He jolted when Ambrosio began removing Mr. Wolfe's boots, underpants and boxer briefs. Mr. Wolfe was now completely naked, his cock springing straight up in the air.
"I think you're wearing too many clothes now," Mr. Wolfe said. Uh-oh. Too late, he saw the predatory gleam cross his husband's features and realized Ambrosio had vengeance in mind.
"I'm sorry--" he started to say but Ambrosio pushed him back against the bed.
"Don't move," he snarled.
Mr. Wolfe didn't move a muscle. He lay there, wondering what would happen next.
For a long moment, Ambrosio did nothing. He remained on his knees, his breath whisking against Mr. Wolfe's thighs and still rigid cock. Mr. Wolfe held his breath when Ambrosio moved forward and captured his cock between his moist lips. For several seconds, he slowly drove Mr. Wolfe out of his mind, working his huge, thick shaft with the lightest sucking imaginable.
Over and over again, he drove his mouth up and down Mr. Wolfe's length. Mr. Wolfe could feel the telltale tingling at the base of his spine but it didn't peak. Ambrosio's sucking was deliberately gentle, yet relentless. Mr. Wolfe always thought of it as sexual torture.
Ambrosio came off him, suddenly standing and pressing his boot on Mr. Wolfe's torso.
Mr. Wolfe held his breath once more as Ambrosio toed his cock with the tip of leather. God, it felt so good.
"Stay there," Ambrosio barked.
Where else would Mr. Wolfe go?
He listened as Ambrosio moved around the bed. He heard the click of locks and the familiar sound of chains. He remained where he was, his cock still twitching with need for Ambrosio's mouth.
Ambrosio began removing clothes.
Mr. Wolfe began to tremble with excitement.
Next came the sound of boots hitting the floor, then Ambrosio was straddling his face, his cock descending into Mr. Wolfe's grateful, open mouth. They began suckling one another in a frenzied sixty-nine. Mr. Wolfe moved his hands up to his husband's tight ass, holding it, not that Ambrosio would take his cock away--yet.
Ambrosio fucked Mr. Wolfe's mouth hard and deep, his massive cock sliding into Mr. Wolfe's throat.
Then, Ambrosio rolled off him, earning a shout of protest.
"Quiet!" Ambrosio snapped.
Mr. Wolfe loved his partner's forcefulness and almost came when Ambrosio dragged him by the arms up toward the headboard. In one swift motion, he cuffed Mr. Wolfe's right hand to the bedpost. Another tug on his left hand and that became secured, too.
He knelt beside Mr. Wolfe, his hard cock looking delicious and inviting, but Mr. Wolfe knew better than to try stealing a taste. His whole body jolted when Ambrosio bent down and sucked first the right nipple into his mouth, then the left.
Mr. Wolfe knew what was coming next and almost screamed when the nipple clamps came down on each one. Pain rippled through him, followed by a wave of pleasure as Ambrosio sweetened the deal by reaching down to stroke his cock. Mr. Wolfe could see the haze of desire in his man's eyes.
Ambrosio leaned over and began to suck him once again.
"Open your legs," he demanded. Mr. Wolfe obeyed him, gasping with pleasure when Ambrosio began to lick and suck his asshole.
"Swarovski back pearl." Ambrosio lifted his head and swung a long silver chain over Mr. Wolfe's mouth. "Suck it, Wolfie."
Mr. Wolfe stared up at one of his favorite sex toys. He'd never experienced bottom jewelry until Ambrosio introduced it into their lives. The black pearl was perfect. Around the size of a dime, he could see its sparkle even in the candlelight. Four other smaller pearls moved up along the chain. Ambrosio let the first one fall into Mr. Wolfe's mouth. As the cold pearl touched his tongue, Mr. Wolfe sucked it, feeling the smaller balls linked behind it rubbing against his lips.
"Open."
Mr. Wolfe opened his mouth and Ambrosio removed the pearl. He began rubbing the chain against Mr. Wolfe's hole as he licked and sucked his reaching cock. With a flourish, he inserted the pearls into Mr. Wolfe, wrapping the dangling chain around his cock and scrotum. He leaned back, examining his handiwork.
