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"N-No, I guess not."
He nipped me again. "Eoghan told me once that he’d only be okay with Inessa, his wife—although, knowing you, I guess you're well aware of who she is—going to the doctor’s office with him there. I get it now. I thought he was insane, but this is mine," he thundered in my ear, his hands delving between my silk-covered folds. "And I think you like the idea of that as much as I do," he whispered, his fingers finding slick pussy juices that really were unseemly.
I mean, he’d barely done anything other than say shit that’d piss any modern woman off, and yet, here I was, creaming like I was an eclair being squished in the middle.
My mouth trembled as I rasped, "Do I get to visit the doctor’s office with you?"
A chuckle escaped him. "Why do you never say what I think you will? Want to see me bent over as the fucker checks my prostate?"
Why did that make butterflies dance in my stomach?
"I wouldn’t say no." I moaned when he patted my pussy with the flat of his hand.
"Or do you want to be the one with your fingers in my ass, hmm?" he crooned. "That’ll take a lot of good behavior. Like ten years’ worth."
Dancing around his grip, trying to get him in a spot that directly affected my clit, I pouted. "That’s impossible. No one can behave for ten years."
"You’ll learn to, because otherwise I’ll die of a heart attack first."
I stilled. "Well, I don’t want that."
"No? Then, behave. Simple answer." Slowly, he leaned forward, which pushed me forward too. I let him, and groaned when the tie pulled on different areas, some pinching and some compressing the right spot. "If it were a longer tie, I’d have knots that bumped your clit." He hummed. "You’re going to look good tied up on my bed, Savannah. Maybe that’s one way to make sure you behave."
"D-Don’t you have anything here we can use?" I asked around a gasp, surprising myself by how he lowered my inhibitions.
He hesitated. "I’ve not been a saint, Savannah. Those things have touched other women, and nothing, and I mean, fucking nothing, that’s been used on anyone else is ever going to touch you."
I groaned. "You say stuff like that and it makes me melt."
"Good. I was born to make you melt." The nails of his spare hand scraped down my side, making goosebumps surge into being. "Just like you were born to make me burn."
I liked the idea of that. Still, I couldn’t let him get away with murder. "Sounds like a UTI."
He chuckled, but then he bit my throat, hard enough to mark.
"D-Don’t!" I complained. "Your parents will see."
"Good. The more marks on you, the more likelihood they’ll figure out what the fuck you mean to me without me having to spell shit out."
Tension eased in me, tension that came with relief and need that he made me feel with his wholehearted acceptance of something he’d been fighting for five years. The way I relaxed eased the pressure on the tie, and had it brushing up flat against my clit. I groaned, shuffling my legs together to take full advantage of the delicious sensations that the new position triggered in me, then he bit down on my shoulder and I arched up on tiptoe at the sweetly blissful pain his branding me triggered.
"Didn’t realize you were a werewolf."
"Gotta mark what’s mine," he grumbled in my ear.
"So long as it’s mutual," I muttered, then gasped when he rocked his dick into my ass.
"Yeah, it’s mutual. I expect it," he retorted, squeezing my tits together in his palms. "Never gave a fuck before, but now I want every pussy in Manhattan to know I’m taken."
Heat swirled inside me. "Y-You do?"
"O’Donnellys go big or go home."
"We’re at your home now," I pointed out on a rasp.
"Don’t be literal." I smirked as he bunched my breasts together again then moaned when he whispered, "Spread your legs wider."
I did as he asked, then recoiled at how that made the fabric dig into me. The way the silk went up my ass reminded me of the first time I’d worn a G-string, but the pressure on my clit was acute, borderline painful.
