Page 62

Wolfe

W olfe made good use of his time while Eric was in the shower.

He first poured more wine for both of them, then removed his shoes as well as his suit jacket and set them both aside, undoing the top three buttons on his dress shirt as he did so.

There was a large part of him that wished to strip off completely, to stride into that bathroom and take what was his—bend that big, gorgeous body over and plunge his cock into that muscled ass, the one that had felt so wonderful under his hands in that tacky massage parlor.

Patience , he reminded both himself and the beast within him. Patience .

His careful approach was paying off, if they could both just rein themselves in long enough to let it. Wolfe had sensed a surrender of sorts from Eric just now. And all Wolfe had to do to keep the doctor’s walls from bouncing right back up was keep the beast under control a little while longer.

It wasn’t easy, with how keyed up they both were.

Eric’s distress had been…well, it had been distressing .

Wolfe had never before been so unsettled by someone else’s discomfort, and he couldn’t say he was a fan of the feeling.

He should have—if anything—felt triumphant; it was proof, after all, that Eric needed him.

Payback, even, for his leaving their home and insisting on his independence.

But Wolfe had only felt agitated. Helpless.

Angry. He’d wanted to burn that hospital down for the offense of being the obstacle between him and his mate.

It seemed as if Eric wasn’t the only one who was unstable.

But they were going to fix that, weren’t they?

And it seemed that it might not be as difficult as Wolfe had first imagined.

Eric had responded to Wolfe’s coming to fetch him like Wolfe had slain a literal dragon for him, a response completely at odds with the simplicity of the act itself.

Wolfe’s mate was clearly unused to receiving care of any kind.

Really, for someone who gave off the impression of an empty-headed, baby-faced playboy, Eric had been displaying a wonderfully potent mix of neuroses: a need to be liked, a need to be useful, both coupled with a deep-seated belief that he was inherently neither.

That he was, for some reason, unworthy at his core.

Idly, Wolfe picked up Eric’s phone, which he’d tossed so carelessly on the bed on the way to his shower. He pressed the pass code he’d watched Eric enter earlier that morning and went through a cursory inspection of his missed calls and messages.

And there. Just as he’d thought. An overbearing mother who wasn’t at all afraid to insult her son in written messages.

It really was marvelous, the damage a parent could do to a child’s psyche, well into that child’s adulthood.

Wolfe wasn’t sure if he wanted to tear her head off her shoulders for troubling his mate so, or send her a gift basket for creating such a toxic familial environment that even Wolfe’s particular brand of caring would seem golden in comparison.

He had no doubt there was some absent, unemotional, possibly toxically masculine father in the background to thank as well.

No wonder Eric was so deliciously needy, greedy for affection in whatever form he could get it.

And Wolfe would oblige.

But first, he would devour.

His ears perking up at the sound of the shower shutting off, Wolfe set the phone neatly on the nightstand, next to their wine, then relaxed back against the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles, his own glass of wine in hand.

Wolfe was incredibly pleased to see Eric hadn’t bothered getting fully dressed, beads of water dripping down the bare expanse of glistening chest, his slim hips barely covered by his towel, his poor cock already tenting the terry-cloth fabric.

“Darling,” Wolfe purred.

Eric stood there for a long moment, staring him down. What conclusions had his dear one come to in that shower? The bond was giving Wolfe very little to go by, other than the sweet surge of arousal and cautious tendrils of nervousness coming from his mate.

“Come here,” Wolfe ordered, voice soft as silk, pleased beyond measure when Eric complied, taking long, shaky steps to the bed and stopping there, making no move to get onto the bed itself.

Wolfe took a small sip of his wine. “How gorgeous you are. Are you going to let me touch you?”

A nod from Eric, who had a delicious flush on his cheeks, either from the heat of the shower or Wolfe’s praising words.

“Taste you?”

Another nod.

Satisfaction hummed through Wolfe’s veins. “Wonderful. Why don’t you lie down on the bed, pet.”

Eric cautiously crawled over Wolfe’s legs to do so. Really. One would think the man a fluttering virgin, rather than the local Lothario, with the tentative way he was following each of Wolfe’s commands. No matter.

Wolfe could be gentle.

