Page 83 of Hungry Like the Wolf

“Shhh, baby,” he said, mouthing at her clit the way he’d kissed her, slowly and thoroughly and deeply. “I’m here. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that it wasn’t going to be okay. He would have to leave her and that nothing would ever be okay again, especially not after this, after having him one last time, after having heard him call her his mate, something she hadn’t known she’d wanted and yet apparently had. She’d wanted it so bad that just hearing the word—mate—made her pulse pound in her throat.

But with a dizzying quickness, he took the gusset of her panties in his fists and ripped them apart, burying his face in her uncovered cunt like he’d been starving and she was the first food he’d seen in weeks. The metaphor was painfully ironic as that was what he actually was for her.

She cried out as he sucked her clit into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth.

“Robbie,” she panted, her chest heaving, her fingers wrapped around the long hanks of his hair, pulling so hard that she worried about hurting him, but every time she pulled, he groaned as if it was the best feeling in the world.

He flicked his tongue against her clit so rapidly that she shrieked from the stimulation. She was so sensitive already and he’d only just begun.

“Robbie,” she said, her words sticking in her throat, “Robbie, I need…”

Something. She didn’t even know how to say it. She needed more. More fullness. More pressure. More heat. More of him.

He nodded against her cunt, his tongue dipping into her channel as his nose rubbed against her clit. It wasn’t enough. She squirmed and whined again in protest but then he shoved two thick fingers into her core, the digits sliding easily into her slick tightness. He drew back enough to look at her, his fingers curled so that they rubbed against her g spot with every thrust. He pistoned his fingers in and out of her with a speed that had her gaping at him, watching his muscles flex and bunch with the effort.

She felt the rising tide of her climax and pulled his hair, shoving his face down to her pussy once more.

He groaned against her clit, sucking on it gently, his thrusting fingers gone still.

She groaned, so close, so very close to the edge and yet not close enough.

“Robbie, she said, breathy and desperate. “Robbie, please.”

He nodded, curling his fingers harder in that come-hither motion and moving them slowly in and out of her as he tongued and sucked on her clit.

Her orgasm began as heat. Pure, nuclear heat that began in her feet and skull and radiated outward, moving toward her core, where they’d meet in the middle, where they’d detonate. She gasped when the feeling broke over her, when her muscles clenched against his fingers rhythmically, over and over again, as her body shook and her cunt felt like it was on fire.

“Robbie!” she shrieked, pulling his head back by her grip on his hair when the sensation became too much.

His beard was soaked with her wetness, and he licked his lips slowly, never breaking the hold his eyes had on hers. The fan turned on, the hum of electricity the bass line for the percussion of their heaving breaths.

“Robbie,” she said, whispered to him, to the room, to this bigness between them that she couldn’t understand.

“Doc,” he said and slid his fingers out of her sheath, lifting them to his mouth and sucking them clean, his gaze locked on hers the entire time. “What do you need?”

What did she need? Certainly not to feed. Her body was vibrating with energy for the first time in weeks. Full and powerful and strong and near bursting. But she wanted more. She’d always want more.

If this was the last time, she could be greedy. She’d allow herself that.

He cocked his head to the side in an almost puppy-like way. “What does my mate need?”

“I’m not your mate,” she said again, which felt more itchy and wrong every time she said it.

He narrowed his eyes at her, scratched at his chest. Good god, he was still fully clothed. Kneeling on the floor between her naked thighs, inches from her naked cunt, her shirt pulled up to her chin to reveal her bralette. When had he done that? She hadn’t even noticed.

“What. Does. My. Mate. Need?”

He was kneeling high now, his eyes level with hers, his stomach pressing against her still quivering core.

“Stop calling me that,” she said. “It hurts when you call me that.”

“It hurts when you tell me not to.”

She felt the tears rising again, hot and unbidden. She blinked, trying to clear them, and he pulled her close to him, pulled her off the chair, on top of his body, until she was sitting on his thighs again as she’d been before. He tugged on the hem of her shirt, drawing it over her head. Her bralette followed next. And then she was naked in his lap. Her palms rested on his chest, and beneath them, she felt the steady pounding of his heart.

“Doc,” he said. “You’re?—”