Claws & Crochet

Part 49

Content warning: Things are about to get spicy! If you don't like reading what happens in the bedroom (or on the couch) you might want to skip this chapter. And the next few too...

WARNER

We end up at my place, mainly because it's closer.

And I need to be alone with Zoey as soon as possible.

Anticipation thrums between us, but we haven't kissed again since Harvey's sudden appearance broke us apart.

I'm biding my time.

"How long have you lived here?" Zoey trails her fingers along the back of my sofa. I imagine those fingers giving my skin the same treatment.

I'm so frantic for her, I've situated myself on the opposite side of the room, trying to get enough distance that I can remind myself how to treat this gorgeous woman with respect, rather than ravage her like a beast.

But damn, her proximity brings out my animal.

"Three years," I can't suppress the needy growl in my voice.

A smile curves her mouth. "Any roommates?"

"No. Just me."

She meets my eyes, her stare wicked. "Good." Then her fingers are at the edge of her skirt, pulling the material up and over her head until she's on display, dressed only in some peachy underwear that almost exactly matches her skin tone.

Zoey is all curves and soft edges. I can see her nipples through the lacy material of her bra. I want to suck on them, see how wild I can drive her with my tongue on those sensitive peaks. Then I want to drag her panties off and tongue her core until she's screaming my name. I stalk across the room to where she leans back against the couch. I'm almost to her, hands reaching, when Zoey dodges my grip by dropping to her knees.

"What . . ." My question trails off as she undoes my belt buckle and slides the leather free.

"Do you mind if I suck your dick? I imagined it once, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." Her fingers pause on my fly as she stares up at me. Waiting for my permission.

"Sure. Go for it." My attempt at sounding casual fails when the words come out on a choked breath.

Zoey makes quick work of my pants zipper, and her eager hands push the material down along with my briefs. I'm half hard from the sight of her on her knees, and when she makes a happy noise and wraps her hand around the base of me, I grow to my full length.

"I'm STI free," she informs me. "Tested three months ago and haven't been with anyone in a year. When was the last time you were checked? Do werewolves get STIs?"

Everything about her, even her curious questions about werewolf health, turns me on.

"As far as I know, we don't get them. But my doctor gave me the all clear a month ago." The words come out rushed, happy to share the info, but wanting to get to the promise in her eyes.

"And you haven't been with anyone since?"

I shake my head, losing my voice as she adjusts her grip on my hard length.

"Good." She gazes up at me as her hand slides up and down my cock, almost leisurely in the slow movement. "What do you like, Warner?"

When I hesitate, she leans forward pressing a hot kiss to my stomach, making my ab muscles twitch in response. Her free hand wraps around the back of my thigh, gripping firmly, holding herself against me. And all the while she strokes.

"What do you like?" She whispers again, breath warm against my skin. Then her tongue sneaks out, teasing me with a lick, like an offering. Showing what I can ask for.

But all I manage is a confession courtesy of my lust-soaked brain.

"I-I haven't . . . done this."

Zoey doesn't back away in surprise. She simply nuzzles her nose against my hip bone.

"You've never gotten a blow job?"

I shake my head then answer. "No."

"Are you a virgin?"

That shocks a chuckle out of me, but then I'm suddenly groaning when her teeth pinch my skin. "No. Just never asked . . . for this."

I'm having trouble remembering anything that's felt better than the rhythmic pumping Zoey refuses to let up on. My hips try to thrust in time with her movements.

"But you gave it?" She ends her question with another kiss on my stomach, and the image of my face buried between Zoey's legs has me growling.

"Yeah. Fuck. I want to lick your pussy."

Her grip tightens by a fraction, drawing out my panting and thrusting.

"In a minute."

Then she places her lips against the crown of my cock and slowly drags me into the wet heat of her mouth.

And if I'd known this is what I could've asked for, I would have.

Zoey sucks me in deep, then hums a happy sound. The vibration massages my dick. My knees threaten to buckle.

She lets me slip back out, teasing the underside of my cock with her tongue as she does.

Curses tumble from my mouth.

Then Zoey stands, letting me go, and I want to beg her to touch me again.

"Wait. Zoey. I'm sorry."

She raises one eyebrow. "Sorry for what?"

"I . . ." I don't know exactly. "For whatever I did wrong."

Her curious brown eyes trace over me as satisfaction curves her mouth. "I was just going to suggest you sit down before your legs give out. I doubt I'm strong enough to catch you."

Zoey smiles at me, sweet and confident. She cares about me. About something as simple as my comfort during a blow job. The suggestion somehow ramps up the meaning of this encounter.

At least it does for me.

Instead of finding a place to sit, I snake my arm around Zoey's waist, tugging her into my chest. As I capture her mouth with mine, I spread my hands over her bare skin. She is soft against my hard grip. Wild, instinctual urges beg that I mark her. Not in a violent manner. I don't want to bruise her pillowy skin.

More like, I want to tattoo my fingerprints on her.

Yes, my wolf whispers.

Be mine, I fight the desperate plea, worried I'll scare her away with the strength of my wanting.

In place of the words, I use my touch to worship her.

My tongue caresses hers, inciting happy gasps that I swallow down as gifts. Gently, I knead the flesh of her ass, rocking our hips together, hinting at the way I want to thrust into her.

Zoey cups my cheeks, only to keep my head still as she pulls away.

"You said I could go down on you." There's an accusing note to her voice.

I chuckle. "I thought girls saw giving head as a chore." That's the main reason I've never asked for it before. When I was only hooking up with someone, I didn't want to be selfish. Not when I wasn't giving them any more of myself.

"It's only a chore if you don't like doing it."

"And you like it?" My question is breathless as I stare down at Zoey's mouth, the sparkle of her piercing taunting me.

She uses her body, pushing her chest against mine, to back me up until my knees hit the armrest of the couch and I fall backward, bouncing on the plush cushions. Zoey stands tall above me, her dark, honey hair curling over her shoulders, cocky smile plumping her cheeks.