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It was so intimate and unexpected that I started to sit up, but he met my gaze and said, quietly but with authority, “You’re not getting up until I give you permission. Understood?” I nodded and settled back down.
He licked my crack again and lapped at my hole while I tried not to squirm. Then he slid his tongue into me, and I moaned as my cock throbbed.
“Please, can I?” My words came out choppy and desperate. Somehow he knew what I meant. He grasped the backs of my thighs and pushed my legs up and apart, freeing my hands so I could jerk myself off.
He licked and sucked and tongue-fucked my asshole while I worked my cock fast and hard. It was almost too much—all that pleasure, all that sensation, combined with the warm throb of my spanked ass. The fact that I was on the dresser instead of the bed just added to it. I was on display for him, served up for his pleasure.
I was just about to drive myself over the edge when he said, “You don’t come until I give you permission. Understand?” I whimpered, but then I forced myself to let go of my cock, and he murmured, “That’s very good, mi amor.”
He went back to eating my ass while I moaned and leaked precum and uselessly bucked my hips, desperate for friction but thrusting into thin air. When he ran his tongue over my balls and up my shaft, the sound I made was close to a sob of relief.
Elias took my cockhead in his mouth and sucked hard, then let go of it. He then proceeded to drive me right to the brink of orgasm and pull me back, again and again. It was the most exquisite agony I could ever imagine.
My cock was rock-hard, aching, throbbing, as he licked and sucked me, stroked me, fingered me. I arched off the dresser, crying out as he took me to the edge again, sucking my balls as his fingers pushed into my ass and massaged my prostate. “Please, Eli,” I begged, when I thought I was about to lose my mind. “Please. I need to come.”
Finally, finally, he said, “Go ahead, baby. Come for me,” and wrapped his lips around my cock.
I yelled as I exploded down his throat, my entire body convulsing as wave after wave of that massive orgasm destroyed me. Moans that were more like sobs tore from me as I fucked his mouth. I grabbed his head with both hands, my legs over his shoulders as he swallowed me whole. I couldn’t think, couldn’t even see as that orgasm just kept rolling through me, taking everything I had.
By the time it finally ebbed, I was shattered. My body went limp as I gasped for breath, still splayed out on that dresser. Elias picked me up and cradled me against his chest as he carried me across the room. He felt so good—solid and strong and warm. I nestled against him, and he climbed into bed, leaning against the pillows with me on his lap.
When I could manage to string a sentence together, I whispered, “What about you?”
“I enjoyed every minute of that.”
“But you didn’t get to finish.”
“Next time. This time, I just wanted to focus on you,” he said.
I wove my fingers with his and drifted along for a while, tired and content and happy. Eventually, I murmured, “Tell me something no one else knows about you.”
“Like what?”
“Anything at all. I want to know everything about you, Eli.”
“Here’s something no one knows about me. I’m a musician.”
I looked up at him and asked, “What instrument do you play?”
“Several, but the piano is my favorite.”
“Will you play for me sometime?”
He nodded. “You’re the only person I’d play for.”
“Don’t you like performing for an audience?”
“I can’t stand it,” he said.
“Why is that?”
“Performing strips me bare.” He rested our joined hands on his chest, and after a moment he said, “My mother taught me to play. She was an incredible singer and musician. I associate it so strongly with her memory that it’s become a very personal thing.”
I asked, very softly, “What happened to your parents?”
“They were murdered by a hunter who discovered they were both part werewolf.”
“Oh god.”
“My mother was an opera singer and my father was a painter. You’d never meet two kinder, gentler souls,” he said. “But there have always been people who believe our kind is inherently evil, and who’ve tried to hunt us to extinction.”
“How was their secret discovered?”
“Take a guess. Who’d be able to recognize someone with werewolf blood?”
“Someone who was also part werewolf?” When he nodded, I exclaimed, “That’s barbaric! He was hunting his own kind. How could anyone do that?”
“Self-hate, maybe? I don’t know. I didn’t bother to ask.”
I met his gaze and asked, “Did you kill him?”
