Page 99 of Taken By The Wolves
Finn’s behind me, a strong and steady presence, hands pressed to my lower back in broad, comforting circles. He murmurs something low into my hair, something meant to soothe, but I can’t hear it over the rush of blood roaring in my ears.
Reed returns with towels and blankets, laying them out calmly under Goldie’s supervision. His face is pale but focused. He kneels beside me, brushing a damp wave from my forehead, his other hand bringing a cool cloth to my neck.
Goldie guides me to my knees, urging me to bend over the sofa for support. “This position will help with the pressure. Breathe, Scarlet, and try to relax. That’s all you have to do. Let your body do the rest.”
I close my eyes and lean forward, fists clenching into the cushions, hissing through clenched teeth. Relax? Is she high?
The next contraction comes sharp and fast, and I cry out, but Finn’s hands don’t leave my back. Reed murmurs soft encouragement from beside me.
“We’ve got you” Nixon says. “We’re here. All of us. You’re safe. “
I nod, a slight motion, as another wave of pain grips me and I moan through it, loud and primal and utterly unconcerned with anything but the need topush.
Goldie peels away my wet underwear, and I’m so grateful to have another woman who’s been through this to support me that it isn’t weird.
Time seems to blur the space between my birthing pains like I’m underwater as I pant and focus to regain my strength, then the tightening agony grips me so violently, I lose all connections to the world around me.
Goldie hands Finn something. “It’s a sex toy. Use it on Scarlet to improve her pain. I’m going to take Ahya outside and call Hunter.”
“Are you sure?” Finn says, his voice high with disbelief.
I pant like a crazy person, eyes fixed to a crumb on the sofa.
“I’m sure. Trust me. It’s all about happy, pain-relieving hormones.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound sure, studying the thing like an unexploded bomb that’s suddenly appeared in his palm.
Goldie closes the door behind her, and then Finn kisses my temple and whispers, “Goldie has recommended helping you to orgasm to help with pain relief. She’s given me one of her weird fruit-shaped toys.”
“Nothing’s going up there,” I gasp. “Somethings about to come out.”
“It’s for your clit,” he laughs.
“It’ll help,” Nixon says firmly. “The power of the female orgasm. It’s the goddess's gift to women.”
“Maybe she should have focused on painless childbirth instead,” I grumble. Then, as I’m almost flattened by another gripping wave of pain, I gasp, “Anything… just… oh fuck.”
Finn’s hands move between my legs. His finger searches out my clit, then he latches a clit sucker on and holds it to me. It’s strange when the first flutters of pleasure rise from beneath so much pain, but as the contraction subsides, the pleasure overtakes its clutches and I moan, rocking intoFinn’s hand. “That’s it, Scarlet,” he says. “Let yourself feel good.”
I moan, low and deep, more like a cow than a woman, but the toy is clever, and it varies its sucking action, edging me closer. Another contraction builds, but the pain is muted by pleasure. Reed’s hand caresses my back in long, slow swoops, and I moan again, gripping the edge of the sofa cushions desperately.
“Let go,” Finn says, and I’m so close, I can taste the release on the back of my tongue. I clamp down, my pussy constricting in wave after wave of pleasure that swamp the next rising contraction, making it bearable.
“Was that good?” Nixon asks.
“So good,” I murmur.
“You want more?” Finn asks, easing it from between my legs.
“Maybe. Give me a few minutes. “
He chuckles, lowering the toy and placing it on the towel between my legs. I hang my head, letting my hair pool around me, imagining my sons making their way into the world, trying to picture the boys and wolves they will be. Will they be stoic and controlled like Nixon, funny and clever like Reed, or caring and insightful like Finn? Will they have my creativity, or my desire for adventure? Will they have my mom’s caution or my father’s fiery temperament? Maybe they’ll be unique: dreamers, poets, pioneers. Perhaps they’ll challenge the status quo like their sister.
As my belly contracts again, the movement and pressure between my legs intensifies. “Get Goldie,” I groan.
When she returns, Ahya is handed to Nixon, and she kneels behind me with her phone in hand. After two contractions, she declares, “The contractions are only aminute apart. She’s close and doing beautifully. “
“Where’s the damn midwife?” Nixon huffs.
