Page 17

Fuck. He wished he could lunge forward and take Rocco down to the floor.

If this was a normal ambush, he would’ve been able to use his strength and speed to twist and use his poisoned ring against the witch.

Then there would be no contest. A witch without his magic was no match for a wolf.

Except his wolf was having none of that.

All it wanted was to revel in the contact with their fated mate.

All his muscles strained in frustration at the contrasting push and pull of his desires—to fuck or …

whatever the fuck his wolf would let him do to get out of this situation.

Holding eye contact, Rocco reached down and undid Emilio’s belt, unzipping him and raising an eyebrow in question as he wa ited for permission to push his suit pants down around his ankles.

Emilio’s nostrils flared as he tried to contain his wolf’s excitement while dealing with the intoxicating scent of his mate’s arousal surrounding him. A whine escaped him. A fucking whine . And Rocco’s eyes widened in surprise before his head tilted in question.

“You’re fighting your wolf right now, aren’t you?” he asked.

Fuck. The last thing he needed was Rocco realising there was a potential mating bond between them that he could manipulate.

He needed to nip that suspicious look right in the bud.

And, somehow, he needed to avoid this turning into any kind of sex where his teeth had access to Rocco’s neck because he was too worked up to control himself.

“Just take them off already. I’m not wearing any underwear underneath,” Emilio growled.

Rocco’s eyes dilated, and the scent of his arousal grew even stronger as he shoved Emilio’s pants to the ground and then stood back to look at him.

Emilio could only wonder what his fiancé saw in the debauched picture he must make.

Hands pinned behind him. Shirt and tie still covering his body.

Every inch of his thick, dripping, alpha-shifter cock exposed to his gaze.

“We’re not fucking,” Emilio said.

“Says who?” Rocco asked, licking his lips as his eyes stayed laser-focussed below his waist.

“You like to watch? You can watch. But that’s it.”

“And what am I watching, puppy? You don’t have any hands free.”

Smirking, Emilio sauntered over to the hall table and managed to extract the bottle of lube he’d left in its drawer.

His shoulders ached at the move. It was not his most elegant moment, but Rocco didn’t seem to care.

His fiancé’s eyes had darkened with lust, and his breathing had quickened as he stood, rooted in place, in the middle of the dining area.

“You don’t touch,” Emilio said, shoulder-checking Rocco as he passed him on the way to the dining chair the witch had vacated, where Emilio’s knife was still buried deep.

“What—” Rocco’s question cut off on a string of swearwords as he watched Emilio stop in front of the chair and lower himself until he could slick the hilt of his knife with the lube.

“Holy fuck. Yes , puppy.”

This was a mistake. Probably the worst mistake in the history of all mistakes.

Emilio couldn’t make himself care. He was high from his mate’s presence, and his instincts had been riding him hard all night at the threats they’d faced.

He needed to make his mate come. Now. Without touching him.

Then he could figure out how to get back on an even footing with the asshole.

The knife hilt wasn’t particularly thick, and he’d stretched himself out with that ridiculous plug of Rocco’s earlier in the night, so he didn’t try to ease into anything.

The burn was half the fun, and the blade itself was fully embedded in the wood of the chair from how hard he’d thrown the damn thing so there was no chance he was going to cut himself.

Hovering over the hilt, he made sure the whole thing was slick with lube as he did his best to ignore his fiancé.

“Eyes on me,” Rocco growled.

If he could’ve raised his middle finger at the guy, he would’ve.

Instead, he turned around so his back was to the witch, lined himself up, and sank down onto the hilt of the knife, moaning as it breached his hole.

The last thing he needed was to watch his witch while he fucked himself.

He’d probably lose control and beg Rocco to take over.

With another shuddering groan, he raised himself up before slamming his body down onto the chair, whimpering at the pleasure shooting through his body as he managed the perfect pressure against his prostate with the move.

The ribbed leather of the hilt felt amazing as it rubbed inside him, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of feeling Rocco’s burning gaze fixated on him as he repeated the move again and again.

“Fuck. Lean forward a bit for me, puppy. The jacket’s blocking my view,” Rocco moaned.

“Shouldn’t have tied me up with it then,” Emilio snapped, biting back another moan as his hard cock slapped against his stomach from his momentum, leaving a thick strand of pre-cum stretching from it to his shirt.

What he wouldn’t give to have Rocco take his cock in hand. That wasn’t going to happen, though, because the man needed to stay a safe distance away before Emilio lost it.

The familiar thrum of Rocco’s magic intensified, and the next second, his shirt and jacket were torn off him by pure power, while his wrists remained locked together behind him.

“Mmm… that’s better. You should see yourself, baby. All your muscles straining while you fuck yourself. The flash of the hilt disappearing into your greedy little hole. It’s not satisfying enough, though, is it? Not thick enough. Not hot enough. My cock would bring you so much more pleasure.”

“Shut up,” Emilio said through gritted teeth, focussing on pegging his prostate with every move so he could get off as fast as possible. He needed this to be over already.

“You’re being so good for me. Taking it so well. Slow down a little, puppy. I want to see you shaking with how bad you need it.”

Emilio ignored him and sped up. A peal of Rocco’s beautiful laughter filled the space, distracting him enough that he almost did slow down. Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder, searching for a view of his mate’s happiness. Another mistake .

