“No…” he protested, right up until I gripped his cock in one hand and trailed my tongue up its length before I looked upwards. “Oh fuck!” he rasped out as I licked away all trace of pre-cum. “Bec, love, you don’t—”
I’d never understood why guys thought this was a submissive position. I held him in the palm of my hand, literally. I could say or do whatever I liked as long as I kept doing this. He stared down into my eyes, his brows knitting and smoothing, his mouth opening wider the deeper I sucked him in. He gave up the ghost on protesting as my lips swivelled down his length, but it was shoving the flat of my tongue up against the underside of his dick that sealed the deal. His hands landed on my scalp, a slow description of what I was doing to him spilling from his lips.
“Fuck, yes, Bec. You feel so fucking good. You’re taking my cock so deep. Jesus, I can feel your fucking throat. So good, such a good girl.”
And I was as my head bobbed. Something terrible inside me needed him deeper and deeper, where usually, a gag reflex would kick in, while those faint traces of salty cum spurred me faster. My hand slid between his legs, cupping his balls, which was met with universal approval, until I put them to one side and brushed my finger along his taint.
“Fuck, you gonna be a dirty girl?” he asked as I circled a finger around his butthole, then pushed in. He gave a strangled cry, but the way he leant into that made me think I was on the right track, something confirmed when I crooked my finger, tapping against the small lump of his prostate. He became incomprehensible, words jumbled with groans, his pants coming faster and faster, until finally, his fingers locked around my skull, holding himself taut as he announced, “I’m coming. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Swallow it down, that’s a good girl.”
When I pulled away, he was shaking all over, boneless from pleasure as he flopped down on the bed, but when I returned after washing my hands, his eyes opened a crack and he held out a hand for me to join him. He saw the hesitation but didn’t say anything, especially when I did climb on the bed. He pushed me up, parting my thighs, leaving kisses alo
ng the skin before looking up at me.
“We need to talk about…that. I’ll hold him back, no one will force you into anything, and in Sanctuary, it’s always the woman that chooses, always. But…” His eyes flashed green for a second. “But I’m hoping we get a chance to work out what the hell we want, away from our beasts.”
I nodded slowly in response.
“So how long have you known what you are? What we are?”
“Always,” I said, staring up at the ceiling as I remembered seeing my mum and nan cavorting in their wolf forms one of the times we went out camping in the bush. “I’ve always known. I shifted at fifteen, went through ten different heats.”
“Fuck…” he said. “How the hell did you get through that on your own?”
“Not always on my own,” I replied, feeling his fingers tighten around my thighs. “But enough times to know the misery of it.”
“Well, that’s something we can help you with, here at Sanctuary. You don’t have to take anyone as a mate ever if you don’t want.” I heard the strain in his voice as he said that, but he forged on, “If you just want some fun, something to take the edge off…” He placed a gentle kiss right over my clit, the sensation making me shiver. “You’ll have men lined up around the block to help you through this.”
And wasn’t that a glorious mental picture?
“I’ve died, haven’t I?” I asked. “Some bastard knifed me at the roadhouse, and I’m bleeding out on the floor. This is heaven, and I’ve somehow made it here.”
“I dunno, would an angel do this?” he asked as he slid his fingers through my wetness, only to circle my clit, once, twice. My hand buried itself in his hair at the sudden rush of sensation at that.
“My angel would…” I said breathily. “Fuck, Shaun, fuck…”
Chapter 13
So if you ever happen to go into heat, let me tell you, having a bunch of ladies descend upon your sex nest was a way to stop your libido cold.
“Smells like half the single men have been out here, scent marking the place,” one of the women said. Her green eyes met mine with a twinkle. “They’ve been paying you court.” They slid back down, inspecting the area outside the house, stepping over the grass fastidiously. “I am Rhoda, one of the matriarchs here.”
“We might need to start with what a matriarch is,” Ophelia said drily.
“I know what that means,” I said, instantly feeling that rush of shame and censure as I said the words. I’d never spoken to anyone about this outside of my family. “At least I think I do.” When I frowned, Shaun moved to my side, taking my hand, something that had Rhoda nodding approvingly.
“And what do you think you know?” Ophelia asked. That could have been confrontational, but instead, it was gently curious. “Shaun said you were already aware of what you are?”
“And you’re not surprised by that,” I replied.
“No.” She smiled, a small noise coming from Shaun, making it apparent he didn’t know that. “You didn’t have the same fear, being swamped by feelings you didn’t understand. You were right in the middle of an ocean of need, but you already knew how to swim.”
She stepped forward, a gentle, warm expression on her face, one I knew well. She held out her hands, just like Nan had when we performed the different rituals, the feel of Ophelia’s hands in mine enough to make me remember her all too painfully.
“This is how we connect to the goddess, love,” Nan told me, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “She shines down on her daughters most of all, bathing us in her light, giving us the strength to do what is needed.”
“You are one of the lost ones,” Ophelia said, like somehow, that was a wondrous thing.
“Lost one?” I shook my head. “I knew nothing about this place. Didn’t know anyone that was like what we are. I’d never even heard of Sanctuary before now. Shaun drags me out here, and there’s hordes of men hanging around, panting like dogs. Lost what?”