by Amanda Milo
He leans in close. “Shhh.”
My body lights on fire to have him shush me. And then he inhales, one hand releasing my leg so he can touch me, squeezing my tender lips on either side of my entrance, where I feel puffy and sore and so good.
“I have to taste you,” he declares, voice guttural, rough. And then he does, his tongue broad and hot and perfectly wet as he applies it to my overheated flesh. He drags it upward, licking our cum from me, making my mouth drop open.
I’ve been gone down on before sex—but never after. It feels… it feels like it should feel dirty.
What it is is hot.
“Ungh!!!” I squeal-grunt, a high-pitched, breathy sound that has him growling and shoving my knee to the side, knocking me wider with his shoulders as he pushes closer like this is a dessert that could be stolen from him. Guarding me like he doesn’t want to share his delicacy.
He laps at me like he’s starving, his beard tickling my ass and the insides of my thighs and making my muscles tremble and quake as he cleans me up greedily.
“My clit,” I beg, mindless. I’m on the verge of coming again but I need more stimulation. “Please!”
Lucan digs a thumb right beside my entrance, bracing his hand to raise the flesh of my mound with his forefinger, really exposing my clit—and he dives for it, latching on, sucking hard.
I scream his name, and he begins to hit my sweet spot with firm, fast strokes of his tongue. I’m shaking on his face hard enough to make my teeth chatter.
Proving he has an innate talent for this form of exercise, he expertly flattens my clitoris with his tongue, adding pressure that feels so right—before he forces his lick into a point and begins to tease my pearl into standing straight up for him, to peek out of its hood, exposed to his attack.
He catches it, cupping it with his lower lip, and sucks.
“Lucan!” I gasp, shattered.
Gripped in his commanding hands, dying beautifully with every lash of his tongue, I see all the stars of heaven. My back curls up from the bed, forcing him to trap my pelvis with a broad, commanding palm. This stops me from wiggling away, forces me to be still, allowing him the access to clean me up in this primal, determined way.
Mouth against my sex, Lucan growls—setting off flutters inside me that have me gasping. He goes at me until I’m bucking on his face, my toes pressed to his shoulders, back arching, the sensations so strong he’s making me squeak every time his tongue laps at me. My fingers are in his hair, gripping—I thought it was to push him away, but as another orgasm strikes me out of nowhere, I realize I’m holding him hard against me, knuckles tight to his scalp until I finish.
This time, with my body twitching and unfurling beneath him like a rubbery noodle, Lucan eases back—his throat vibrating with a deep, ultra satisfied noise that has my eyes rolling back in my head.
He carefully arranges my legs, which is nice of him. I can’t feel my feet. There’s not one part of me that I can move on my own. I’m not even sure if I’m breathing.
“Was that good?” Lucan asks, gaze meeting mine as he drags the back of his arm over his glistening mouth and soaked chin.
“You’re incredible and I love your face,” I manage to say, despite my lips and all the muscles of my mouth feeling too relaxed to properly form words.
Shyly, he smiles, his eyes warming. His hair is curled and sticking up and tousled like he just made a woman come her brains out.
“You should wear your hair like that every day,” I tell him, arms splayed, still unable to move.
Curious, he reaches up, running a hand through his hair—and he stops, realizing it’s mussed from me hanging on to it.
The look that comes over his face. His eyebrows go up high, surprised. But then a carnal, satisfied light enters his eyes and his shy smile curls into a wicked, wicked grin.
“Lucan,” I breathe, mouth curving up. “I think we’re corrupting you.”
He shakes his head, gaze dropping to my throat—then he surprises me by making a slow, decadent perusal of my naked body. “Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence…” His eyes flick up to mine, dancing, playful even as his expression flirts with seriousness. “Did I treat you with consideration?”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“With kindness and generosity?”
I manage to raise my leg, bend my knee, and hook him at his waist with my foot. “You did. You treated me kindly and very, very generously.”
“Think I treated you properly with consideration?” He asks. “With indulgence?”
