Page 57

Eric

E ric flopped back onto the bed, trying to see if lying on his stomach felt any better.

He just couldn’t get fucking comfortable .

He was exhausted but couldn’t keep his eyes closed.

Everything ached, or itched, or…something.

He’d stripped out of the robe, down to his underwear, but the sheets felt too heavy on his skin one minute and the room’s mild air too harsh the next.

And he kept feeling like his fangs were popping out against his will, but every time he reached up to touch, his teeth were blunt.

The weird, new presence inside him was just as restless, twisting and turning within him in a way that almost felt tangible, even though Eric was pretty sure it didn’t quite work that way. That didn’t stop him feeling like the dang thing was going to split his skin open.

It needed something. He needed something.

He needed soothing. He needed that scent.

He needed his fucking mate , apparently.

Eric groaned aloud in frustration, flopping onto his back and casting his limbs out, grabbing at his phone on the bedside table. The time told him he’d lasted barely an hour before giving in.

Too goddamn bad. He couldn’t keep going like this.

“Wolfe!” he called out, his voice surprisingly hoarse, as if he’d been screaming rather than lying there in silent agony this whole time.

To the bastard’s credit, Wolfe didn’t make Eric wait; he was opening the bedroom door in seconds, almost as if he’d been sitting down there just waiting for Eric to swallow his pride. And judging by the triumphant gleam in his light-brown eyes, that was exactly what he’d been doing.

“Don’t look so smug,” Eric griped, not making any move to sit up. He’d already lost the battle, so why bother trying to hide how pathetic he was?

“So accusatory.” Wolfe’s voice was mild as ever, but his gaze was already hungry. It roamed over Eric greedily, the weight of it like a physical touch across Eric’s bare chest, lingering for long moments before it moved down to the evidence of Eric’s stubborn fucking arousal.

Because that was the other damning, humiliating aspect to this thing: Eric had been hard this entire goddamn time. He’d even tried to rub one out in the beginning, hoping it would help him sleep, but it had done nothing but work him up more. Release had kept evading him, just out of reach.

How could someone be this turned on and this uncomfortable at the same time?

It didn’t help matters that Wolfe spent way too much time eye-fucking Eric’s bulge before finally meeting his gaze again. Pervert.

Wolfe’s lips twitched like he’d heard Eric’s insult. Maybe he had. Maybe that was another creepy aspect of their bond no one had seen fit to tell him about. Who fucking knew, at this point?

“What do you need from me, pet?” Wolfe asked.

“I’m horny,” Eric complained, stating the ridiculously obvious, too irritated to be coy or address that humiliating term of endearment. “Like, disturbingly horny.”

A flash of possessive satisfaction rushed through the bond, quick as lightning. Eric clenched his teeth in frustration. This guy really had no shame.

“Mm. The new bond at work, I would say.” Wolfe was clearly trying to form a sympathetic expression, but he was doing a piss-poor job of it. He looked more like the cat who’d gotten the cream. “Would you like me to touch you now, darling?” he offered. “I think it would help your…condition.”

Oh, you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you?

Eric wanted to tell him to fuck off forever, but he couldn’t take any more of this feeling. “No touching,” he answered, trying to relax his jaw and keep his teeth from clenching so hard—he was going to break a molar or something. “And don’t call me darling. Just…come here. Come closer.”

Wolfe nodded genteelly. “As you wish.” He stalked toward the bed and stopped right at the edge of it, where he stared down at Eric, patient as a snake coiled in the grass, waiting for its prey.

But it was better, having him there. Eric could catch a hint of that scent now, comforting and arousing at the same time. But it still wasn’t close enough.

“Sit,” he ordered, feeling his own form of smug satisfaction when Wolfe obeyed him easily, lowering himself gracefully until he was seated on the mattress beside him.

Eric leaned in closer, breathing deeply. Oh, there it was. Bergamot, with a strange metallic edge he didn’t remember from the massage room. It didn’t detract from it at all though. It was exactly what he needed. Eric groaned, his cock pulsing in his briefs.

Why did this creepy fucker have to smell so good?

Wolfe’s gaze was roaming hungrily as ever. “Are you sure you don’t want me to touch you?”

Eric shook his head frantically. He had a feeling if he let Wolfe touch him, there was no going back. He was already addicted to the guy’s scent, to his presence—what would having Wolfe’s hands on him again do to him?