Ambrosio gently flicked the right nipple clamp and then the left. The flicks grew a little more aggressive and Ambrosio leaned down, sucking Mr. Wolfe once more. Suddenly the clamping, the pressure in Mr. Wolfe's balls and cock seemed to surge through his body, to his nipples and up to his throat. Fire consumed him. The need to come, the insatiable desire to be fucked made him sweat.
He thought he would shoot before Ambrosio got a chance to shove his way inside him, but Ambrosio pulled on the cock-chain now, making Mr. Wolfe yelp in a jolt of pleasure-pain.
"Wait." Ambrosio's voice was a growl.
Mr. Wolfe nodded, unable to speak.
"Turn over."
Mr. Wolfe obeyed.
"On your knees."
Once again Mr. Wolfe did as instructed.
Ambrosio got off the bed and walked to the end of the bed. Mr. Wolfe waited, ass swaying in the air and heard the popping of the champagne bottle. Ambrosio returned to the bed, kneeling between Mr. Wolfe's parted thighs and began licking his ass again. He used his tongue to insert the last tiny pearl inside Mr. Wolfe who began to shake and shiver.
"Fuck," Ambrosio said and suddenly poured champagne all over Mr. Wolfe's ass. The chill of the liquid jarred his senses and he braced himself for Ambrosio's cock.
Ambrosio entered him quickly, the pearls nudging higher and higher inside Mr. Wolfe who kept begging for the huge eruption he knew would soon be his.
He let out a scream when the first black pearl hit his prostate.
Ambrosio held his hips and fucked him hard. He reached beneath Mr. Wolfe's shuddering, shivering body and plucked at the chain binding his scrotum.
Mr. Wolfe came so hard he saw stars. Black, shiny stars in a sea of Swarovski. He could feel Ambrosio coming deep within him and wished it could have lasted longer. But Ambrosio had promised him forever, and forever they would have.
Ambrosio whispered, "Food, my love."
Mr. Wolfe turned his neck, anxious for the bite he knew would sustain his man for another night and make them both come all over again.
As Ambrosio's canine teeth elongated and found Mr. Wolfe's jugular, Mr. Wolfe couldn't help thinking, how wonderful that natural enemies should become devoted mates...
His thoughts became merged with images of blood, beating hearts and a sky full of love.
Ambrosio stayed in him, by tooth and by cock.
It was the only way to come.
They both screamed their pleasure as bliss overtook them a second, even more powerful time.
* * * *
Ambrosio worried about Mr. Wolfe. He knew they had almost twenty-seven days until the next full moon, but his husband was such a perfectionist he wanted each assignment finished before his wicked transformation. Ambrosio assured him that if their assignments went longer, he could handle the workload but Wolfie refused to burden his husband with the sole responsibility.
Each time he went through the change, he became ill afterward.
I have no idea how he coped before I came along. I guess he just sort of managed.
Ambrosio stood naked in the kitchen, examining the contents of their fridge. He could rustle up a frittata. For an ordinary mortal, eating eggs on a daily basis would be catastrophic. Not that he is.
He pondered the idea a little longer, then decided on pancakes instead. A frittata would take too long and he wanted to get back to his sexy husband and their wonderful, warm bed.
"Ambrosio!" Wolfie called out.
"I'm in the kitchen, darling!"
"Then I'll come down and get my hug."
Ambrosio grinned as he began removing eggs, butter, milk and blueberries from the fridge.
As soon as Wolfie was in his arms, nothing else mattered. Not the phone call a few minutes ago alerting him to the fact that there'd been an attempted break-in at the Sotheby's warehouse. Not the messages he'd received from the workers at the LAX facility.
No.
Loving Wolfie came first. Feeding him and preparing him for another long day was paramount.
He touched his wedding ring and realized he hated taking it off each morning more than he ever thought he would. It bothered Wolfie too. Wolfie would keep staring at the white patch on his finger. Ambrosio couldn't do much about it. The rule had been Wolfie's after all. Ambrosio was proud of his ring. It didn't bother him so much that Wolfie took his off for work too, but it tickled him to no end that Wolfie minded Ambrosio not wearing his.
My Wolfie is so possessive. So sweet. So...
He jerked his thoughts back to the pancakes. He'd put a little too much salt in the batter. He added more flour and sugar and sprinkled in Wolfie's favorite pumpkin spice blend.
