Page 102 of The Enemy to the Living
Doesn’t matter. Nothing does except the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of our panting breaths in the increasingly lightening room. Quinn lets go of his cock when he curls his fingers and finds my prostate. I groan aloud, back arching, and he surges up and over me, taking my mouth in another brain-melting kiss.
“I’m ready,” I whisper against his lips. My hands are shaking with it where they run over his skin. “Don’t make me beg.”
I’m not against the idea. Quinn shakes his head all the same. “Never,” he says back, just as softly, then pulls his fingers free.
I only have a second to mourn the loss. He’s as impatient as I am now when he grabs me by the hips again. I hardly have time to catch my breath. His cock presses against me, then in and in and in, stretching me wider, filling me up. I throw one arm around his shoulders and wrap my legs around his hips. I want to be as close to him as I can possibly get.
“Asher,” Quinn moans. His wolf is back, silver shining at the edge of his irises. “Asher.”
“I know, darling,” I say, though I can hardly string the words together myself. “Move.”
He kisses me when he does, and my first desperate cry is muffled against his mouth. Good as it feels, it takes us a moment to find the right rhythm—probably not helped by the way I’m clinging to him, truth be told—and when Quinn’s cock hits my prostate, I tear my mouth away to cry out in pleasure.
“Fuck,” he mutters when I clench hard around him.
“Fuckme.”
“I’m trying,” Quinn says, voice tapering off into a laugh, even as he keeps moving. I don’t know how experienced he is, and right now, I don’t care. He feels perfect—better than any man I’ve ever fucked because I know he’s all mine, and I’m his, too.
Of course all good things have to end, and I’m surprised by how long we hold out. I dig my heels into Quinn’s lower back as he moves faster, and when he bites my throat, I’m certain his wolf is rippling under his skin.
“God, Asher,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna…”
“Yeah?” I press our sweaty foreheads together and when I capture his lower lip between my teeth, he whimpers.
“Yeah.”
“Do it, pup. Mark me. Inside and out.”
He growls and leans back at first, hips slapping against my arse as he loses himself to pleasure. I squeeze his pecs, then pinch his nipples when that only makes his mouth drop open on a whine. Maybe this isn’t rushing things. I’ve so much to learn about him in this way, too.
Quinn lowers his head and sets his teeth to my throat just a second before he comes. His hips jerk, cock rutting in and out as he fills my insides with his cum. I thread my fingers through the short hair on the back of his head, keeping his mouth at my throat. I want a bruise that will last.
Quinn’s hand worms between our bodies, and when he sucks hard, he strokes me, and the pleasure that has been flooding my veins finally explodes. I yell his name, and for a moment, I think I might pass out, body gone all heavy as blood thunders through my veins.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I don’t know how much time has passed. Quinn licks over the throbbing mark he’s left on my neck and then rests on top of me, uncaring of the mess smeared over our skin.
“You good?” he murmurs. He’s a warm, heavy weight, and I don’t want him to move, though we’ll have to at some point. I wrap my arms around his middle.
“Yeah. You?”
“Better than I’ve been in ages.” He rests his chin on my chest, looking up at me. “Can I stay here tonight? Today?”
“You don’t have to ask. Of course. You’re my mate.”
He smiles. “I don’t want to presume.”
I huff at that, and his smile only widens. I’ll train it out of him—out of both of us—in time, but there is a thought tickling the back of my mind that I need to ask about.
“You’re not afraid of going back to them, are you?”
Quinn frowns. He’s tracing over the rose on my hip with the tips of his fingers. “Who?”
“Your pack.”
“No.” The frown deepens. “I don’t think so, no.”
“I know you’ve all had issues, but they care about you. I don’t think they meant to miss all of this.”