The words that came out of Eric next felt like they were coming from someone else. “I want you to lie down next to me. And I want to touch myself with you here, while you keep your hands to yourself.”

It was maybe the strangest request he’d ever made of someone.

In every other one of his numerous sexual encounters, he’d always been conscious of his partner’s pleasure.

Anxious over it, almost. But Wolfe didn’t deserve that courtesy, right?

He’d upended Eric’s life. It was his fault Eric was this horny, frantic mess.

He had to take responsibility for his actions, and in this case, that meant doing exactly what Eric wanted.

But Wolfe didn’t seem at all put off by the selfishness of Eric’s request. He just shifted his fully clothed body down until he was lying next to Eric on the bed, then turned to his side, propping his head on one hand, his gaze molten as it caught Eric’s.

“Like this, darling?”

Eric didn’t protest the endearment this time. He was too busy tucking his thumbs into his waistband, ready to free his aching cock. But he paused one last time. “This is okay, right?”

He didn’t know what made him ask. It wasn’t like Wolfe deserved his courtesy. But even psychopaths needed consent, right?

Wolfe only smiled at him, the expression softening his sharp face. “Mm. More than okay. Whatever you need, precious mate, I’m here to provide.”

Well, that couldn’t be right. Not when Wolfe had admitted barely an hour ago that he didn’t form emotional attachments.

But Eric couldn’t care about that now. Wolfe was into this, at least enough for Eric not to feel like a total pervy jackass.

He pulled down his briefs, kicking them off the bed.

His cock stood hard and proud, the tip an angry purple, his shaft feeling swollen and abused from his earlier attempts at self-pleasure.

Eric turned his head again to catch Wolfe licking his lips. “Why, Doctor. You’ve been absolutely blessed.”

So had Wolfe, if the impressive bulge in his suit pants was anything to go by. The thought had Eric grasping at his jerking cock. He wanted to tell Wolfe no talking, just to be a dick, but the sound of that smooth, steady voice was doing nice things to his insides, so he let it be. For now.

He started stroking himself, hard and fast, wanting to get this over with. It still felt…not quite right. But it helped, having Wolfe there, breathing him in. Maybe Eric would close his eyes, and it would be just like he was at home—

Eric startled as Wolfe’s fingertips brushed his arm. “Hey! I said no touching!”

“My apologies.” Wolfe removed his hand immediately, placing it on the bed centimeters from Eric’s heaving chest. “But I think you should slow down, pet. This is the effect of your beast wanting contact. Connection. Power through frantically and you’ll be back in this state before you know it.”

Eric stared at him. “Are you lying to me right now?”

Wolfe looked calm as ever, his head pillowed on his hand. “I’m telling you my suspicions. I can’t say for sure. It’s not as if I’ve had a mate before.”

Eric studied that placid face, trying to figure this guy out.

He’d have thought Wolfe would want this over with too—it wasn’t like he was going to get any physical satisfaction out of it.

Except he seemed content to just drink Eric in, like the sight of him alone was enough to sustain him.

It was almost enough to make Eric blush, the intensity of that admiration.

Staring at Wolfe—those brown eyes that gleamed red far too often, those sharp cheekbones, those lips that looked way too soft for such a stern face—Eric’s muscles loosened bit by bit. With every ounce of tension eased, those soft lips twitched up further. Wolfe was pleased; Eric could feel it.

Eventually, Eric relaxed the tight hold on his cock.

“There you are, darling,” Wolfe crooned, as if Eric had completed some monumental task. “Now why don’t you try teasing the head? Make yourself feel good, pet.”

Eric did as he said. He brushed over his leaking tip with his thumb, shuddering at the light contact, never taking his eyes off Wolfe as he did so. Was this what hypnosis felt like?

Wolfe hummed his approval. “And does that feel good?”

Eric nodded dumbly. It did. It felt really fucking good.

Wolfe broke eye contact to stare at Eric’s cock. “Were I allowed to touch, I’d ask for a taste.”

Eric frowned and shook his head again, but he was no longer frantic. He muscles were all loose, relaxed. “No touching,” he whispered.

Wolfe’s gaze returned to his. “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t dream of disobeying. Now one long stroke, base to tip.”

Eric’s hand followed Wolfe’s orders without his conscious thought. Eric breathed in deep at the same time, that bergamot scent enveloping him completely. His back arched off the bed as he did it again. And again.

“How’s that feeling, pet?”