by Amanda Milo
The musky scent of his interest intensifies, and a fat bead of precum wells up from the eye, shining brightly.
My sex blazes with arousal. “Can I touch you?” I ask, breathless.
His eyes squeeze shut and his head jerks up and down once. Certain. He still can’t look at me, either too close to coming to risk it or too submissive, but that’s fine.
Wrapping four fingers around his shaft—and rolling my lips over my teeth, sucking in a breath through my nose when I can’t get my thumb and index finger to meet—I greedily take his length in my hand. Because he can’t avidly watch me, I’m able to peruse him without quite as many nerves plaguing me as I think I’d otherwise have. “I want this inside me so bad,” I tell him.
His head drops back, and he groans like I’m torturing him.
He isn’t telling me to stop though.
I keep my hand wrapped around him, my fingers gently gripping the satin-wrapped steel of him. His skin slides as I pump him, and he lengthens before my eyes. He’s so hard, he has to be hurting. I tear my eyes away to glance at the nightstand next to the bed. “Condom,” I say.
Lucan goes dead still.
The room is suddenly filled with the you could hear a pin drop quality of silence.
I blink in disbelief. I keep my voice light and neutral as my hand stays wrapped around his overheated flesh. “You don’t stock condoms.”
“No,” he says hoarsely.
I wince. Having had myself tested after the very last time I had sex with Julién, I know I’m clear of STDs, and I’m 99.9% sure Lucan is clean—but that doesn’t mean we’re good to go. I’m not on birth control.
“We don’t have to have sex,” Lucan says, and I’m surprised when he manages to meet my gaze.
His gentle eyes are so sincere.
My gut check does a rapid calculation that I’m not proud of: I don’t care about consequences—I WANT LUCAN NOW!
I lick my lips. “We’ll have you pull out.” I give him a little squeeze right behind his glans to help him keep control. The edge of his flared head fits hotly over my thumb and forefinger.
Lucan makes a low, masculine moan that’s somehow music to my ears.
But he gasps, “I can’t.”
Surprised, I pull back. “Wait. Is the rumor about the ‘breeding knot’ actually true?” I’d dismissed those claims when I’d come across them during my initial research on werewolves. I thought it was a bunch of tall tales. Erotic ones. Various websites claimed that shifters have a bulb of extra erectile tissue at the base of their shaft, which swells significantly during intercourse—swells so large that it locks partners together, often dubbed ‘tying’ or ‘knotting.’
It’s supposed to feel amazing for the woman—but it means your partner is stuck inside you. You two don’t get to separate until things calm down.
The idea of it is… daunting.
Lucan catches my wrists. His eyes are a little crazed when he meets my gaze directly. “Yes, I’ll knot inside you. I won’t be able to pull out. And Susan, if I get inside this—” I squeak as his hand grips me between my legs, his middle finger pressing upward with enough force to make my body hum “—sweet little slit, I’m going to fill you with cum.”
Shocked by his language, completely titillated, my vaginal vault, which I’ve never heard before in my life, laughs evilly and whispers that this is an excellent idea.
My brain tells her to get ahold of herself because this is really irresponsible.
“But if you want to risk it,” Lucan adds, searching my eyes so deliberately that I’m all but igniting under his unusually strong stare, “You’re not at your fertile peak.”
I blink. My period is due any day, and of course he can smell that. He’s a werewolf.
Lucan nods like I’ve said this out loud. “Susan, I want to come inside you, badly.” He glances away quickly, embarrassed—but then his eyes shoot back to mine. “If you want me to.” He adds, “I know this isn’t ideal.”
No, it isn’t. But the desire on his face humbles me. His hopeful, hungry eyes make my heart inflate and my lower belly flutter.
What’s the worst that could happen? He should be STD free—not only because he’s never been with anyone, but because werewolves are supposed to be immune to all the normal human ailments. What’s the next huge concern? A Lucan baby.
My womb clenches, and I swear Lucan looks ten times sexier than a second ago. I can almost hear my ovaries titter, “But a Lucan baby would be adorable, and just think! Maggie would be thrilled...”
