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I grab her by her thighs, pulling them towards me, and watching her fall back on the bed, her legs in the air, ankles resting behind my head. "Yes, I can."
"W-Wait, that’s not––" her protest is cut off when I lick along her slit. I do it again and again, and she lets out a sound I've not heard before. It's a pleading whine, and it's music to my ears. I dive in, using my tongue to stir her into a frenzy. Her cries are broken whimpers and moans as I teach her what my tongue can do.
Her first orgasm has her screaming out the name 'Adrian'. I tighten my jaw. I want it to be my name. I want her to cry out my name. I want her to know whose hands are touching her. Ibite down on her inner thigh in punishment, but she's quivering from the aftermath of the orgasm and just sighs.
I have to take it slow so as not to scare her, but as I move up her body, I use my fingers, inserting one in. My finger glides right in since she's wet and dripping, but the tightness of her hole makes me want to insert something else inside. She's trembling, her eyes on mine, worry in them.
"Can you take off your shirt?" she manages to ask while my finger is still inside her.
"Why don't you take it off for me?" I suggest.
As she moves forward, her lips part in an 'o' sound, my finger now deeper in because of how she moved.
"N-Never mind," she moans.
"Fuck, you're sexy," I whisper hoarsely, grabbing her by her nape and slamming my mouth down on hers. As I kiss her, I free my hands and tear off my clothes one by one. When I finally have her ready, I push myself inside her, slowly. She stiffens for a moment, her pleasure-hazed expression being replaced by one of discomfort. My hands busy themselves on the most sensitive parts of her, my eyes greedily taking in her expression as I take my fated mate's innocence.
As she takes me inside her, she looks breathtaking. I move slowly, letting her get used to me. She's so tight and wet that it's taking every ounce of restraint within me not to take my pleasure. However, her expressions make me want to move even slower. As a look of helpless pleasure forms on her face, she whimpers, and I want to see it again and again. There is suchinnocence in her movements, such curiosity and desire that I want to show her the world.
It's when her nails dig into my arms that I know she's ready.
Her cries as I move faster and harder are delicious, and my mouth descends on her neck. I can feel the urge to mark her. I'm her first, and I want to be her only. It's a backward mindsight, but when wolves are faced with an untouched fated mate, male or female, the desire to mark them is much stronger. It's hard to resist, and I gently press down on the spot where she would receive my mating mark.
As soon as I do, she grows wild, wrapping her legs around me, her pussy tightening around my cock. My mind turns blank as I hold her down, thrusting into her, mindlessly, seeking my pleasure, chasing hers. She breaks first, and when she does, she screams my name.
It's the wrong name, but I don't mind anymore.
I just know that I won't be satisfied by just one night with her. I want to taint her purity with the darkness inside me. I want her a disheveled mess. I want her under me, around me, and I don't know how to fulfill all these urges. This isn't enough. I want more. I want everything.
I hold my own climax back as I drive her over the edge again and again. She's panting and pleading, exhausted, but I don't give her any reprieve. I bite down on her shoulder when I finally climax, but as I drag her trembling body on top of mine, I smooth back her dark hair, smiling darkly at her now relaxing form.
She thinks we're done.
We've only just begun.
***
I stir and roll over on my back.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling for a few seconds.
I feel satisfied, almost as if a missing part of me has finally returned. When I roll over, however, there's no one there. A frown on my face, I touch Anna's side of the bed, and it's cold. Her scent has close to faded, and when I look at the open window, I realize it was a deliberate act.
Did she really just leave?
She should've been in severe discomfort. How did she manage to walk out of here?
Or maybe I'm wrong. I'm already striding toward the bathroom as the desperate hope strikes me, but she's not inside. There's evidence of someone having taken a shower, though.
I stumble back to the bedroom and sink heavily onto the bed, running my hands over my face.
As my eyes drift to the side table, I see an odd sight.
There's a hundred-dollar bill folded neatly and tucked under the lamp. Blinking, I take it out to make sure I'm not seeing things. It really is a hundred-dollar bill. My eyes close and incredulous laughter splutters out of me.
She left me money?
I don't know whether to be insulted or amused over the fact that she left me money like I’m some sort of hooker or that shethought I was only worth a hundred dollars. The very idea of being paid for sex by my own fated mate is beyond ludicrous, and despite the situation, I can't help but bury my head in my hands as I sit on the bed and laugh. There's nothing else I can do aside from that.
