Exhibit A: mirror.
No reason to relocate as far as I’m concerned.
“I brought a condom,” is my answer to his question, and I slip the foil packet from my back pocket and slap it on the counter. The contraceptive used to be in a box in my purse, but when I was leaving work, I decided to keep one close to me.
The werewolf’s body tenses, and then he unbuttons my pants, pushing them and my underwear down only as far as my knees. I’m wondering if he wants me to kick them off the rest of the way when a touch passes over my center.
Then all thoughts leave my head, replaced by a steady chant of,Yes, yes, yes …
The kiss got me excited, brought about a dampness in my panties. But when Roderick navigates to my clit, I truly get wet. Like did-I-just-jump-in-a-lake wet.
“Gods, yes.” I try to spread my legs wide, but my half-discarded clothes keep my knees pinned. The restriction is half frustration, half excitement.
Did he mean to keep me bound like this?
My hips rock against the counter, and I start to feel empty.
“I need you.” My words are desperate.
“Soon,” he murmurs, refusing to meet my eyes in the mirror. Instead, Roderick’s stare is pointed down, locked on his hand and where it plays with my body’s pleasure.
A whimper sneaks out of my throat as I press back against his touch, wanting more.
Then Roderick drops to his knees, and I only have time to gasp before his tongue takes the place of his fingers.
I’ve never been a religious woman, but suddenly, I find myself praying.
That is, until I can’t speak anymore. There comes a point in time when my whole world is Roderick’s hot breath on my core. That world soon explodes when my orgasm hits. A werewolf asteroid of ecstasy laid waste to Planet Earth.
My knees give out, but a strong grip on my waist keeps me standing. When I finally blink the blurriness from my eyes, I glance at the mirror and spy Roderick standing behind me, supporting me. Watching me.
His eyes are black. For the first time in years, the sight is erotic to me.
Without breaking his stare, he picks up the condom.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Now.” That second was more like a growl and carries the silent agreement we have.
I’m the alpha.
In response, Roderick grunts an animalistic noise.
Briefly, he lets me go, and I discover my knees can hold me as long as I lock them in place and brace my hands on the counter.
Watching Roderick strip off his clothes and then slide on the condom has me feeling like a voyeur.
Suited up, he steps back up behind me. With callous fingers brushing over my now-sensitive skin, the werewolf finishes divesting me of my bra, my jeans, and the matching underwear I’m glad I put on this morning. A chill teases over me, and I fail at suppressing a shiver.
Not that I need to worry about being cold when his hot body returns almost immediately. Roderick’s hands find my waist, his grip firm, the heated touch pressing against me until I swear his fingers will melt into my bones.
Then his touch shifts. One wide palm spreads over my stomach, another mirroring the move on my back. He’s holding me in place, positioning me for?—
“Oh gods,” I moan, my lids fluttering, almost losing sight of him.
Roderick’s erection slips along my folds, painting itself with my wetness, all in preparation for when he pushes inside. The entry is slow, measured, and has me choking on a gasp.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low, soothing, and with just a hint of strain on the last syllable.
Good to know I’m not the only one losing my mind.