I shake myself, hard. “What are your pheromones doing to me?” I ask him. I even wag my finger in his face. “This isn’t responsible.”
And yet… my excitement has reached an insane peak. I want Lucan terribly—I want to have sex with him, and I want to make love with no barriers. I want the closeness, I want to feel him skin to skin, have him fill me up until I’m dripping his cum. And if there are consequences later…
I stare into his eyes—and he holds my gaze.
He takes my hand. “Tá mé i ngrá leat,” he declares. “I'm in love with you,” he translates. “And if I knew the words to say it,” he adds seriously, “I’d tell you that I love you more than Maggs loves ice cream.”
I laugh. But hearing him purr his declaration in Irish Gaelic is too much for me. I leap on him, attacking his face with kisses, throwing my arms around him.
He clutches me back, and then he dips me so that I’m hovering above the covers. “Yes?” he asks.
“Yes,” I pant into his neck before I nip him, the taste of his skin waking up my senses, making my tastebuds sing with his potent hit of sweat, woods, and man. Lucan.
He growls in response to my little bite and drops me to the bed, letting me bounce once before he’s climbing on me.
“You’re sure?” he asks, dark golden eyes flickering bravely between mine.
Splaying one hand on his hard chest, which has an excessive crest of hair that’s less a treasure trail and more an overgrown line of jungle, I whisper, “I am. Make love to me, Lucan.”
Groaning, he rears back, admitting, “I don’t even know where to start.”
I poke my tongue into my cheek, mostly successful at curtailing the smile trying to take over my face. “Here.” I take one of his big hands and place it on my breast. “Tease me like this,” I say, instructing him to arouse my areola. I nudge his thumb with mine, instructing him on how I’d like him to touch me, breath growing ragged as he gently teases my nipple into a peak.
He stares down at me, expression naked with wonder, his eyes huge. His gaze is locked on my breasts like they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen or been allowed to touch as he palms them, squeezes them, kneads them.
It makes my stomach warm, to watch him take me in like this. My toes curl, digging into his thighs, my body blissed out as he carefully caresses me. His cock thumps my belly, leaking on me, leaving a little trail of coolness everywhere his fire-hot tip touches.
He’s not the only one dripping. Creamy hot slickness leaks from my sex, wetting—soaking—my curls. Unable to stand the emptiness another moment, I reach past his arm to take hold of him. I give him a tug.
Lucan’s grunt sounds more like he’s choking.
His thick flesh kicks so hard, for a moment, I wonder if he just came.
But I run my thumb over his tip, feel him thump in my hand, and receive nothing but a trickle of precum. Ah, so that was only his cock leaping with excitement. Whew!
Breath held, I take his shaft more firmly into my hands and aim it down, angling it away from his abdomen and pointing it at me.
Squeezing my breast, watching me take him in my grip, Lucan’s chest vibrates with a deep purr. It’s a sound of encouragement—and pain. He needs this as badly as I do.
But holding him this way, I’m beginning to get misgivings. He’s big.
“Sit up,” I pant.
He immediately does, his reach long enough he’s able to continue fondling my che
st even as he grants me the access we both need.
Burning and hungry with lust, I wetly lick my hands and jack him with my fists, spreading my spit and his precum over his overly-large crown and down the arc of his shaft. My attention has him lurching forward with a low moan, thrusting into my hands. His eyes meet mine a second before he devours me in a kiss.
Aiming the fat head of him along my cream-soaked lips, teasing him up and down, slicking him more thoroughly, I gasp when he makes an eager little thrust, bumping his tip inside me.
“Susan,” he breathes roughly, face a beautiful mask of erotic strain.
With the spongey, hot head of him seated at my entrance, his hips flex with an instinctual thrust, shoving in an inch.
We both make breathy, almost pained sounds of pleasure.
Panting, he pulls back, withdrawing fully before his eyes meet mine, shockingly direct.
Bringing my knees up along his sides, I lock my ankles over his back, signaling that I’m ready. But in case he needs the words, I encourage him. “Fill me up, Lucan. I want to feel all of you.”
