside first. I won’t hurt you. Not until I’ve given you what you asked for.”
I shuddered, a little moan rushing out of me completely out of nowhere, as he kissed along my collarbones, as he started rucking up my shirt to push it over my head. What I’d asked for…was this what I’d asked for? No, I hadn’t asked for this, for kisses and caresses and tenderness. I didn’t want that. I’d asked for some straightforward consideration, not just the kind of brutal possession of my body that his unfettered alpha instincts, and all that rage he had simmering under the surface, would have naturally led him to carry out.
But it was sick, how much I seemed to be craving his, what, his approval? His care? His…it felt like he was making love to me, as he stroked me and cradled me in his big hands. As he pushed my shirt up and I lifted my arms, letting him pull it off and toss it away. The cold of the room brought goosebumps up on my skin, pebbled my nipples.
My belly clenched. I didn’t want this. I’d never wanted this, in either direction. I’d been a predator, a tall, muscular, cocky, aggressive werewolf, pursuing his lovers without any subtlety or care. I’d wanted to fuck.
Gods, I’d always been the aggressor, and now I had this man who could’ve crushed me with one hand bending down, tracing his tongue around my nipple, closing his lips over it and tugging, sending bright sparks of sensation winging through me. My nerves were coming to life, like pins and needles of the soul, my body waking up from two years of hibernation.
My cock was hard, I realized. Hard, and aching, and pressing into his belly. I’d started rocking my hips, rubbing it against him, riding the ridge of his erection beneath me in turn.
He moved to the other nipple, kissing it, flicking it with his tongue, as delicate as if I’d been made of crystal. Soft. Tender. The way no one had ever touched me, because who bothered to be careful with someone like me? His arm wrapped around my back, and he shifted his hips, tipping me back against his arm so that it was all that held me up.
I let him take my weight. What the hell was I doing, trusting him, letting him treat me like this…closing my eyes and spreading myself wantonly, legs open over his hips and my whole neck and chest and belly exposed. He bent further, kissing over my ribs, teasing my navel with his tongue. My cock brushed his stubbled chin, and I started and groaned.
“I’ll get there,” he said.
My head swam. He’d strongly implied he was straight, hadn’t he? Or was it just me he didn’t like that much? “You don’t have to do that,” I slurred, my voice seeming to have melted down as much as my brain and my oddly pliant body. “I’m not a fucking virgin, I told you. And I’m a sure thing. I don’t need to be talked into this.”
He stopped, his hot breath brushing over my chest, his whole body still. “You don’t want me to.”
Part of me really, really wanted him to—the part currently standing up and straining for his attention. Gods, my cockachedfor it. I’d hardly felt any kind of sexual desire in so long, and now I suddenly wanted a blowjob like I wanted fucking oxygen.
I didn’t want a pity blowjob, though, even through the haze of fear and confusion…and arousal, gods. And maybe a small voice in the back of my mind was also telling me that I didn’t want those terrifying teeth wrapped around my vulnerable cock.
The vulnerable part in question pulsed, getting impossibly harder, and I whimpered, my hands clutching at his chest.
Oh.
Maybe I did.