I lazily turn my gaze up to the ceiling—shiplap boards the color of honey, beautiful—and pretend to think about it. “I suppose you did.”
“Mmm,” he murmurs, his hand closing around my shin, caressing. Then his fingers tighten and he angles my leg so that my knee bends outward, keeping me open wide for him. “And likewise, you were the picture of benevolence with me. You were very,” he bends down and places a kiss on my mons that makes me jump, “kind, showing me much benignity and… liberality,” he says, brushing his lips on my lower stomach, across my stretch marks and belly skin that I normally feel self-conscious over due to its loss of elasticity, thanks to carrying two babies. But with Lucan so lovingly showing me attention, I’m not struck with an unwanted awareness of my body’s imperfections.
Under Lucan, I don’t feel imperfect.
“This wasn’t corrupted,” he declares. “This was perfect.”
He’s right about that.
I clear my throat. “Do you—does your penis make a knot every time you get excited?”
Glancing at my face, he pulls his fingertips from where they were tracing the lines on my belly and rests his hands on my knee and my waist, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to touch me. “Yes.”
I nibble my lip, meeting his eyes while he’s able to gaze into mine directly. “Does it hurt more than it feels good?”
“It still feels good,” he assures, less embarrassed than me about talking about this. “It’s all I know.”
Fair point. “Okay,” I say, taking a breath and letting my words out in a rush. “I’d like to taste you. If I held your knot in my hand while I gave you a blowjob, maybe you’d like that? Do you want to come up here and, um, sit on my face?”
Lucan freezes, his eyes widening for the briefest moment.
And then he’s climbing on top of me, moving to pin me under him. As we get into place, he shares with fervor, “If it’s too soon to tell you that I love you again, then can I say that I’ve been waiting my whole life to find you? Because, Susan? I have.”
I don’t answer him in words. Instead, I draw the tip of his already stiff cock into my mouth and meet his shocked, heated eyes as I take my first suck.
CHAPTER 45
LUCAN
Lying side by side with Susan, our breathing slowing, gazing at each other (me looking mostly at her throat which inevitably leads me to ogle her breasts) just soaking in the endorphins while they bind to receptors and release dopamine throughout our systems.
I feel great. It felt better when I was lovingly holding her in my arms, but we lasted only a few minutes of this before she felt like she was being burned alive and I was pretty certain I was going to go up in flames if I tried to keep her body tucked against mine for much longer. In the future, we’ll need to consider opening a window to pull in a decent chill. When it starts snowing, there’s a good chance we’ll be able to withstand prolonged full-body contact without testing if she’s secretly a phoenix shifter.
“What are you thinking?” Susan asks.
“I’m wondering if I can make a joke about you being a phoenix for as hot as you are,” I tell her. If we try to spoon, one or both of us is sure to reach the temperature for spontaneous human combustion.
Her smile is slow and beautiful. “Thank you.”
It pleases me that she took it as a compliment—because she deserves to. She absolutely is hot in both senses of the word. Ask anyone who’s s
een her when she’s wearing her Daisy Duke-worthy work shorts and her indecently small tank top. But naked? Sweet Mary, mother of Mac tíre, as Finn would say. Susan is magnificent.
I lace our fingers together and give our grip a scrunch. “What, ah, what are you thinking?”
She shifts onto her side, propping her head up with the heel of her hand, her tangled, work-styled hair falling all over. “The future. This changes a lot of things.” Her mouth twists and her gaze goes to the ceiling like there’s a list up there. “I’m thinking about the kids. About the house. My house, that is, now that I know you have this place. I only got the briefest impression of your kitchen here, but if you don’t have a slanted floor like ours—”
“Perfectly level. You could set a bag’s worth of marbles on the kitchen counter and they’d stay there.”
“That sounds amazing. I’m also thinking about Brooke, Ginny’s mom. And I need to pee so I don’t develop a UTI.”
“Wow.” I stare at her throat. “And here I thought you might be considering the merits of a nap. You’ve been on your feet all day so I figured you’d crash with me for a few minutes.”
