Chapter 11: Getting the Last Word

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"Don't move," I warned him. "I mean it."

Ian narrowed his eyes at me, but that glare didn't have quite as much of an effect when I was sitting on his hips with both of us totally naked.

Strike that. It had at least as much of an effect, it was just different than the usual. I wasn't pissed, and I wasn't afraid. I wanted. I wanted to win this round, which was petty as hell, but even worse, I wanted him. Luckily I'd come so hard I wasn't nearly ready to get another erection, so I could pretend, just for a minute, that he was the only one so worked up he could hardly think. Unless he could interpret the sound of my pounding heart. Hopefully he'd mistake it for anger.

I kept eye contact as I shifted backwards, sliding down his thighs. He swallowed hard enough that I heard his throat click, and his body tensed under me. Carefully settling between his legs, I smoothed my hands up his thighs, tracing the rigid muscles there. His skin was still a little damp, from the shower or from sweat, his body hair coarse. The combination of textures made my palms tingle.

"If you come in my mouth, we're done," I said.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, and tipped his head back, panting, his eyes sliding shut.

Well. That was encouraging. I hid my smile by ducking my head and taking him in my mouth in one long, slow glide.

I couldn't get it all. I couldn't even get half of it. But I worked my tongue around in swirling circles, and I suckled on the head. He tasted amazing, hot and clean and musky, and yeah, my hard-on was roaring back to life. I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and squeezed, digging the fingers of my other hand into his thigh.

Salt burst on my tongue, and his hips bucked up minutely. "I can't -- Nate, I don't think I can --" A ripping sound startled me up, and I was just in time to see bits of fabric and stuffing go flying as his claws dug furrows into the mattress. His cock came out of my mouth with an obscene pop.

At least werewolf strength would make flipping the mattress easy later, but for now, fuck, he wanted me so badly and I wanted to give it to him -- but no, not yet, he hadn't begged yet. I went back to work, sucking and licking and making him even impossibly harder. One of his hands flailed in the air before he jerked it back, not quite making it to the back of my head.

I pulled off again, still jerking him off, keeping my mouth so close that my breath brushed over the swollen head. "That was moving, Ian. Maybe I should've tied you up, if you can't keep yourself in line."

"There aren't --" I gave him a long lick from base to tip. "Uhhh, fuck, there aren't -- any ropes -- that could hold me right now, Nate," he choked, and I looked up to find him staring down at me, eyes wide and wild and glowing.

Ian was practically vibrating under me, and his claws were buried so deep in the mattress I wondered if flipping it would even help at this point.

After a second it hit me that the vibration was a growl so low it was almost subsonic. All the hair stood up on the back of my neck, and my cock went so rock-hard it was probably making another hole in the mattress.

And he still. Wasn't. Begging.

I redoubled my efforts, licking all over the head of his cock like it was the best ice-cream cone I'd ever eaten.

"Nate, please," he moaned. "Jesus fuck, just fucking do something!"

And there it was. Finally. Maybe I could've milked it, but the shock of satisfaction and sheer, bone-tingling arousal that zapped through me was enough to have me up on my knees, fumbling for the lube.

"Yeah, just a second, let me get ready," I gasped, and was immediately dragged down into a bruising kiss, his clawed hands around my ribs -- with the claws kept away from my skin, except for the lightest prickling pressure.

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