Rocco was sitting on a seat behind him. Emilio had been so lost in pleasure, he hadn’t even noticed the sound of the witch’s clothes coming off, or maybe he’d hidden the noise with his power.

He was fully naked now and sprawled with legs spread wide as he jerked himself off, eyes trained on the place where Emilio was impaling himself.

Emilio whimpered again, grinding down on the hilt of the knife that wasn’t quite enough to tip him over into the orgasm taunting him with how close it buzzed beneath his skin.

“Shhh… it’s okay. You need more?” Rocco asked.

“Fuck you,” Emilio said, panting. “Yes.”

Rocco laughed again and reached down to grab the bottle of lube he’d dropped on the floor before fishing something out of his pocket. No, not his pocket. Emilio’s.

“Gonna let me put this in you?”

“No touching,” Emilio said, eyes trained on the magical metal plug in his mate’s hand.

“Scout’s honour,” Rocco said with a smirk.

Lifting himself up so the hilt of the knife was barely breaching him, he turned his face away from his mate. “Do it.”

Cold metal traced around his rim, teasing him, and a full-body shiver wracked through him as he tried to press down on it, only to have the pressure disappear. A whine escaped him.

“Awww… You need your hole filled, puppy?”

He would’ve been fuming at the words if Rocco’s voice wasn’t cracking with desperation.

“Just let me have it already,” Emilio growled.

The sensation of cool metal returned, and this time his mate let him press down until he felt the plug slipping inside him alongside the hilt of the knife, stretching him in the best way.

The sensation of his mate’s air magic intensified, tingling inside him as Rocco did something to the two lengths to tie them together so he could ride them both.

“ Fuuuuck ,” Rocco gasped, a thud behind him indicating he’d fallen back onto his chair.

Emilio couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder again.

Rocco was holding his cock tight at its base, eyes closed in pleasure as the thick veins pulsed and pre-cum dripped down its length.

Emilio clenched down on the two intrusions inside him, wishing they were something else, and was rewarded with another long groan from Rocco.

A wicked smirk crept over Emilio’s face as he remembered just how Rocco’s toy functioned to let the witch feel the sensations from the plug like it was his own skin.

Rising up as far as he could, Emilio sank back down, squeezing his inner muscles and working the metal inside him as much as he could.

Rocco’s hips jack-knifed up off his chair at the move, thrusting into nothing, and Emilio froze in place, reducing the stimulation he’d be feeling as much as possible.

“I need you to move, puppy. Please, ” Rocco gasped, the muscles in his neck corded in restraint and his abs defined in mouth-watering lines as he tensed his torso.

It was the begging plea that made him lose it. Working himself up and down on the chair, grinding into it, Emilio chased the pleasure that was building lightning fast now that he had the visual of his mate’s ecstasy holding him in thrall.

“Just like that. Don’t stop. You feel so good. You’re gonna make me come so hard.”

Emilio’s eyes rolled back even as he wanted to scream in frustration.

Why couldn’t his mate at least let him pretend he was just getting himself off?

Instead, he was being hurtled into a stratosphere of pleasure by the combination of Rocco’s rumbling voice, intoxicating scent, and the feel of his magic thrumming inside his body around the toy .

“ Emmy!” Rocco’s scent sharpened even more and then rope after rope of his cum shot from his cock onto the floor between them as he screamed his name.

The name only his family usually called him.

The name that pushed him over the cliff he’d been hovering at and into an orgasm that had his vision fading to black and an inhuman howl of pure satisfaction leaving his mouth.

Sweat rolled down his bare ribs, and the regret he should’ve felt at giving in was nowhere to be found as the pressure holding his wrists behind him loosened. Leaning his forehead on the chair’s back, he slumped in exhaustion, letting his hands hang limp by his sides.

“Come on, puppy. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Rocco murmured, sounding just as wrecked.

Emilio hissed in discomfort as strong hands lifted him up, supporting him as he felt the leather and metal slip from his body and clenched on an emptiness that had him whining again.

“Shhh… You’re okay,” Rocco said, hoisting him into his arms and sliding his hand down his spine until his fingers brushed his hole. “This okay?”

Emilio couldn’t make himself form words, nuzzling into Rocco’s neck and taking a deep breath of his scent instead. Rocco took it for the silent permission it was and pushed two fingers inside him, filling up that awful emptiness and making him sigh in relief.

Fuck. He was going to regret this in the morning.

To his credit, his fiancé didn’t try for anything more.

Instead, he quietly led him to his bathroom and turned on the shower, before quickly and efficiently washing them both.

His wolf rumbled in satisfaction inside him as Rocco smelled even more like him after using his shower gel.

He didn’t even have the energy to complain when the witch got into his bed, pulling the covers back and patting the space beside him .

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Emilio said.

“Tell that to your wolf,” Rocco answered, his hand reaching up to press at the large bruise Emmy had sucked onto his neck earlier in the night.

He was so fucked. One night in the same bed wasn’t going to make it any worse. Sighing, Emilio crawled onto the bed and turned the light out, turning his back on the too-tempting man.

Rocco let out a soft laugh before pulling him closer, so his back was pressed tight to Rocco’s chest and the reassuring weight of his arm lay over him. Emilio opened his mouth to complain, but before he could, Rocco spoke.

“Hush, puppy. Go to sleep. You can tell me to fuck off in the morning.”