She laughs and pats my chest, then gives my chest hair a tug that has my cock twitching. “I’ll be passed out before 9pm now, I can promise you that, but sex is better than coffee for reviving me.”
“Really?” I say, intrigued. “Does the sleepiness go away with practice or something?”
I watch her mouth tug up into a huge grin. “Well, you were on top for all activities, doing almost all the work. Next time, maybe I’ll ride you and then—”
I’ve caught her up and tossed her on top of me before she can finish speaking. I LOVE EATING PUSSY—and I can’t wait to do it again.
She curls into my chest, covering her face, unsuccessful at smothering a giggle. It’s an unexpected, cute sound coming from her. “I didn’t mean now. We should get back to the girls, make sure they’re okay.”
I pet her hair, thinking the girls are probably doing great and I’d really, really like to find out if I’m more invigorated after another round of sex. Afterwhich, I’ll get Susan to ride my face—
But she’s right. We should check in on the girls. For all that Maggie is in love with Liam, she’s going to start wondering why her mom isn’t back yet. She might worry.
“All right,” I croon up at her, drawing my hands down her back, loving the feel of her silky smooth flesh—awed that she’s mine to touch now, just like she’s proven I’m hers. Her scent is turning just the faintest bit coppery, and I know what that means. I find the areas on her lower back that I’ve frequently seen her rubbing when her cycle starts torturing her, and I dig my thumbs in and start kneading.
She melts into liquid on top of me—and her moan is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Um, Susan?” I tell her. “If you keep making noises like that, I either have to stop what I’m doing or we’re going to be late seeing the girls.”
She chuckles into my neck, making gooseflesh pop up everywhere on my skin. “Please don’t stop. You’re going to think this is crazy, but I bet I can almost come from this.”
It turns out that it’s the second session of lovemaking that makes both of us tired. We get sucked into a nap, with her dozing on top of me, bathing me in the luxurious feel of her slight weight draped over my chest. And luckily, despite how warm we are, neither of us catches fire.
When we regain consciousness, it’s dark outside the windows—and Susan’s eyes are barely open when she’s fumbling for her phone to check to see if she missed any SOS messages.
She didn’t, and she’s relieved—but the silence also makes her a bit anxious.
“Let’s go check on them,” I tell her, helping her up. The moment she stands, my cum and her fluids slip out of her, perfuming the air even more. Feeling only a little dirty, I tug her to a stop just long enough that I can raise her leg and watch the pinkish-white stream run down the insides of her thighs.
I brush at it with my thumb, bringing our taste to my mouth. On the insides of her legs, cum crusts have formed from when we were tied together, since I had her ride my face before sex.
It feels negligent not to take proper care of her after.
She watches me lap the rivulet’s drop from my thumb with a disturbed little look on her face—but when I meet her gaze, there’s interest in her eyes too.
I incline my head, indicating her pussy. “I want to eat you again.”
“I find your fascination with this act way too hot,” she admits, staring at my mouth before meeting my eyes, making me drop my gaze to her clavicle. “But raincheck?”
I nod, but offer, “Let me get you a washcloth.” I almost let her hand go. But we don’t have to separate. I haul her into the bathroom with me.
She’s embarrassed but receptive when I draw a warm washcloth between her legs, running it down the insides of her thighs until I’ve cleaned up everything. Feeling her gaze warming the top of my head, and loving the way her hands grip my shoulders as I carefully brush the cloth over her sensitive areas—it’s a pleasurable, intimate few moments. Doing this together indefinably changes the charge in the air; this act of aftercare making us feel even closer.
But then she surprises me by not being able to urinate because I’m in the bathroom with her.
“Even though we just made love?” I ask as she gently guides me backwards, her hand planted in the middle of my chest. “Twice?”
She shuts the door in my face. “I’m sorry! I actually need privacy to pee. I didn’t grow up as a werewolf.”
