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His fingers left me, and I whimpered. Lifting my hips, I desperately tried to line him up, but he pulled back and slid his length through my wet slit but not inside. The friction of his cock stroking over my clit had me rubbing against him, blindly seeking.
Slow and steady, he continued to slide along me as he buried his face in my neck. His hot breath fanned my throat, and I tilted my head, silently begging him to put his lips to my flesh. Gloved hands caressed everywhere he could reach.
As he moved his hips, I dropped my hips on his backward stroke, quickly shifting the angle of my pelvis to capture the head of his cock. Then I used my heels to press into his ass as I drove upward and impaled myself on his thick shaft.
“Yes,” I sighed in satisfaction.
“Oh fuck. God fucking damn.” He gasped. “That feels so good.”
He canted his hips, then drove hard into my heat. The warm, smooth feel of his cock stroking the walls of my pussy was sheer perfection. I’d never had anyone feel the way he did. In the past few years I tried to find that feeling with other people, but no one ever measured up.
This. This right here was the best—and proof we were made for each other.
He pushed up to brace his weight on his arms as his hips worked harder and faster. Dark brown eyes locked on mine and seemed to say all the things his words didn’t.
“Harder,” I demanded.
His eyes flared before they became intense, and he pounded into me in a relentless rhythm. The slap of flesh was rapid and punishing but wasn’t hard enough. It was in that moment that I realized I’d never get enough of him. He could never fuck me hard enough, or deep enough, or long enough. I’d always be greedy and want more of his cock in me. I wanted him everywhere. I wanted him to erase everything but how he filled me.
Yet, each bruising thrust drove me closer to something I hadn’t experienced since that first night—an undeniable soul-deep connection. With Nico, it was more than sex. This was something all-consuming and perfect.
Relentless, he fucked me as the ripples intensified and my muscles began to quiver. Suddenly it was there—an explosion of utter bliss. My body curled in on itself as I sought to wrap myself around that feeling and hold it as long as I could.
As my pussy clutched his shaft and spasmed violently, he slowed, drawing out that amazing ecstasy. Only when I collapsed back on the bed did he pause. Panting, he started down at me with passion burning in the windows to his soul.
Sweat left a sheen on his skin as he hovered over me. My fingertips trailed over the designs inked into his chest. Then my body shook with one last ripple of euphoria.
He slowly moved again, and I gasped. A wicked grin tilted his lips before he flipped us over so I straddled his hips. My hands slapped to his chest to balance me, and I let out a surprised “oh!” when he snapped his hips up and his cock drove so deep, I saw stars.
“Ride me,” he demanded as he gripped my thighs.
And I did. With each downward movement, he rose and his cock went so deep my face tingled as my eyes rolled.
“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Fuck me. Come for me, baby.”
My next orgasm built slower but was no less explosive as I felt the gush soak us both. My head hung as my chin pressed into my chest and my shoulders folded in. Nails digging into him, I shuddered with the force of my climax.
But we weren’t done. The man was a beast. He lifted me off, causing me to whimper at the loss, but it wasn’t for long.
Before I knew it, he had my face down, ass in the air, and he was plowing into my pussy. Nothing mattered but how good he made me feel. With each thrust, he drove out the bad and filled me with his light. As his rhythm faltered, I knew he was close.
His breathing became ragged, and his fingers dug into my flesh until suddenly he withdrew. I protested, but the hot splash of his cum as it hit my back and my ass reminded me we’d been foolish.
Too bad I couldn’t find it in me to care.
He rolled us to the side and wiped his release off me with what I assumed was his T-shirt. Then he cradled me in his arms. My fingers laced with his glove-clad ones, and I felt true peace for the first time in years.
As I snugged into his body, I saw what looked like a sketchbook on his side table. Curious, I leaned forward and grabbed it.
“You draw?” I asked, surprised.
“Hey, give me that,” he said as he reached to pluck it from my hands. “Of course I draw. I’m a tattoo artist,” he said with a huff.
I sat up to keep it out of his reach while I opened it. He sighed and fell back to the bed as he threw an arm over his eyes.
Flipping through page after page of my likeness, I was stunned by what I saw. Every so often there was a drawing of a wolf. I knew it was the same wolf because in each one there was a notch in one ear. Seeing those drawings reminded me of the dream I had of the wolf. That quickly faded when I realized he’d drawn me from memory and with incredible recall of those memories.
“These are me! What the hell, Chains? Does my brother know you have this?” The dates started after our first time together.
