“Dodger, what?” He laughs, and I discover that I like that sound a lot. He rolls me under him and grabs my wrists, holding them over my head. This time he doesn’t let go and my stomach does a delicious little swoop. “This was a thing of yours.”
“Uh, yeah. Suddenly makes way more sense why an alpha werewolf is my intended,” I realize. “Fate looked at my browser history.” I wriggle under him. “Come on, wolfy. Show me what you’ve got.”
He stares down at me, thinking it over. “If I shoved you against the wall and demanded you take my alpha dick and do as I say, you would hit me.”
“No, I—”
“You totally would.”
“Okay, yes,” I say, not bothering to deny it more. But this is different because, “I give you permission.”
His eyes turn dark and hot, and his voice goes low and a little bit wicked. Fuck, so hot. “Only because you asked so nicely.”
Harper growls and reaches for the bedside table where he pulls out a bottle of lube. I can’t even make fun of him for already unpacking his stuff even though we’ll only be here for the night. He flips open the cap on the lube one-handed, slicking his fingers while his other hand keeps me pinned to the mattress. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, the casual way he holds me down. Like it’s nothing to him, like my struggling means nothing against his strength. But fuck, it’s working for me.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, and the words send a jolt through me.
I reach down, wrapping my fingers around myself even as I question him. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Need this elsewhere.” He holds up his slick hand. “And this is making sure you behave.” His other hand presses my wrists down on the pillow, keeping me still. I buck up against his hold, testing him, and his grip tightens, pressing me back down with ease.
I stroke myself as slowly as I can endure, trying to match his pace as slick fingers circle my entrance. His eyes keep jumping, torn between watching me jack myself off and watching his fingers press into me. I buck up against him, trying to get more.
“Easy,” he says, pressing me back down with that same effortless strength. “Let me take care of you.”
“Then fucking take care of me already,” I growl.
Harper laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that I feel as much as hear. “You’re so damn impatient,” he huffs, but then he’sworking two fingers deeper now. When he crooks them just right, I jerk against his hold, a strangled sound escaping my throat.
“There we go,” he murmurs, satisfaction rich in his voice. He repeats the motion, and I can’t stop the moan that tears out of me.
“Fuck!” I cry out, bucking wildly against his hold. His hand on my wrist tightens, making it even better.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he says. “All spread out for me, fighting and wanting more at the same time.”
I want to snap back with something witty, but his fingers twist inside me and all that comes out is another embarrassing whimper.
His fingers work in a slow, maddening rhythm. Every few thrusts, he grazes that spot inside me, and my whole body jerks against his hold. Each time, he pushes me back down with that impossible strength, and each time, it sends another jolt of heat straight to my cock.
“More,” I gasp, stroking myself faster. “I’m not gonna break.”
“No,” he agrees, his golden eyes flashing with something primal. “But I might make you beg.”
He punctuates this by driving his fingers deep and curling them right against my prostate. The sensation is so intense that my back arches off the bed or tries to—Harper’s hand on my wrists and body over mine keeps me firmly pinned down.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, but it sounds more like a plea than an insult.
“That’s not begging,” he points out, repeating the motion with his fingers again. “I think you can do better than that.”
I’m writhing now, caught between his fingers inside me and my own hand working my cock. Sweat slicks my skin andI’m making noises I didn’t know I could make, desperate and wild.
“Please,” I finally gasp when he hits that spot again and holds there, the pressure unrelenting. “Fuck, Harper, please!”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop,” I manage to get out between ragged breaths. “Need to come. Let me come.”
“Go ahead,” he says, pressing more firmly against my prostate. “Show me how good it feels.”
