AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Completely trapped, there was nothing I could do except let him devour me, torturing me with his lips and tongue as he lavished over me. Two fingers thrust deep inside and started working me- fast, relentless.
But before the orgasm that had my sex clenching could wash over me, he dropped my leg, got onto his feet, slipped on the condom and turned me around to face the window- naked body on full display for anyone across the river with some good vision or a mediocre telescope to see.
His feet kicked mine wider.
Then I felt his cock slide between my slick folds, hitting my clit, and making me let out a harsh moan.
His hand went up my back, finding the shirt where it spread from shoulder to shoulder, and pressing me forward slightly, making me angle my butt out toward him and putting my face just inches from the glass. His fingers snagged the material, bunching it in his hands, holding it tight so there was no way I could escape no matter how much I struggled.
Then his cock slid back and slammed deep in one hard thrust.
The force behind it made my body lurch forward, but he yanked back on the shirt and held me in place as he started to slam into me- rough, hard, fast- just like I had asked for.
My orgasm built impossibly fast, making my knees weak and my breath get caught in my throat.
"That's it," he growled, feeling me tighten around him. "Come."
And I did, screaming, literally screaming out his name as I did so.
He slammed into me through it, dragging it out, milking it for all it was worth. But after he paused and I came back down, he was still hard inside me.
Then, as if answering my unasked question, he slid out of me long enough to turn me, then slid back inside- slowly, so freaking slowly that I could feel every inch as he did so. He pulled my leg up, wrapping it around his hips, then reached to pull me free of the shirt I had been trapped in, my arms going automatically around him.
His hand went to my butt, forcing my other leg around his waist, and holding me to him as he walked across the living space and into the bedroom. His knees went on the bed then his body curled over mine as he lay me back, still inside me, our bodies never losing contact.
Propped up on his forearms, he leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to my lips, the sweetness of it I felt down to my soul. "Had it your way," he told me, slowly withdrawing out of me and just as slowly pressing back inside. "Now we're having it my way," he told me, doing another perfect, all-consuming stroke.
Then he had me his way.
And by the time I felt my orgasm cresting, I had decided it was my way as well.
Hell, I would take him any way he would have me- hard and fast and dominant or slow and sweet and loving.
I cried into his neck as I came and he cursed into mine as he did.
Perfect.
He left me for only a moment before coming back, pulling the covers slowly up my body and pulling me onto his chest, his hands sifting through my hair and down my spine.
"What?" I asked, sensing there was something weighing on the silence.
"The wolves backed down," he said cryptically, making me press up so I could look down at him.
"The wolves?" I asked, brows drawn together.
"Past couple of years, you've had wolves at your door, snarling, making you feel like you couldn't leave your house." He reached up, touching the side of my face, his eyes soft, but still somehow heavy with meaning. "They aren't snarling anymore."
He was right.
And, true, maybe psychologically, it was all exposure therapy, being forced out of the comfort zone enough to realize I wouldn't flip out or die outside of it.
But there had been one constant in each situation.
Ryan.
Perfect yet flawed, dominant yet sweet, sexy yet unassuming, understanding yet encouraging.
And I had a strong feeling somewhere deep inside that the snarling didn't necessarily stop because of some force inside of me.
It was him.
My own personal wolf tamer.EPILOGUEDusty- 1 day"I wouldn't have had Mark drop all this shit off if I realized the cookies wouldn't be for me," Ryan informed me from his position leaned against the counter, wearing only thick gray sweatpants and one of his white tees, his hair casually disheveled. That was all my fault. I had disheveled it. Happily. Enthusiastically. Roughly.
Sex was obviously involved.
"I am saving you some," I insisted, pouring the oil into the pan and putting the burner on under it.
I was making chruscikis, mainly because it was the only recipe I had made often enough to know it by heart since I didn't have my little recipe cards with me at the residence.
