A Study on the Sex Life of a Werewolf's Mate

Chapter 6: Not Yet

Looking down at her laid out before him? Sprawled and flushed and wanton before him, her luscious body bare and needy and clearly aching for him, her gaze dark and molten and very clearly hungry. It was intoxicating. His mouth felt dry, his cock aching it was so hard and eager in his fist even as a growl vibrated deep in his chest. She was glorious. And she was all his.

His mate.

In all ways but one.

The one way she wasn't ready for yet.

She was soaked and panting - her luscious breasts heaving and sex glistening - needing him to satisfy her, to sate her.

The muscles of his abdomen tensed, his bollocks aching.

Fuck, the anticipation was exhilarating.

But the feel of her was even better.

He struggled to swallow back a decidedly canid whine, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut at the way her cunt gripped the head of his cock alone, trembling from the sheer force of will it took to hold himself in check as he pressed into her.

Her gasping moan severely tested his mettle, his hips twitching against the urge to rut into her with feral abandon, to listen to his wolf's most primal instincts to do his best to fuck her full of his pups, full moon or no.

But his desire to take his time, to savour every squirm and whimper, to make her writhe and claw at him in tormented ecstasy was stronger.

Because fuck, his mate was glorious when her blood was up.

Doubly so when it was like this.

Her whine as he slowly pushed forward was pure music, her cunt clenching tight as she arched, her hips bucking in a futile effort to pull him deeper, her face screwed up with frustrated dismay at his restraint. His jaw clenched, aching, his pulse thundering in his ears and his cock, the pressure and slick heat engulfing him pure, unbearable bliss.

So fucking good.

There was something captivating in watching his length sliding out and back into her as he began to move, disappearing a little more with each stroke only to reappear, glistening and slick from within her quaking cunt.

Her dark eyes like embers, glowing and hot enough to burn fixed as they were on his, drawing him in. Her legs tightened around his flexing hips, her fingers digging sharply into his arms, begging him with her wordless, panting whines to go deeper, faster, harder.

To make her his.

How could he do anything but comply with such a sweet-sounding demand?

So he did. Eagerly.

Heat boiled beneath his skin, pulsing and flaring in his veins, intensifying lower and lower to where they joined, sweat-slicked flesh flushed and flexing, undulating and heaving as they moved together.

Slow, deep thrusts soon gave way to rapid, jolting plunges, his hips snapping wildly into hers as her body seemed intent on consuming him whole.

He would eagerly comply with that too.

All too soon, fire bloomed at the base of his spine and his balls clenched. With a grunt and a surge of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, his release surged and overcame him. Going rigid, he bucked hard, sheathing himself as deep as he could with a snarl, hips grinding into hips as he spilled against her womb.

It took everything in him to resist the ache in his jaw as his canines threatened to lengthen, the mouth-watering instinct to sink his teeth into her supple flesh and mark her as his, always and forever, nearly overwhelming him.

But it wasn't the right time; the moon was waning, nor was it at its peak; his inner wolf subdued even as it howled furiously for him to claim his mate properly. 

And she hadn't asked it of him.

Not yet.

But she would.

The way she quaked and pressed against his teeth grazing the juncture of her shoulder told him it was only a matter of time.

Under him, around him, she arched and writhed, clamping painfully tight around him as he emptied himself, her core spasming and body trembling and quaking as she cried out her own release, her nails on his shoulders drawing blood.

And he loved every second.