He handed his glass of wine to Eric, his lips twitching in amusement when the man downed it in one swallow. He took the empty glass from him and set it out of the way, turning onto his side and resting his head on one fist, an exact replica of their positions their first time together.

But it wouldn’t be Eric’s hand gripping that magnificent cock this time.

Wolfe let his gaze travel slowly over the glorious sight in front of him. He didn’t request Eric remove the towel yet; there was enough skin on display to play with for the moment.

He started slow, tracing the muscles of Eric’s shoulder with one finger before moving along to his collarbone. He enjoyed immensely the way Eric trembled beneath his touch. And when Wolfe idly circled one nipple, Eric’s breath hitched noticeably.

Wolfe’s lips curled. “Sensitive, are we?”

“What are you going to— I mean—” Eric swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. “What do you want to do to me?”

“I’d massacre legions to fuck you,” Wolfe answered honestly, circling the other nipple with his finger, watching it peak. A subtle flinch from his mate, not at Wolfe’s touch, but at his words. Wolfe smirked. “Why, darling, have you never had a cock up there?”

Eric shook his head, those shadowy green eyes locked onto Wolfe’s, and Wolfe’s stomach swooped at the thought. “But you’ve been with a man before,” he clarified.

“Yes.” Eric’s voice was deliciously hoarse. “More than once.” He paused, rectified. “A lot more than once.”

Wolfe didn’t think too hard about those who had come before him. He had no reason to mind, as long as it was all in the past.

Eric’s future would be Wolfe and only Wolfe.

“Other way around, then?”

Eric cleared his throat. It was adorable, this strange shyness coming from him. “Sometimes. But mostly, just like, blow jobs. Frottage. Hand stuff. A lot of one-night stands don’t want to go…there.”

“Mm. Shame. You have such a beautiful cock. They should have been begging for it.” Wolfe dipped a finger beneath Eric’s towel, tugging gently. “Show me.”

Eric undid his towel with trembling fingers. So darling, how keyed up he was. Wolfe stroked the smooth pale skin of his freshly revealed hips. “And tell me, has anyone ever tasted that virgin hole?”

His answer was a slack-jawed shake of the head.

“Fingers, perhaps?”

A slow nod.

“Toys?”

Another, more hesitant nod.

“Glorious.” Wolfe let out a happy sigh. “I’m all up to speed. Now what would you like me to do with this gorgeous body of yours, darling? Touch it? Taste it?”

Eric only stared, but the surge of lust at “taste” was unmistakable.

Wolfe started with the neck, at the exact spot where he’d bitten him in that massage parlor.

He had its location memorized, that particular tender bit of skin.

He placed his lips there, kissing softly before nipping it with blunt teeth.

“Your blood was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of sampling,” he murmured.

“Is it any wonder my beast didn’t want to stop? ”

The reminder clearly woke Eric from his shaky, pseudovirginal trance. He pulled back slightly to glower at Wolfe. “Don’t remind me. I can feel how smug you are.”

“Can you?” Wolfe closed the distance between them again, licking along the taut line of Eric’s neck. “And is it any wonder? Just look at you. Who wouldn’t be smug, having you at their fingertips?”

“Plenty of people.”

Oh, but the hurt ran deep with this one.

Wolfe could see it perfectly: a young man, whose idiotic parents were incapable of showing proper affection, searching desperately for love.

Perhaps the first time he’d reached out, the desperation had been too palpable, and he was summarily rejected and shamed.

He’d learned to expect only the superficial.

Wolfe grabbed Eric’s chin, turning his head to meet his eyes. He wanted this message to hit home. “Idiots, all of them.”

He would erase them from Eric’s memory. With his touch, with his devotion.

He tilted Eric’s head back and dipped his tongue into the hollow of his throat, pleased with the tiny whine Eric let out in response.

And then he sampled the subtle variation of flavors in each new bit of skin.

There was no salt or sweat, not after the shower.

All clean soap. But underneath that, that lovely scent of wisteria.

Not a trace of that horrid aftershave. Which was no surprise, as Wolfe hadn’t stocked any in their new home.