His cock forcefully pulses, and he slams in, stretching me, filling me with his hardness, making me cry out. AND HIS CURVE. Feeling it work its magic, I moan and fall back, my neck going full rubber noodle. His special dick is hugging my g-spot, and when he begins to pull out, it adds a dragging pressure before he slides in again, cupping it with his hardness.
The muscles along my inner thighs begin to quiver.
It’s real work to raise my head, but I want to watch.
Propped up on his arms, Lucan is watching too. He’s staring at his cock’s slow retreat, pulling out from my puffy lips all glossy and wet. And then he angles himself, sinking in again, looking wonderstruck as he brushes a careful thumb along my obscenely stretched labia.
His eyes meet mine, and darken.
“I want to touch you,” he shares. “Like this.” To my surprise and delight, he means my clit. He strums it, the gentle manipulation making me moan his name.
“Show me what you like,” he orders, riding an edge of need that’s plain in the gruffness of his voice.
I sit up on an elbow and reach for his hand, guiding his fingers to touch me while he thrusts. I offer to take over, but he jerks his head in negation. Wanting to please me this way himself.
I’m not about to argue. His intrinsic impulse is to satisfy me, and I’m kind of in love with this about him.
He coaxes my body into giving him what we both want: I come with the force of an explosion, crying out his name as he watches me raptly, hissing, “Yesss, Susan, just like that.”
My insides flutter strongly around him, a squeezing treat he apparently wasn’t expecting—or maybe it just feels better than he could have ever hoped for. His lips part in shock and he goes still inside me, absorbing the sweet clenching he’s wrought.
They’re the strongest contractions I’ve ever experienced during an orgasm, making me wonder if my body has been waiting for Lucan all my life, and I didn’t even know it.
“Wow,” he gasps, dropping his head back, swallowing hard, baring his teeth as my pussy continues to ripple tightly around the length of him. And—if possible, he feels like he’s getting bigger every time my insides squeeze him.
“Your cock is huge,” I pant, staring up at the corded muscles of his throat.
He makes a pained sound and tucks his chin to his chest, growling as he draws back his hips and flattens over me, starting to hug me to him.
As he does, there’s suddenly a weird, firm tug on my insides. It has me sucking in a breath. “Stop!”
Lucan has already stopped though. His face is a mask of, if not pain, then discomfort.
I can’t help the tiny burst of panic. “Are we—”
“I’ve knotted.”
I clear my throat, preparing to seek further confirmation of what my body already knew. I slip my hand between us, and he shifts himself above me to better facilitate my access, his abdomen twitching against the back of my wrist. I find our connection, my fingers bumping his shockingly hot cock where it’s locked tightly against my swollen lips.
On the inside, I feel him, swelled up huge, jammed in place.
My pussy is in shock, a little scared that it’s crammed full and we can’t escape. “So… we’re stuck together?” I ask, voice tight.
“Yes. We are.” Golden eyes flash to mine. His face is tight with worry. Or discomfort. He shifts, sitting up, his knees adjusting near my ass.
But just this little movement has his cock shifting, and when it does, I feel a strong… snagged sensation. “Don’t! My vagina is caught on you. Like a fish on a hook.”
Lucan blinks down at me. “Is now an acceptable time to tell a crappie one-liner?”
I stare into his face, gaping at him. “Was that a fishing joke?”
He nods warily.
I reach up and cover his mouth with my hand. “No. Nope, you don’t need to tell bad jokes to de-stress right now.”
“Sorry,” he says softly into my palm. His eyes are so luminous and earnest.
A little afraid to hear the answer, I stroke along his fully bearded jaw, asking, “How long will it be before we’re unstuck?”
Now he looks away, his gaze falling between us—but then he’s squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.
Inside me, I feel everything becoming tighter. “Are you getting bigger?”
Through a hiss, he nods. It isn’t a blissed-out, excited sound.
“Does this hurt you?” I question.
He nods again. “In the best way, but… yeah.”
