Page 19 of The Wolf At My Door

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I ran a finger down the satiny brown skin of his shoulder, tracing down a winding abstract tattoo there, letting my hand curl against his collarbone and then further down. His abs jumped as I touched, as if he were a skittish animal and might shy away in a moment. I spread my fingers wide, resting my palm on the warmth of his chest. “Jules…” His breath was coming in short bursts, his eyes almost wild. I just took another mouthful of the wine, really noticing the curious mixture of sweet and sour before descending on him.

Now that I was the one making the moves, I felt more in control. This place was a dizzying kaleidoscope of sexually attractive male flesh, and it was really disorientating being bombarded constantly with visual stimuli, offers and overtures. Everyone was telling me what they wanted, and it made it difficult to know what I did. I acknowledged that I still didn’t, but I had an idea as I listened to Shaun hiss at my fingers grazing his waistband. As weird and sleazy as the three guys at lunchtime had been, I was in some ways curious. Maybe not a curiosity I was ever going to indulge, but something I could think about in the sanctity of my own

mind if offers weren’t being thrust in my face all the time. I looked up at Shaun as I touched the button of his jeans, asking for permission. He blinked and then nodded quickly, holding a breath as I undid it with a flick and then slid his zipper down.

He’s right, I realised, as I peeled his clothes back as far as I could without moving him. It was a lot simpler than I had been making it. I could have clear evidence of whether or not he wanted me, and here it was. I slipped my hand inside his jeans, and his hips shifted slightly, an almost involuntary buck as my palm rubbed against the rigid length of his erection. “Jules…” he rasped as I moved my hand against him, prevented from skin to skin contact by a pair of turquoise blue undies but for the moment, content to feel his rigidity.

Of course, it’s fucking huge, I thought. Somehow, I had landed a job in an erotica writer’s fantasyland, full of gorgeous guys with big dicks. I bet he didn’t even take that long to get hard again. I peeled back his undies, watching him slowly become revealed. Well fuck, I know exactly how he’d feel going in. Comparatively smaller in the head, his dick flared out thick down the shaft, and I knew I’d feel that delicious pinch from being filled just slightly past capacity. I’d been so focussed on what I was doing, I hadn’t really tuned into my own body. The throb between my legs drew my attention back. My nipples ached and my thighs were damp. Freed from all this thinking, I now knew what I wanted. I wanted to fuck.

I jerked at his jeans so he would move his butt, not wanting to be slow and careful anymore. I pulled them down his legs and then shifted to take my rightful place above him. “Jules, Jules…” he hissed, pushing me back, moving into a crouched position. “Not yet, darlin’. I might only get one shot at this, and I want to do it right.”

“Shove your dick into me, that’s what I want.”

“Jules,” he murmured, manoeuvring me down on the blanket and dropping his lips to my neck. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise. If we do it your way, it’s gonna hurt.”

“No, it’ll be fine…” I whined, but he didn’t listen. His mouth crashed down upon mine, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, his hand scraping up my side and curling around my breast. He wasted no time in pulling my nipple between his fingers, my back arching, and incoherent whimpers coming from my mouth as I felt his caress right in my clit. His mouth soon shifted, freeing his hand to move downwards, his lips closing around my nipple and drawing me in deep.

“Oh, fuck…” I gasped as I felt his fingers slip under my skirt and over my damp thighs, pulling the saturated fabric of my underwear to one side, and then I yelped as he speared them into me. “Oh, god…oh, god…!” I cried, feeling a terrible pressure build in the base of my spine, the glancing touches to my clit as he thrust inside me making me claw at the ground.

“Let me taste you,” he said, hissing in my ear.

I moaned, unable to lie still under his ministrations, but wanting something more. “Yes!” I yelped as he dropped hurried kisses and pulled his fingers free, leaving me crying out from their loss, only to flip up my skirt and skim my underwear down my body. “Shaun, please…” I said. I could feel his breath on my overheated skin for a few heartbeats, and then he ran his tongue along my seam.

My moans were coming in weird, animalistic bursts, but I couldn’t care. Along the most tender of my flesh, a slippery mobile spear flickered, tantalising in its firmness, hinting that it could provide the hard, rough friction I was craving before slipping away. His fingers returned home, sheathing themselves inside me, and he rode my jerking hips right up until his lips closed around my clit.

Oh, fuck. It was a little like an out of body experience. My mind went white as the most incredible sensation burst through my body. I was coming, pleasure radiating out in waves, my cunt twitching around his fingers, feeling almost overpowered by his punishing strokes. When it finally stopped, I opened my eyes a crack, saw him panting and crouched over me, dick rigid. “How about now?” he asked.

“Oh, fuck yes,” I said.

He had a condom out of his wallet in one moment, smoothing it on and adding a small sachet of lube. I raised an eyebrow at this, and he said, “A little trick someone told me. Trust me, it will help.” Then he covered me with his body, I pulled his hips in close and arched my back to help the process. He was right, I soon realised. He was slow and careful about pushing himself inside me, pausing to let my body adjust. I needed it. I could feel a slight burn already, and I was pretty sure he was only half way in. “You OK?” he grated.

“Yeah.”

He took that as wholesale approval and shoved the rest in, wrenching a cry from me. I didn’t get a chance to adjust either, the control he had been using had apparently run out. His fingers dug into me as he thrust hard. It was both too much and not enough, my cunt sensitive, my nerve endings swirling with pleasure at the long-awaited friction, but I also longed to curl up in a corner and have a nice lie down. I was never great at coming more than once, so I didn’t quite know what to make of this until he shifted slightly. “Oh, fuck,” I yelped. It felt like he was fucking my clit from the inside, and instead of fingers and tongues, this massive heavy weight was pushing against it, never letting up. “Uh…uh…” My whine ratcheted up. His hand instantly went down between us, flicking over my clit. “Oh no…” I cried.

It was harder this time. I almost wanted to scrabble away, the wave rising and rising until… My body went limp, unable to do anything else, other than twitch under him. Seriously, I wasn’t wowing anyone with my sexual performance right now, but fuck. I was seeing colours behind my lids, felt like I was tripping balls, my cunt snapping around his hardness. “Jules!” he cried, and jerked inside me, so hard I could feel the pulsations of his cum.

It took a while for us to move. It felt like having a house land on you or surviving a plane crash. You knew something momentous had just happened, and you had to pause for a moment to collect yourself. He pulled free of me, almost painfully, and then flopped down on the blanket. I looked across at him, and he looked back at me and…we laughed. It was stupid and ridiculous, but seriously, there was no other appropriate response. In that laughter was wonder and awe and self-congratulation and gratitude and secretly, relief that the kind of sexual experience you’d always dreamed about actually happened. It was weird, because it was just missionary with some oral, but fuck me, it did it for me.

“I think my vagina’s broken,” I said.

“No, it’s not,” he said, rolling into me with a smile. “I won’t let it be.”

“No seriously, I can’t ever have sex again. It’ll all be downhill from now. I’m going to swear off for life, go out on top.”

“You can have a go on top anytime you like,” he said with a grin, “and I promise, if your vagina is broken, I’ll kiss it better.”

“Oh, stop it,” I cried, wriggling back. “I’m usually one and done, so this is all a bit of shock to me. Let’s just…cool it for a sec, until I am sure my clit won’t fall off. And we didn’t get anything to eat.”

“Well, you didn’t,” he said with a chuckle.

“I was going to but you were all, no, no, ladies first.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all, but I’m happy to give you a rain check on knob polishing.”

He laughed at this, then rolled closer, “Really?”


Tags: Sam Hall Pack Heat Paranormal