Generally, Wolfe would take his time. Restraint had never been a hardship for him in bed, as lust had never been all-consuming for him. But here. Now. Wolfe could feel Eric’s need, each new tendril of arousal that blossomed so beautifully under Wolfe’s touch.

His exploration was cursory at best, rushed.

It was hard to take his time when every touch of his tongue or nip of his teeth pulled little groans and grunts and pants from his desperate mate.

Wolfe didn’t last long at all before he was moving from his position and traveling down that long, built body.

He hovered over Eric’s cock, delighting in the angry red color of the tip.

Eric let out a harsh breath. “A-Are you going to suck me?”

“I am.” But not like Eric thought. “Turn over, pet.”

If Eric was confused at the request, he didn’t show it. He rolled over instantly onto his stomach, by all appearances content to let Wolfe run the show.

“Spread your legs a little wider, darling.”

Oh, but he was scrumptious like this. Eric may not have been some die-hard gym bunny, but his shoulders were naturally broad, his legs muscled and lightly furred. There was strength there, more than Wolfe himself had naturally had in his human life, surely.

Wolfe ran his hands along those broad shoulders, those pale hips. He squeezed that muscled ass, earning a strange little sigh from his mate.

“You have really nice hands,” Eric said, sounding almost drowsy.

Amused, Wolfe gave him another squeeze, elicited another sigh. “Wait until you see what my tongue can do.”

Wolfe slid onto his belly, ignoring his own aching cock and placing himself between those spread thighs. He pulled Eric’s cheeks apart, revealing the pink furl in between. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t tease. He licked him in one long swipe.

“Oh my fucking God. ”

Wolfe smirked. “How’s that, darling?”

He didn’t wait for a response. He licked again.

No words of blasphemy from his mate this time, only a hitch of breath.

Wolfe placed more focus on Eric’s hole, wetting it with his tongue, teasing it with his lips.

Softening it to the point where he could stick the tip of his tongue inside, exploring and stretching.

The strangled noise Eric made in response was really a thing of beauty.

Here, Wolfe did take his time. He lost himself in devouring his mate. He was consumed by his scent, by his sounds, by the clean, musky taste of him.

It was Eric’s squirming that brought Wolfe back, his hips wriggling like a fish on the line. Wolfe raised his face from his new ideal of nirvana. “Too much, pet?”

“ Wolfe .” He said it with full, plaintive desperation. “I need to fucking come. Please .”

“Ah.” Wolfe supposed all fun had to end at some point.

He could empathize, at least. His own cock was no doubt ruining his trousers, staining them with precum.

It was a shame though. He squeezed Eric’s cheeks again before reaching beneath him to pull Eric’s cock back between his legs, wetting one of his own fingers as he did so.

Wolfe slid down further and sucked the tip into his mouth.

Eric keened. “ Jesus .”

Wolfe slid the tip of his finger into Eric’s hole, sucking with more fervor. He was done with gentle. Eric let out one last, hoarse yell, and then Wolfe’s mouth was filling with his salty, bitter essence, his mate’s muscular body twitching and trembling under his hands.

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Jesus Christ.”

His mate was awfully blasphemous in his postcoital state.

But now Wolfe was reminded of his own painfully hard cock. Eric wasn’t the only one who needed to come. And if Wolfe couldn’t claim him fully, couldn’t yet stick his cock where it rightfully belonged, then he was going to do the next best thing.

He was going to mark that gorgeous face.

Wolfe flipped Eric easily onto his back, moving up to straddle his chest. Eric’s face was beautifully dazed, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth slack.

Perfect.

Wolfe freed his cock from the restriction of his suit pants. He stroked himself furiously. He had no patience for finesse, for delayed gratification. Not with his balls heavy and taut, his frame so rigid with unreleased tension he felt he might snap.

When he came, spraying his cum all over that gorgeous face, white spots danced along the edges of his vision, jolts of electricity running along his spine.

Wolfe let out a satisfied sigh, studying his handiwork. Those green eyes stared back at him, shock widening them. White dripped along his cheeks, his chin.

Eric licked at his lips, at the traces of Wolfe’s cum there. “Is this your idea of bonding?”

Wolfe let himself laugh, low and mean. “Oh, darling, we’re just getting started.”