I peer at the door, confused. Don’t human women visit bathrooms in packs? What are they doing in there if not peeing together? I wonder if all humans are socialized so poorly or if this is just Susan. Bewildered, I decide I’ll have to ask Finn.
CHAPTER 46
SUSAN
Big floodlights have been set up on a knoll near the dens. Clearly for the humans’ benefit, as werewolves can see as well as a dog in the dark. The kids are still playing. That they have the energy to run and roughhouse is almost enough to make a person over thirty envious, but honestly, I’m relieved.
They’re okay.
Judging by the way they’re running around on the grass, playing soccer and racing with the Pack kids like long-time friends, they’re going to crash on their faces and sleep like rocks tonight—but they’re doing okay. More than, with the way they’re laughing and giggling.
Finn spots us, gives us a Chesire cat’s grin, and pops us a wave.
“I need to ask you about humans’ urination habits,” Lucan calls to him, and practically all the werewolves in the vicinity give us curious stares.
I slowly turn to the man beside me, but disbelief has stolen my words.
Finn’s face screws up, and he darts a look between us. “Deek, lad, I was hoping we’d be talking about topics more fun than this. Good grief, man. This sounds like something I won’t like sticking my nose into. In fact, this is me refusing to get involved.” He backs away, taking off without giving Lucan a chance to expound on his question.
His surprise squeamishness makes me laugh.
As we rejoin the girls, it’s clear that Charlotte, Ginny, and even Maggie are way too aware. Of everything. I swear I feel Ginny and Charlotte giving us appraising looks. They suspect we did what we did, and as Lucan’s body stays close enough to brush mine, my pair of eldest look positively gleeful, looking a little creepy in the harsh glare of the floodlights, but they’re thrilled, not upset, so it’s a good thing.
When the kids are ready to file inside for the night, we say our goodbyes to others who won’t be joining us and head for Night Howl. We file in with everybody else who lives in this den, but Lucan murmurs that he’s a bit hungry, so we stop in the kitchen, which feels really strange to be in when it’s empty. Without it being full of jostling, starving werewolves, it also looks huge.
We all take seats at the giant trestle table, Maggie showing me her grass-stained knees, Charlott
e and Ginny darting looks between Lucan and me, whispering.
He’s preparing a tray of food for us, and I wonder if he can hear what they’re saying. In fact, as I stop watching the girls and start looking Lucan over, I think the tops of his ears are turning pinker. He’s definitely beginning to sprout some additional hair. His face is turning shaggy with beard fur.
My direct attention catches his, and he glances at me, meeting my eyes long enough to send me a proud smile that makes my heart beat faster.
He brings the tray of meats and vegetables over for the girls and me to nibble on, and he makes something he refers to as a sandwich, but which is actually just half of the butt end of a baked cow, I swear. He takes a healthy bite of it as he moves to sit right beside me at the bench seat. He’s only in (hairy) human form long enough to pull a pickle off the pile and toss it back before Maggie erupts, “Deek! Is it true you and Mom are going to get married and have puppies?!” and he turns full wolf.
He sighs, there on the floor, caught in his shirt and pants while his prepared meal waits on his plate for him.
And to my surprise—maybe everyone’s surprise—with effort, he slowly transforms back into a man, only having to make minor adjustments to his clothes. He takes his seat, clears his throat, and leans forward, angling around me to stare Maggie dead in the eye… or shoulder, actually. “Your mom and I haven’t gotten to talk about it yet.”
Maggie is not deterred. “I want ones just like Liam.”
“Maggggie,” I chide.
“And if you can’t do that, I just want Liam,” she goes on.
“Maggie!” I warn sharply.
She turns wounded eyes on me. “What?”
“You’re making Lucan uncomfortable. Stop. It’s not polite.”
Maggie’s eyes dart to Lucan. “Did I do that?”
“Make me uncomfortable?” he asks. When she nods, he smiles off to the side of her face and holds up one big thumb and a forefinger. “A little bit.”
“And besides,” I add. “You can’t order sibling gender or… or ability. No one is in control of that,” I tell her.