"Hmmm." Wolfie came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Ambrosio's body.
Everything about Wolfie was a turn-on. He was the loveliest looking man Ambrosio had ever met. He surrendered himself to Wolfie's kisses, then gently pushed him away. Ambrosio turned his face, nuzzling his man's cheek. No sign of the coarse wolf hair emerging yet.
A week before the full moon, Wolfie's hair sprang from his body like wildfire across parched grass. He became self-conscious of his long nails and suddenly misshapen knuckles and his wiry hair.
Ambrosio craved his husband even more during those days, if that were possible. Wolfie's need for sex was relentless in that final week. Ambrosio relished the countdown to what he called Cockaggedon.
He tossed blueberries and a few chopped hazelnuts into the pancake mix and began preparing the pan for cooking.
"Something's wrong." Wolfie could read Ambrosio so easily. His words were a statement, not a question.
"Breakfast first, bad news second."
Wolfie arched a brow at him. "Will it give me indigestion, this news of yours?"
"Maybe," Ambrosio admitted. "Does that mean morning sex is off the table?"
"Morning sex is never off the table in this house," Wolfie said, watching him spoon dollar sized mounds of batter into the spitting-hot frypan.
He loved the scent of pancakes. He loved the scent of all food, but rarely desired to eat it. The last thing he recalled actually eating was their blood orange wedding cake Wolfie had made from scratch. Ambrosio liked coffee and wine; sake in particular.
On the rare occasions they gave up their obsessive solitude and dined with friends, he could fake eating food, but could easily manage steak tartare when he found it on restaurant menus.
Wolfie loved raw meat, but often looked...well, wolfish, when he got his teeth into it, and tended to suffer indigestion after eating too much of it. He didn't like blood in his raw meat, one of the few differences between them.
He flipped the pancakes over, ladling them onto a plate.
Wolfie was pacing now, awaiting his breakfast and whatever news Ambrosio had for him.
Ambrosio whipped up a couple dozen small pancakes for his husband, satisfied with the results. He inhaled the aroma of the hazelnuts and turned to their massive French country table and carried the plate toward Wolfie.
They exchanged glances, Wolfie pushing a cup of coffee toward Ambrosio.
Ambrosio preferred his morning brew sitting on his husband's lap.
Wolfie grinned as Ambrosio crossed the table and sat on him. He could feel Wolfie's cock hardening against his ass and reached down to kiss him.
"I love you, Wolfie said.
"I love you, too." Ambrosio rocked a little, enjoying the sway he held over the cock trapped between his butt cheeks.
Sighing, Wolfie lifted him up slightly, allowing his now hardened cock to spring up, poking at Ambrosio's tailbone.
Hmmm...I hope he's not going to take too long eating breakfast. I have plans for his juicy dick.
Wolfie ate appreciatively, but quickly. "Okay," he said as he shoveled a huge forkful of food into his mouth, "What's going on?"
"Virginia called. That idiot blogger posted photos of some of the clothes from the Beckett collection on Twitter and boasted about going to the warehouse."
"Oh, no." Wolfie stared up at him.
Ambrosio swiveled around so that he was now sitting sideways on his husband's lap.
"Did we have a break-in?"
"An attempt." Ambrosio reached around behind his butt to stroke the delicious cock poised at his ass crack.
Fuck. I want him. I always want him. It's all I think about. Can I ever have enough him? Will I ever get close enough to him?
"What else?" Wolfie asked.
"The pixies are revolting."
Wolfie gave him a look of surprise. "Well, I know they are darling, but they do serve a purpose." He sipped his coffee. "Hmmm, hazelnut."
"No, my love. I mean, the pixies are on strike."
Wolfie stared at him. "What do you mean on strike?"
"Exactly what I said. They don't want to work."
"What do they want?"
"They say the maple syrup is cheap garbage that they want pure Canadian and nothing less."
"I thought that's what we'd given them," Wolfie muttered, looking genuinely perplexed.
"Actually, I checked the label on the container Virginia sent us and it's imitation stuff from Indiana."
"Imitation!"
Ambrosio sighed. There went his morning fuck. "It was a sticker plastered over the original label."
"I should have checked," Wolfie fretted. "My God. Imitation maple syrup is pure sugar. It's like giving crack to a two-year-old. They'll be bouncing off the walls and beating each other up."
