Page 37 of Cursed Wolf

Emmaline

Tryn lifted a brow, the tensions between us taut and simmering. “You’re sure?” His voice was low, quiet, but no less thick with desire.

His hesitation had me second-guessing myself. “Well, I don’t have condoms?—”

“Won’t need them.” The next thing I knew, he was moving. He carried me through the apartment effortlessly to the bedroom.

“Won’t need them?” I repeated right before he lowered me onto the bed, pressing me into the mattress with a deep kiss.

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he rasped against the crook of my neck. “As much as I’d like to.”

He lowered himself over me, pulling a gasp from my lips as I felt the solid length of his cock grind against my clit. My thighs snapped like a vice around his hips, urging him to stay.

“Then what—mm…”

His tongue slid against mine as he started small, shallow thrusts. The friction of our clothes directly over my clit had me squirming, aching for real penetration.

“I can use more than my dick to please you.” Tryn smiled against my lips, cocky and not at all nervous. Of course he wasn’t, he was a tall, musclebound biker for shit’s sake. He’d probably done this thousands of times, with hundreds of different women?—

“I love that brain of yours, but don’t think so much right now, Emmaline.” His next kiss was softer, sweeter. The warm rumble of his voice pulled me right out of my head. “Be here with me, beautiful. Just feel.”

Don’t think. Feel. The voice in my head echoed what he said.

In an effort to do just that, I barely lifted my head to kiss him again. My eyelids fell closed and I poured all of my focus into feeling Tryn. The softness of his lips contrasted with the roughness of his beard. The heat of him and the breadth of his body. My hands landed on his back and went searching. When I found the hem of his T-shirt, I dipped under it.

Oh, I did not expect his skin to be so soft. The muscles underneath were hard, but also moved with a fluid grace that I never wanted to stop feeling. I already knew he gave great hugs, but to feel him wrap around me skin-to-skin would be on another level.

As if reading my mind, Tryn made off with his shirt when our kisses broke apart for air. When he lowered to me again, his fingers drifted under my shirt slowly, giving me every opportunity to stop him.

I didn’t. I kissed him harder, molding my body to his. A strong hand lifted me a few inches from the bed, just enough to get my shirt and bra off.

“Fucking perfect,” Tryn murmured along my collarbone before kissing lower.

My gaze found the ceiling. Any other time, I’d be in my head again, wondering if I looked weird topless, if my chest was smaller than what he preferred. But what I was quickly figuring out was that Tryn knew how to make a girl feel.

The graze of his teeth on my nipple pulled me right out of my head. That, combined with his hand rolling my other breast, had me arching, pressing into him.

“Does this feel good, Emmaline?” The cocky lift of his lips told me he knew the answer to that already.

“Yes,” I whimpered as his tongue and teeth coaxed my nipple into an achingly sensitive peak.

His thumb swept over my other nipple, the edge of his hand stroking the sensitive underside of my breast. God, how did he just know every erogenous zone on my body?

That hand began to skim down my body, his palm flat and fingers wide like he didn’t want to miss out on touching every part of me he could. He left a trail of heat on my skin, my pulse pounding harder the lower he went. When he reached the top of my jeans he went directly over them, making no attempt to take them off. At least, not right away.

The momentary disappointment I felt was chased away by the pressure he applied between my legs, right where I needed it. My hips shot up from the bed, grinding into his palm like I was possessed. Tryn’s hand barely moved but remained firm and steady, molded to the most sensitive area of my body.

“Fuck,” he whispered roughly. “I love the sounds you make when you feel good.”

Awareness shot back into my body. Sounds? What sounds?

Tryn smothered those thoughts with a deep kiss, his hand rocking insistently between my legs. “Don’t start thinking. Just feel. Let me keep making you feel good.” He swiftly undid the button and zipper of my jeans, his fingers dipping inside. “I can’t wait anymore. I need to know how wet you are.”

Letting Tryn take control had been the right choice. He was so sure of himself, so confident in what he wanted. He left me no chance to be self-conscious, no time to get into my own head and wonder about how I looked, sounded, or smelled to him. Every time my thoughts started to spiral, he just made my toes curl with pleasure again.

Just like right then, as he caressed under the layers of my jeans and underwear. His fingers slid over my mound and I wondered if I had done enough grooming down there. Before I could think on it any more, his touch slid over my clit and down further to my core.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned loudly into the mattress next to my head. “You’re soaked. And so hot. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t taste you.”

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