Page 55 of Howl for Me
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He howls. His hips jerk against mine and I feel it, all of it, his cum spilling hot and thick inside me, pulsing in heavy waves that flood every inch of me. I clutch at his fur, panting, moaning, unable to move with his knot holding me down, holding me full.
And then his voice breaks, soft, ruined, human.
“I couldn’t stop…fuck… You feel too fucking good.”
He shudders, tongue swiping along my throat in a slow, possessive lick. “I can feel you clenching. God, you’re still milking me.”
I feel his release drip out of me around his swollen, knotted cock that still has us locked together.
He wasn’t supposed to do that. I should panic. But I don’t because his golden eyes meet mine, and even like this, he’s still there. Still Johnny. Still mine. And we don’t move. We’re stuck,fused, until his knot finally begins to swell down. We stare at each other like the world narrowed to just this, just us.
Then the clapping starts. Slow and deliberate at first, then it grows. A rising wave of sound that slams me back into reality. The crew, the cameras, the shoot. Oh god, we just…
I suck in a sharp breath and look away. We just went completely off script. I’d completely forgotten while I was lost in him. In the way he treated my body like it was something sacred. In the way he looked at me like I was everything. Now his eyes are wide with a different emotion. Panic.
He pulls out, and I flinch at the sudden loss. His release spills from me, warm and thick, slipping down my thighs as I sit there trembling, stunned, and completely undone.
“Cass,” he breathes, panic tightening his voice.
He reaches for me and helps me sit up gently, cradling me like I’m made of glass. I’m still trying to pull myself together when Naomi sweeps in, calm and collected, slipping a robe over my shoulders. I don’t say a word. I can’t. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, reality is slapping me across the face.
Johnny scoops me into his arms, shielding me from the world and rushing us off the set. I bury my face in his neck, pretending the stares, the lights, the reality, isn’t clawing at me from all sides. He brings me into his dressing room, kicks the door shut, and carries me straight into the bathroom. His hands are trembling. Mine are too. He sets me gently on the counter, turning toward the tub and filling it with steaming water, his back tight with tension. When he faces me again, his eyes are glassy.
“Are you okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I nod. “Yeah. I think so.”
But I can barely look at him. I’m so full of questions I can’t even form yet. He steps between my knees and cups my face, kissing me deep like he needs to taste forgiveness on my tongue.
“I’m so sorry,” he says against my mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to do that. I had to stop myself from marking you. I was so focused on fighting the urge that I lost myself in you. I’m so sorry, Cass. I was hanging on by a thread, And I lost it. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I swallow, blinking back tears I didn’t realize were forming. I reach up and kiss him again.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“No, it’s not. You don’t understand what it means.”
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes.
“Yes, I do, Johnny.”
And we both fall quiet because we do know what it means. We just aren’t saying it. Not yet. I should be panicking. I should be terrified. He knotted me. I could get pregnant.
Pregnant.
The very life I ran from, the one I swore I’d never let myself have, swollen-bellied, living in the shadow of a man, mother to some wild-eyed child. It’s right there, breathing down my spine. And yet… Why does the thought of it with him not make me want to bolt? Why doesn’t it make me sick? Why do I feel safe? He eases me down into the tub, and I hiss at the heat until it wraps around me. He kneels beside the edge, dipping a washcloth and running it down my thighs, gentle and careful. He bathes me in silence. Cleans every inch of me like I’m something fragile and precious. His hands shake, but his touch never falters. We don’t talk. Not about what happened. Not about what might come next. Because if we do… something real might break open between us. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet. But I want to be. God help me, I think I want all of it.
“I can only deal with one thing at a time,” I say, my voice barely above the splash of water around me. I grip the edge of the tub and stare at my knees, trying not to unravel again. “And right now, the only thing I can handle is Hector.”
Johnny doesn’t say anything at first.
I can feel his eyes on me. He’s not angry, he’s just…. worried. So worried it hurts to look at him.
“I couldn’t let myself fall for you because I was afraid of pissing him off, but now this. I didn’t think it through. All I could think of was saving you. Getting the shoot done. I had some weird tunnel vision that was my desire to help you and be with you, wrapped all in one. ”
He reaches for my hand under the water, warm fingers curling around mine like a lifeline. He leans in, and presses his forehead to mine, “It’s ok. We are ok. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have knotted you. I’ve never lost control like that before.”
I close my eyes, letting his words settle deep into my bones. He lost control for me. The thought makes something hot and fierce bloom in my chest. But the silence breaks too quickly.