"It's my fault," Ambrosio said, feeling wretched.
Wolfie frowned. "Nothing is ever your fault. None of us could survive without you." He rose from the chair, pushing Ambrosio off his lap. He stared at the table, whipped away the plate and cups, letting them clatter into the sink and picked up Ambrosio, placing him gently on the edge of their antique wooden bench.
"What are you doing? We've got pixie trouble!" Ambrosio gasped.
"I told you, sex is never off the table in this house," Wolfie said, grabbing Ambrosio's feet and pushing them up toward Ambrosio's knees.
Ambrosio fell back against the table. Nothing else mattered now except the sound and the feeling of Wolfie lapping at his waiting, wanting asshole.
Chapter 4
Ambrosio lost count of how many times Wolfie made him come just by licking his ass and cock. Wolfie had fire in his eyes as they showered and readied for work.
"There's something else I want you to wear," he told Ambrosio after selecting a pair of tight, black leather pants for him.
He opened his messenger bag and produced a black velvet box.
Ambrosio knew something naughty and delightful awaited him. "When did you have time to find this?"
"I made time. Open it." Wolfie looked so happy at his secret accomplishment that Ambrosio ran his fingers along the soft velvet before opening the box.
He stared inside at the two pieces of jewelry and almost fainted. Tiny, twisted silver rings surrounded by a star pattern worked in twenty-four carat gold.
Nipple shields.
Man, I've been coveting these for months.
"Wolfie," he said, finding it hard to shield his emotions, "You shouldn't have."
"But of course I should have. Your pleasure is mine."
Ambrosio touched the beautiful shields. Wolfie had brought such beauty into his life, such light.
"You're all the stars and rainbows. You're more than I ever dared hope I would have," Wolfie said, his voice filled with emotion.
"Oh, my God, I feel the same way about you. You're all that matters. You're all I care about."
Wolfie's mouth smothered his in a burning kiss that touched his very soul. Too soon, it was always too soon, Wolfie took his mouth from his and bent his face to Ambrosio's chest. He sucked each nipple until the nubs protruded and were very tender to Wolfie's tongue-touch.
When Wolfie slipped the shield over each nipple, Ambrosio knew he would be in for a long day of extended sexual desire. Endless
chafing against his T-shirt. He would undoubtedly have to wait until they were alone again for his internal flames to be extinguished.
So be it.
He'd find a way to drive his husband out of his mind the minute they came home.
Heh-heh-heh.
* * * *
They drove quickly to LAX, their wedding rings safe in Ambrosio's back pocket. As mutually obsessed as they were, they never fooled around once in work mode. It was the safest thing to do in case they ever slipped up in front of the crew. They had already called the other three and asked them to come an hour later.
Wolfie called Virginia, who told him that a security guard had prevented the break-in at the Sotheby's warehouse.
He put her on speakerphone so Ambrosio could hear her.
"Zara wants everything installed at a warehouse in Hollywood. It's an old carpet factory with a huge showroom on the ground floor and a hip music studio next door. She got the building cheap and it's in a hot part of town."
"What part?" he asked her.
"Hollywood and Cherokee."
"Yeah. That's hot all right. If you're a homeless person."
Ambrosio had to stop himself from laughing as Wolfie went on. "We can't store everything in an empty carpet factory. There might be mold. And dust mites. The place needs to be cleaned and properly prepared before we store any valuable, fragile fabrics in there. Besides, we have no security protection for the collection."
"I hadn't thought about those things," Virginia said.
Wolfie seemed furious now, but didn't convey his anger as he responded. "There is a wonderful warehouse facility with showroom features just off Sunset and Cahuenga." Ambrosio could tell Wolfie struggled to maintain his rage.
"Let me send you a link for it and you and Zara can get online and make an informed decision."
"Okay," Virginia said, sounding subdued. "Zara really likes this carpet factory. She says Marilyn Monroe once did a porn shoot there." She paused. "Or maybe it was the Black Dahlia. I forget which."
Wolfie glanced at Ambrosio. They both had to fight their instinct to laugh.
"Oh, and Virginia, please find me a container of genuine Canadian maple syrup. Today, please. And no more imitation stuff."
Mr. Wolfe Page 4