Page 7 of Kept (Mating Run #4)

This was insane. Absolutely, completely insane.

Eli was in a werewolf’s room on the night of the mating run, utterly exposed, letting himself be touched, watched, claimed—and it felt like fire crawling through his veins.

Every nerve screamed, every thought that should have warned him dissolved under heat and need.

It was reckless, dangerous—and he couldn’t stop wanting it.

Kade’s fingers skimmed his ribs, light and deliberate, before settling at the waistband of his jeans.

Eli inhaled sharply, chest tightening, eyes flicking up to Kade.

His cock throbbed, straining hard against the denim, reacting before he even had time to think.

Seeing himself stripped, piece by piece, for Kade’s eyes alone made him dizzy—the lines of his body, pale skin flushed by heat, chest rising and falling, the taut, rigid length of him pressing insistently through fabric.

Exposure made him ache. Need and shame twisted together, and he couldn’t hide either.

The button came free with a soft pop. The zipper slid down slowly, like a silent whisper. Kade didn’t rush. He just watched, eyes locked on him, letting Eli feel every inch of anticipation.

His hips lifted without thought, a wordless take it, take it in the tilt of his pelvis. Kade’s mouth curved—almost a smile, sharper, predatory. He peeled the denim down Eli’s thighs inch by inch, unwrapping him with deliberate, precise hands.

Every new line of skin felt loud, alive, electric under Kade’s gaze.

Jeans hit the floor. Then his briefs, sliding down with a soft snag at his calf, leaving nothing between him and the air but Kade’s attention and weight pressing over him.

Eli’s cock throbbed painfully, fully exposed, sensitive to the cold brush of air and the heat radiating from Kade’s hardness pressing into his hip.

His heartbeat hammered against bone. His breath went shallow. No one had ever seen him like this—not really. Not without barriers, not without defenses.

Kade’s eyes roamed him, focused, deliberate, hands moving over him as he looked. Palms and knuckles pressed and dragged, learning the places where soft met hard, where tension coiled beneath skin. Every pass made Eli shiver, squirm, helpless, needing more.

Heat climbed Eli’s chest. He swallowed.

He should have been embarrassed. He should have been afraid.

But the way Kade moved—quiet, absolute, controlled—the way he handled Eli like something already claimed, made every nerve hum.

A thin, needy sound slipped from him when Kade’s palm ghosted over his stomach. He arched, helpless, caught between curling away from the intensity and baring himself more. Every fiber of him responded, desperate, exposed.

He trembled. He couldn’t hide. Every careful touch unspooled him. It was out of his hands.

He loved it.

Kade’s fingertips ghosted over Eli’s cock, a whisper-light pass that made every nerve spark and hum. Eli jolted, hips lifting instinctively, trying to follow the phantom touch. Heat flared low, hot and fast, and his breath caught somewhere between panic and need.

The second stroke came slow, deliberate, certain—a careful drag along every sensitive curve, as if Kade were reading Eli’s body like braille. The fire it sparked burned through him, and a sound slipped free before he even recognized it as his own.

Kade’s hand closed around him fully, perfectly—not loose, not tight, just impossibly right. The first long pull drove his head into the mattress, his mouth falling open for a breath that was never enough.

“No one’s done this for you, have they,” Kade murmured. Not a question. Satisfaction, raw and low, threaded the words.

Eli shook his head. Speech was a high shelf he couldn’t reach. He had no words for this. No words for the heat pressing in, the thrum of Kade’s hand, the way he was utterly seen, stripped bare and exposed.

Kade set a rhythm that felt like the solution to a problem Eli didn’t even know existed. Long, controlled strokes, each one sending heat climbing from the root of him, curling into his chest, setting fire behind his ribs. Too slow to bear, too precise to ignore.

Then the grip tightened.

Shock slammed through him, forcing a raw, animal noise from his throat. His hips kicked up, unthinking, instinctive, desperate. Kade let him. Matched him. Met each needy thrust with steady, measured resistance, something clean and deliberate that made Eli feel completely owned.

Kade pressed his other hand flat to Eli’s belly, holding him in place. Not hard, not rough, but absolute. The weight was undeniable, and Eli shivered, body tightening, surrendering to the force of it.

