Page 128 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

None of my previous partners had filthy mouths. But of course my unhinged wolf did. It was so fitting and I wanted more of it. Wanted to see if I could break his control. See how far I could push him.

See what other things came out of that mouth.

I leaned forward, pressed a kiss to the base of his cock, then licked up his length. His hips jutted forward on instinct and he cursed, his hand finding my hair, tightening around the strands. Like he couldn’t bear to allow my retreat.

Which was fine. Because I wasn’t going anywhere. Not when he tasted so fucking perfect.

I took him into my mouth. As much as I could manage. He was too big to take completely but I tried, hollowing my cheeks and relaxing my throat.

The taste of his pre-come exploded on my tongue. Salt and musk and him.

The ache between my thighs intensified.

When my eyes darted up the length of his body, the sight of him staring down at me, face ravaged with hunger, made me moan around his cock.

“Fuck,” He sucked in a breath. “Do that again.”

I grinned around my mouthful and hummed. He moaned, his head falling back.

I took him deeper, all the way to the back of my throat, ignoring the sting, the tears that filled my eyes. I reminded my jaw to relax. To take him as deep as I could. I wanted to feel him everywhere.

“Fuck! That’s it.” His hips jerked forward, pushing deeper. “That’s my good girl.”

I moaned again, wrapping one hand around the back of his thigh for leverage, using the other to hold him at the base of his cock. Then I set to work, finding my rhythm, using his cues to guide me. His breathing turned ragged, fingers combing through my hair, alternating between massaging and gripping. Occasionally tightening. Occasionally pulling my head forward to thrust deeper before letting up, like he couldn’t quite resist the instinct to take control. Like he was fighting a battle with himself. Fighting the urge to fuck my mouth like he wanted to.

God, I wanted him to. I wanted him to overpower me. To snap. To let go of that tightly leashed control.

But we’d get there. When he discovered I wasn’t a delicate flower. When he learned that it would take much more than him fucking my mouth. For now, I continued to show him that he was mine.

“Been dreaming about this.” His voice was strained. “Your mouth taking me—fuck⁠—“

I whimpered around him. The sound made him curse. I could feel him getting thicker, throbbing against my tongue. Getting close.

I freed one hand and reached between his thighs, cradling his balls. Gently pulling.

“Bloody fuck—” His voice was raw as he reached down, pulling me off him and hauling me up. I released his cock with a pop of my lips and a little whine.

“Enough.” He looked at me with yellow wolf eyes now. “When I come, it’s going to be inside you. Damn it, Rebecca. I want to know where the fuck you learned to do that, but I can’t let you tell me, or I’ll demand every name of every man who has ever touched you and their fate will be the same as that bastard last night.”

Molten hot desire dumped into me. The sight of him jealous—it turned me on more than I cared to admit.

He grasped my ass and lifted me up onto the kitchen counter, hands already pushing up the overlarge shirt on my frame. I raised my arms and he yanked it off. His gaze raked over me.

“Fucking perfect, little witch.” He stepped between my thighs, spreading them wide. Then he leaned in and took my nipple between his lips, reaching for the other with his free hand. His tongue flicked over the taut bud and I moaned, arching into him.

I was so sensitive. Aching with need.

He sucked, pinching my other sensitive bud and rolling it around between his fingers. Sparks shot straight to my pussy. I rocked my hips, trying to press closer. He did it again and again, kneading one breast while sucking on the other. I tightened everywhere.

“Bet you could come from just that, huh?”

“Yes—no. I don’t…”

“Don’t worry, we can test the theory another time. There will be plenty of opportunity for it.”

His hand slid down my stomach, between my legs. When his fingers found my slick folds, he made a low sound.

“Feckin’ hell, you’re soaked.” He circled my clit and I gasped. “Did sucking my cock get you this wet, sweetheart?”