Page 43 of Reformed Wolf

He was buck-ass naked on all fours on the bed I’d convinced him to keep. It was huge and took up most of the room, but it was so worth it. He’d been stubborn as hell, though, insisting we hand the larger cabin over to our Alpha and his family. He’d promised me he preferred the “smaller, cozier” space—his words. I figured he was just doing the couple a favor since Malachi was really cramping their sex lives, which made them grumpy assholes. And once their new baby was here—due any day—they would really need the extra space.

“What about if I do… this?” I asked, crooking my fingers inside him, and he gasped, writhing. Slick was dribbling down his thighs, so I had to be doing something right. I leaned closer, my face sandwiched between his cheeks, to lap some of it up on my tongue. By scissoring my fingers, I could insert my tongue between them.

He made a low, guttural sound, part moan, part groan, but it quickly cut off. “I… I can’t,” he whined, frustrated. “I promise, it’s not you. It feels really good, but my hips are aching so badly, I can’t concentrate on all the awesome things you’re doing back there.”

Dylan was massive—and I meant that in the nicest, please-don’t-claw-my-eyes-out way. The summer had been long and hot, no doubt made hotter for him by being pregnant. I’d taken him down to the pond every day this week so he could soak in the cool water.

Hey, that’s an idea. “We could go back to the pond, if you want. I could fuck you right there in the water, or maybe in the mud.”

“That is… so not sexy,” he said, shaking his head as he shot down my idea, but at least he was laughing.

“I can make anything sexy,” I purred, sinking my teeth into his ass and leaving a little love bite, then I licked away the sting, making him groan.

“What about the shower? Is there water in the tank?” he asked, panting.

I chuckled against his flesh. “You drained it this morning, remember?”

He whined, dropping his head to the mattress. “Let’s just try a different position.”

“Anything my mate wants.” He whimpered as I pulled my fingers out, then I shuffled around to his side and offered him my hand. Rolling over was a two-person job these days. “What would you like? Do you want to lie on your side? You could be the little spoon, while I take you from behind?”

He sounded so dejected as he said, “I guess we can try that.”

“Orrrr I could just give you a blowjob so you can get some sleep?” I suggested, urging him onto his back. I knew he was exhausted, and while he would never suggest we do something that left me unfinished, I also knew he didn’t have the energy to fight me on this. And frankly, I just wanted to make him feel good. He deserved a break.

“But, babe, I—”

“Don’t worry about me,” I whispered, already easing myself down the bed to settle between his legs. “Just let me take care of you.”

As I slipped his hard length past my lips, adding a bit of suction, he let out a long moan. His salty precum was just an appetizer before the meal, and I wanted all of it.

“This would be so much hotter if I could see what you were doing,” he panted, tilting his head up to see over his round stomach. “All I can see is the back of your head bobbing up and down.”

“Think of it like a blindfold,” I said with a throaty chuckle, slipping my fingers back inside his tight entrance. “It’s all part of the tease.”

He dropped his head back on the pillow and angled his hips to grind against me as best he could. There wasn’t much he could do at this size, though. Moving at all was difficult, taking the two of us to get out of bed in the morning. He couldn’t even shift into his panther anymore, sacrificing his every waking hour to growing our son, and we still had another few weeks left to this pregnancy. As much as he complained about the discomfort, I knew he loved it. I often found him talking or singing to our son, rubbing a hand over his belly lovingly. When I’d crouched down and spoken at his belly button, Dylan had run his fingers through my hair and said, “He’s so excited to meet you.” And as much as it was a just a cute thing to say, I’d believed him. His words had a ring of truth to them.

My forehead bumped against the underside of his belly, and I smiled around my mouthful of cock. He just kept getting better and better. Back when he was a fancy city panther, he’d kept himself all waxed and smooth, wearing his designer fashion, product in his hair, cream on his skin. But now that we were out in the boonies, he’d “let himself go,” so to speak, and I was here for it. I loved when his hair got wavy in the humidity and curled across his forehead, how his newly callused hands rasped across my skin. And now that his giant belly kept getting in the way of his grooming, his dark, curly hair had regrown, and it was my not-so-secret delight. I brought his thick girth all the way in, nudging at the back of my throat, so I could nuzzle my nose into those curls.

His breathing sped up, those sweet, little sounds he made letting me know he was close. “My alpha…” he groaned. He dug his fingers deep into my hair, grabbing a fistful, and forced me lower until I nearly choked. I relaxed my throat and invited him deeper, my moans setting him off like a rocket.

Dylan cried out as he filled my mouth with his cum, and his tight ass clamped around my fingers. I did everything I could to keep my lips sealed around him. I didn’t want to spill a drop. His distinct flavor on my tongue left my own cock throbbing. Once I had him settled, I would have to take care of that, or I would never get to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, Dylan sank into the mattress. “Thank you,” he said on a blissed-out sigh, untangling his hand from my hair.

“Anything for you.” I kissed his belly once, twice, three times. Vesta had always said three was a lucky number. I hoped that didn’t mean we were about to have triplets. “I’ll be right back with a cloth to clean you up, baby.”

“M’kay,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

Sure enough, by the time I got back with a warm, wet cloth from the kitchen, Dylan was fast asleep, still right where I’d left him on top of the covers. I knew he wouldn’t sleep well in that position, so I planned to clean him up and then roll him over with his body pillow between his knees. I crouched down with the cloth, but even before I touched him, he sat bolt upright in bed. I hadn’t seen him move that fast all summer.

I jolted in surprise. “Gods, Dylan, you scared the shit out of… me…” I frowned, an uneasy sensation slithering up my spine. “Dylan? Are you okay?”

His gaze was unfocused, aimed somewhere past me. “They’re coming,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound like his. It was older, somehow, deeper, and it made me think of when Vesta had sent me to Fairhome to find my mate. Like he was connected to something beyond this world, beyond my understanding.

I crawled closer, unsure what to do. My heart was racing, my wolf pacing back and forth inside my mind. Dylan said someone was coming. If this was important, I needed to hear the message, but what if it was hurting him—or our son? I reached for him but hesitated. What if touching him made it worse? “Dylan? Baby? Who’s coming?”

His lips moved with a whisper so quiet I had to lean closer to hear him. “They’re coming, they’re all coming. Coming… from the south… they’re all coming.” His breath was fast, a light sheen of sweat forming on his brow. “Coming… Hurry, you have to…” His eyes began to flutter closed.

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