Time thinned. Each stroke built, white-hot and jagged, Eli’s body responding before thought could intervene. He squirmed and gasped as Kade pumped him, hips rising, skin taut, pressure climbing brighter, more relentless.

Then Kade stopped.

The sound that tore from Eli was new—raw, guttural, human, made entirely of need. His hips jerked, chasing nothing, air, release. Kade’s breath brushed against his ear as he laughed, low and pleased.

“Still,” Kade said.

Eli went still, the effort sharp across his spine and bones. Every muscle hummed with tension, coiled and waiting.

Kade lifted his hand from Eli’s stomach, bringing those same fingers to his mouth. “Open.”

Eli blinked, dazed by the sudden loss, the ache that spread through him. Kade didn’t pause for words. Two fingers pressed to his lower lip, testing, prodding, something deeper than obedience.

Eli hesitated. One heartbeat. Then parted his mouth.

Salt. Heat. Himself. He let Kade take those fingers in, tongue following, pressing, tasting, slick pads dragging over his tastebuds. Gritty callus against soft flesh, slick and alive.

Kade’s eyes darkened as he watched, gold narrowing to a thin, feral ring. There was something pleased in the curve of his mouth, something dangerous and owning that made Eli’s chest tighten and legs tremble.

He drew the fingers out, slow, deliberate.

“Good,” he said. Just that, a single word, and it fell into Eli’s gut like weight, hot and undeniable.

Eli’s breath hitched. Hands clenched the sheets. He hadn’t expected one syllable to carry such heat, such claim. Warmth unfurled low, spreading like fire through muscle and blood.

The wet fingers didn’t return to his cock.

They went lower.

Eli’s body tensed instantly, every nerve screaming on instinct.

He’d only ever let himself touch himself in the dark, safe in his own shame, never for someone else.

Kade must have felt it—felt the flinch—because his free hand landed heavy and warm on Eli’s thigh, anchoring him, grounding him, demanding stillness.

“Breathe,” Kade said. Rough, low, almost a growl, but not frightening. Commanding. Easy.

Eli forced an exhale, letting go of the tight knot of fear and habit in his throat.

The pressure came slowly, teasing, deliberate. Then the blunt slide of a finger pushed against him, sliding inside.

His breath caught, sharp and uneven. His back arched before he could stop it. The first stretch bit like fire, sharp and undeniable, splitting his brain between panic and fascination.

But then a slow, thick heat began to curl beneath it, pooling low and demanding attention. He had never felt anything like this—vulnerable, exposed, and burning alive all at once.

“That’s it,” Kade murmured, the sound of it claiming him. “Feel me.”

Eli did. He couldn’t not. The weight, the warmth, the slow, impossibly deliberate press—everything about it commanded him.

His body clenched instinctively, then loosened, learning the rhythm, learning the permission Kade offered without asking.

Heat pooled, tightened, spread, each pulse of sensation sharper than the last.

Kade moved carefully, measured. Every withdrawal, every patient push, gave Eli room to chase it, to learn the pattern. When his hips twitched forward before thought could intervene, Kade matched them, answered them, and drove in deeper.

Another finger.

Eli whimpered, fists clenching the sheet until knuckles whitened.

Shock, heat, disbelief—they collided in a riot of sensation he didn’t have words for.

His body rocked greedily into Kade’s touch, wanting more even as his mind tried to register what was happening.

He’d never wanted anything like this, never even allowed himself to imagine it—and yet here it was, overwhelming and precise.

Kade’s low groan rasped against his ear. “Hungry thing.”

The words barely registered. They couldn’t. The world had narrowed to skin and heat, to the friction, pressure, and stretch that tore through him, leaving only this impossible, overwhelming need.

Then Kade curled his fingers.

It hit Eli like lightning striking dry grass. White-hot, a shock that started deep inside and radiated outward, burning his chest and legs. Sound tore from him, raw, animal, urgent. Every muscle clenched around Kade’s hand, desperate to hold on, desperate to feel more.

Kade’s laugh was a low scrape of satisfaction that felt almost as good as his touch. Everything inside Eli slid into molten, trembling surrender.

Kade didn’t pause. He moved with intention now.

His fist wrapped around Eli’s cock, long, brutal strokes that dragged heat from root to tip.

