“Impatient,” he murmurs against my lips.
“You’re too slow. Feeling tired, old man?” I tease. “It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it?”
Harper’s eyebrow arches. “It’s nine o’clock.”
“Exactly. You must be exhausted. You are fifty years older than me after all—”
“Fifteen years,” he objects sharply, but there’s amusement lurking behind the indignation.
“And we wouldn’t want you to hurt your back or break a hip.”
My fingers trace the exposed skin of his chest, and Harper’s low growl vibrates against my hand. “I’m a werewolf, Dodger. Fragility and fatigue aren’t exactly an issue.”
Got me there. Last time it seemed like he could have gone all night, held me down with one strong hand while the other worked me open, his fingers driving me to the edge over and over while I bucked and strained against his grip, powerless to do anything but take what he was giving me.
Tonight, however, I want to watch this powerful Alpha come apart under my touch.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “You just relax and I’ll get down on my knees and do all the work.”
“That so?” His voice has dropped an octave, rough around the edges. “I won’t refuse.”
My hands explore the contours of his chest, trailing over defined pectorals, brushing against nipples that harden under my touch. His arousal stands out, proud and heavy between his thighs. My mouth waters at the sight of him.
“Bed,” I say, giving him a gentle push in the right direction. It’s piled high with pillows and quilts, looking impossibly inviting. “Sit.”
Harper doesn’t argue, just backs up until his calves hit the edge of the mattress and then sits, watching me with those golden eyes that seem to see right through me. I get rid of my own clothes and step between his spread knees. I run my fingers through his dark blond hair, marveling at its softness.
“You’re gorgeous,” I tell him, because it’s true, and because the faint flush that rises to his cheeks at the compliment is too adorable to resist.
I lean down and capture his mouth again, kissing him deep and slow, the way he kissed me earlier. I pour everything I can’t say into that kiss—my wonder at finding him, my relief that things are better than ever between us, my fear that this might not last.
The wooden floor is hard beneath my knees when I sink down, but I barely notice, too focused on the man in front of me and how his eyes darken as he watches me. I wrap my hand around his length, feeling the silky smooth skin over steel hardness.
When I give him one slow stroke, his eyelashes flutter for a second. I lower my mouth to Harper’s cock, and the first touch of my tongue against him draws a sharp intake of breath.
“Dodger… keep going…”
I take my time, tracing the length of him with long, slow licks from base to tip, mapping every vein and every ridge. I circle the crown with the tip of my tongue, collecting the first drops of precum that taste like salt and musk.
“Fuck. Yes…” His hands rest on the rumpled quilt, fingers curled into the fabric like he’s anchoring himself. “You… good…”
He’s big and thick and it’s a good thing I like a challenge. I set a steady rhythm, taking him deep, then swirling my tongue around the head on each pull back.
He growls and watches me, his eyes so dark I’d need a magnifying glass or shifter vision to find the remaining color there. Not really surprising that Harper is a wolf of few words, but there are other options. I pull back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet sound that echoes in the quiet cabin.
“You’re allowed to participate, you know,” I tell him, my voice rougher than I expected. I clear my throat. “Let me know if you’re enjoying yourself. Pull my hair, use your hips, anything.”
“Is that what you want?” he asks. “For me to pull your hair?”
My cock throbs at his words. “Yeah,” I admit. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Something flashes in his eyes, something primal and possessive that makes my skin prickle with anticipation. I lean forward and take him back into my mouth. His hand settles on top of my head, fingers threading through my long black hair. He tugs just enough to send a pleasant sting across my scalp. I lose myself in it, his cock filling my mouth and his hand controlling my movements.
His other hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing the stretched corner of my lips where they’re wrapped around him. “Good,” he murmurs, and the simple praise shouldn’t affect me so much, but it does, lighting me up from inside. “So good, Dodger.”
I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder, and Harper rewards me with another tug on my hair that sends electricity racing down my spine. When I take him particularly deep, feeling him in my throat, his hand tightens in my hair and holds me there. Just for a second, he’s already pulling back before I even register what’s happening.
“Is that okay?” he asks immediately.