“Is there a way to make it better?”
“Kiss me,” Lucan says, sounding a little ill.
Only hesitating a little as his fullness tugs at me, I take his arms and drag him down over me until his chest hair is tickling my nipples—and I gasp.
Like this, my g-spot is thrilled by the pressure.
Our mouths meet, clumsy. His lips soften after a moment, and he angles his head, his tongue tentatively running along the seam of my lips until I part them, and he strokes his tongue along mine.
As he does, some of the stinging, stretched-sensation at my entrance eases.
Better.
“Touch me,” he whispers, and I run my fingers over his shoulder, up his neck, into his hair. I hug him to me, stroke his back, drag my nails over his skin.
His knot’s swelling goes down considerably. He’s still hard as a rock though, something I can’t say I don’t appreciate. I’m getting that slow-build excitement tingling behind my pubic bone. A few more minutes of his curved cock’s hugging attention and I think I could come from this.
I slide a hand between our chests and tangle my fingers in his pelt, tugging on it, making him suck in a breath. “If I could reach your balls,” I whisper, “I’d do this.” I rake my nails down his shoulder blades. “See if you liked that.”
The idea must sound really exciting. Because without warning, he rams himself forward, knot shoving deeper, balls spanking me, making me squeak in shock—and he freezes, holding himself deep as a jet of fire-hot cum splashes my insides.
“Annh!” I shout, or maybe he does. I definitely make a sound when I’m hit with a second spurt of hot werewolf cum—and that’s when my orgasm, the one his cock had been nudging me towards, breaks over me. It’s the light-up-your-world kind, and my pussy clamps down on Lucan so hard that I get kicked with the biggest fire-hot jet.
He’s emptying himself inside me.
And rather than spilling out like cum should, it stays trapped, filling me up, so hot it’s scalding. “Lucaaaan,” I moan, my insides quivering.
“Sorry,” he pants into my neck, and then he kisses and even licks my throat. “Sorry if I hurt you.”
He feels great on top of me. He feels amazing inside of me. His dick is twitching, strong thumps inside my pussy, steady as a heartbeat. And still, we’re locked together, the plumped knot at his base crammed deeper than before, stretching me right to the t
hreshold of pain. But the warmth of his trapped cum feels so… comforting. It’s like a whole new layer of bonding as I absorb him from the inside out. “You surprised me,” I murmur. “But I’m not hurt.” I languidly draw my fingers through his hair, and he shudders on top of me.
We stay connected like this until I’m almost dozing. And it feels wonderful, to hold each other this close. It doesn’t matter that it’s due to his body’s biology that we’re forced to stay together—if you set the natural instinct to panic aside, this is wonderfully reassuring. Like the most perfect way to come down from such an intense shared experience. Lucan has wrapped his arms around me, holding me, letting me feel his full weight—maybe because he doesn’t know that most guys would worry about crushing their girl, or maybe because I feel as good under him as he feels on top of me.
His hands gently knead me, slowly sweeping up and down my back, massaging what he can reach and grip. Quiet. Soft.
Occasionally, his shaft jumps inside me, making me bite down on my lips so I won’t squeal. It makes my channel contract, every time he has a strong flex, which in turn seems to be prolonging the swelling of his knot.
I scratch his back, loving the way he moans and growls a little behind my ear. He stays stretched out on top of me, squishing me in the best way. And finally, the tugging sensation everytime we shift eases to the point that I don’t feel like my pussy has been fish-hooked. The slow crawl sensation of his dick softening—of the welling of fluids as they’re permitted to exit, it has me biting my lip. They slide down my crack and begin to pool under us like a dam has broken.
“I need to clean up,” I tell him, preparing to scoot out from under him.
Lucan raises himself, his eyes jumping to mine, his pupils swelling with sexual excitement. “Allow me,” he says, his voice huskier than a moment ago. And suddenly he’s moving down my body.
He fits his hands confidently under my thighs, slides his grip to my knees, and sits back to stare between my legs with a predator’s hunger.
“You don’t have to—” I start.