Each pull was wet, thumb smearing slick over the slit, every pass cruelly precise—tight under the head, looser at the base—so Eli never adjusted, never got comfortable.

Every stroke teased him, pushed him higher, left him aching, leaking, burning.

Inside, the fingers thrust and curled, relentless, matching the rhythm of his hand.

Grind and curl, pulse and press. Eli’s toes dug into the mattress, hips jerking against Kade’s hold on his belly, arms trembling with the force of it.

Heat slicked across his skin, sweat mingling with slick, body burning like fever.

Every first sensation—every new stretch, every new press, every push into heat and friction—tore through him. His brain scrambled to process what pleasure could feel like when someone else owned it, guided it, made it urgent, demanding.

Kade didn’t ease. He kept him there—open, raw, exposed, slick and desperate, every nerve alight, every muscle alive.

How did he know? How did a stranger—a werewolf!—know where Eli’s body would bend before Eli did?

Eli shouldn’t trust him. Shouldn’t trust anyone. He knew that. He’d learned the cost of trust young.

But the way Kade teased him apart—clean hands, measured pressure, never taking more than Eli offered, only pushing where Eli yielded—felt like the thing he’d begged for without words since he was a kid.

Not allowed. Demanded.

That terrified him.

It made him shake.

“Faster,” Eli choked. “Please?—”

Kade’s answer was a rough sound and more speed.

His fist went hard and long, dragging slick down Eli’s cock, pulling more out of him with every stroke. His thumb pressed and pulled, teasing the slit, smearing wet. The vein under Eli’s shaft throbbed under that pressure, mean and sweet.

Inside, those fingers pressed deep and twisted, spreading him in a way that felt obscene and right. Eli could feel himself clutch and release, his body trying to hold on and let go at once.

The combination broke his rhythm. He tried to keep pace and failed. The edges melted. Words turned into sound.

Kade growled low, deep, a sound that rattled Eli’s chest and spine. He pressed the hard, thick weight of his cock against Eli’s thigh, rutting with deliberate, possessive pressure while his fingers continued their relentless work.

“Damn it… I want all of you,” Kade rasped, teeth clenched, voice rough with hunger. “Every inch, every sound…”

Eli’s mind spun, fired, and melted at once. One impossible, urgent thought consumed him: Kade’s cock not grinding on his thigh but inside him, filling him completely, stretching, owning him?—

The image alone was enough. Heat exploded through Eli. Hips jerked, body quaking and clamping around Kade’s hand. A ragged, animal cry tore free as he came instantly, every nerve flaring, every muscle trembling under the intensity.

His cock pulsed hard in Kade’s fist, thick spurts painting his stomach and chest in hot arcs. His body locked like a vise around Kade’s fingers. Aftershocks dragged more out, slicking Kade’s hand and Eli’s skin in a messy shine.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe right. The mattress caught him as he fell back. Everything in him went warm and boneless. Sweat cooling on his ribs, come sticky on his belly.

Kade's hand on Eli’s cock eased, dragging one last slow stroke through the mess. Eli twitched, too raw to handle it.

But Kade’s other hand…

It stayed where it was.

Those thick fingers were still buried in Eli—warm and heavy. Not working. Just there. The presence of them felt like a claim. Eli was stretched around them, open, held.

He looked up.

Kade leaned over him, all heat and muscle. His eyes had gone near feral in the low light. Possessive. Hungry.

A predator looking at what it had brought down.

It flushed Eli skin-hot. His scalp prickled. His orgasm echoed through him in soft pulses. His cock softened, still leaking. Come cooled sticky on his belly. But Kade wasn't done yet.

Kade moved. The fingers inside Eli slid. Out a fraction, back in, a slow glide that made fresh heat lick through nerves already shocked raw.

Eli jolted. Legs tensed. Heels dug. Toes curled. The drag-press lit him up, punched a sound out of him from somewhere low.

Kade didn’t hesitate.

He curled those fingers and hit the place that made Eli choke on a cry, low and raw. His cock twitched hopelessly against his thigh—soft, tender, aching with sensitivity—and still his body tried to respond. Everything was blurring white and hot at the edges.

“You thought I was done with you,” Kade said. Not a question. Heat burned in every word. “No.”

His palm pressed Eli’s chest and pushed him down when he arched. Firm. Not cruel. It said stay .

I want more of you.