Page 41 of Cardinal House

Heart pounding, my breath heaving in and out of me, I stare up at him.

My protector, my saviour, my wolf.

No words pass between us, but I can feel his cock pressed firmly against my wet flesh, my legs spread wide to cradle Wolf’s hips. I flatten my feet to the deck, squeezing his sides with my bent knees, and then I curl my legs around his hips, crossing my feet at the ankles and tugging him down so he’s completely flush with me, letting his weight press me further into the deck.

There’s resistance from him, but not enough for me to relent. He comes willingly, and I can tell he’s only holding back some of his weight so as not to crush me. The press of thin, worn cotton against my naked flesh feels obscene, but the press of his thick, swollen shaft beneath has my hips rotating unabashedly. My knees tighten around him, and he gives in.

Grinding himself against me, his gaze holding mine, his nostrils flare wide, his breath coming hard and fast between his teeth. It’s like something else takes over, and neither one of us is completely ourselves. Lost in the throes of love and death, deep rooted want is the sharp reminder that we’re both still here.

Wolf draws back, staring down between us as he circles his hips, pressing himself against me so hard that the friction of his clothes feels like fire. He stills suddenly, his breath a wash of heat rushing over my face.

His whiskey coloured eyes find mine, holding my gaze and then he dips down, his lips barely a caress over my own, as he whispers, “Mine.”

Wolf bites my lip, my chin, his chest smushed up against mine so hard I can feel his heart, can feel the erratic thudding of it as though it’s beating inside the cavity of my own chest. His lips feather along my collarbone, his teeth grazing my shoulder.

“More,” I breathe, my fingers coming to rest against the base of his throat, the top of his chest. The whisper just enough to still him completely, even his breath is held in his chest, “More, Wolf, please.”

A whimper slips past my lips, breathless and needy as he growls, a deep grumble rolling its way up his throat as my bloodied nails scratch into his chest.

“Not all the way,” he tells me. Shaking his head, like the action is more for himself than it is for me, “Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay,” I squirm beneath him, his hands rough but gentle as he grasps my face, kissing my lips fiercely, “just, please, more.” I plead with my eyes, the pout of my lip as he lifts his head just enough to look down at me properly.

Without another word, he pushes up onto his palms, lifting one and threading it between us.

“Watch,” he instructs, gritting his teeth, his neck corded with strained tendons.

Wolf wraps his hand around his cock over his joggers, squeezing. He slips the elastic waistband down lower, exposing more of the neat, dark trail of hair that stretches from his navel to his cock. His Adonis belt carved like cut marble between his hips, but he doesn’t push them off, his cock still covered, the worn fabric almost moulded around his length in a way that makes my lip tremble seeing the size.

Wolf is a large man in every way, he’s six-foot-six, as broad as a house, and has muscles more solid than diamonds, but I didn’t think I’d have to worry about the size of his cock. I’ve never even thought about it until right now.

“Don’t move,” he whispers over my mouth, both of us still staring down, between the length of our bodies, “and just let me in.”

He brushes the tip of his nose across mine, his top lip ghosting across my mouth, and then the tip of his dick is pressing to my opening, pushing in no more than an inch, the material of his joggers between us. The wetness of my cunt soaking the fabric covering his dick, and he groans, watching as he drags the tip back out, the light grey material now a deep, dark charcoal.

“Fuck, Little Moon,” he breathes. “You are such a good girl,” he grunts, dipping back inside me, stretching me, the material rough against the silken opening of my pussy. “So pretty and pink,” he praises, lifting his eyes to mine, one hand planted beside my head, his other combing through the tresses of my hair, cupping the side of my head in his big hand. “Perfect little cunt, all wet, just for me, huh, baby girl?”

“Yes,” I respond breathily, my eyes on his as he pushes just a little further inside me, “just for you,” I gasp, the crown of my head grinding into the wooden floor, my spine curved and lifted in an arch from the deck. “Yes, Wolf.”

He shudders, his hips dropping lower so he’s further inside of me, his eyes heavy lidded, making me catch my breath at the slight burn. And then he’s pulling out, tearing his hand from my face and shoving his waistband down. Taking his cock in his hand and pumping it insanely hard, once, twice, and then he’s groaning, this deep, guttural, animal sounding roar, the slide of his hand a firm corkscrew curl up his length.

Cum shoots from his tip, painting me in his creamy release, hot, sticky ropes of white land on my pelvis, my belly, the top of my thigh. Wolf stares down at it, his back heaving with his panting breaths, he pushes up onto his knees, his cock hanging heavy and thick despite it going soft, it’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen.

The tip of that was just inside me.

My cheeks flush, warmth pooling in my belly, my thighs clenching as I stare at it, still exposed over the elastic waistband of his joggers. Shyly, I flick my gaze up onto Wolf, but he’s not looking at me, he’s staring at his hands as they come up to my hips and then he’s pushing his hands up my lower belly, rubbing his release into my skin, both hands landing in the streams of silky cum and massaging it into me. He watches his hands, and I watch his face, his eyes hard, a scowl settled in his brows like he’s taking this task very seriously.

My lips are parted, and even as he pushes too hard over some of my bruises, I don’t flinch, I don’t ask him to stop, and I know he would, if he knew it was hurting me, he’d ease off. But those tender spots his strong, thick fingers work over, just make me tremble with his attention, like he’s replacing the pain put there by someone else with a piece of him. It feels settling.

Heat between my legs warms my thighs, a quiver running through them as Wolf’s hands palm my breasts, his callouses catching my tight nipples, making me gasp, arch my back, push into his palms. His eyes lift to mine then, his face hard, features set like stone.

“I’m never letting you go, Little Moon.”

My chest rattles as my heart attacks my sternum in a quick, constant clap, thundering and battering my ribcage as his yellow-honey eyes latch onto mine.

There’s violence in the way he says the words, this black, glittering thread that wants to tether our souls together.

And I allow it to.

---