Page 90 of Wolf.e

“Antiseptic.” He smirks, taking a sip. “In case your sewing skills are a little rusty.”

“Careful,” I warn him, trying to make light of what's before me. “I’m the one with the needle.”

“Only because it's my right arm, hummingbird,” he says, his brow furrowed. I know it takes a lot for him to trust anyone, to let me take control.

Gabriel pours iodine onto his arm and uses an alcohol-soaked cloth to wipe it clean, the flesh is loose and open and that's where I come in.

“Two stitches max. Simple interrupted stitch,” he orders, approximating the edges of his wound.

I nod, because that I understand. He takes his latex glove off and places the needle in my hand from his sterile area.

“Fix me up, hummingbird, it’s all you.” With that, he turns and sits in front of me, placing his arm between my thighs, I start to feel my breath increase the same way it does when he chases me, but this time it's for totally different reasons.

“Come on,” he coaxes. “Get out of your head, if I bleed out because you don’t stitch me it’ll be considered murder.” He grins, and I laugh because I’m pretty sure that was just a joke, something I never thought I’d hear from him.

I take a deep breath and focus, bringing my face down in concentration as I poke the needle through his skin, his jaw ticks but he says nothing as I eye him in horror.

What am I doing? I ask myself for the thousandth time since I met him.

He nods and I continue, poking it through the top of his wound this time but not without great effort.

“You have thick skin,” I tell him as he sits watching my every move, making me even more nervous. I use the small forceps to pull the needle all the way through fully, tying a square knot., Then repeat the process a second time.

“Don’t pull it too tight,” Gabriel says as I work.

“I think it needs three,” I tell him as I eye it up. He inspects the wound and nods, turning slightly to allow me better access to the top of his arm for my last stitch. His free hand begins to graze the inside of my thigh, I flinch.

“You’re distracting the seamstress,” I tell him with a smirk, not looking away from my task.

“Let’s see how well you work under pressure,” he says in his deep timbre, so close to me it gives me goosebumps. “I need a distraction, you fucking shot me,” he adds, and I smirk as I focus, loving this side of him I never see—he seems light, playful… almost.

I push the needle through Gabriel’s skin for the last stitch as his fingers skim over my clit through my spandex shorts, I’m already on fire for him as he plays with me through the fabric. I moan as I tie my last stitch. I set my tools down and look at him, no worse for the wear, his dark eyes say he wants me, and I feel the energy shift in the room as the golden sun peers through the back wall of windows.

Gabriel’s hand moves to the valley of my heaving breasts, and downward over my belly button as I give his wound a final clean, becoming frantic to let him in. He turns his body when he sees I’m done, then abruptly lifts my ass off the counter and pulls my shorts and panties from me. I’m sweat-slicked and panting from the adrenaline of stitching him but I’m soaked just from his touch and proximity. Gabriel growls a deep sound from his chest as he’s met with my desire.

“I forgive you for shooting me…” he says, kissing up the inside of my naked thighs. “And I’ll reward you for hitting your target and for stitching me up. You’ve learned something new, one more thing that makes you stronger, little hummingbird,” he says as his tongue traces up my center.

I let my head fall back, finished with my work and relieved it’s over, I breathe out a moan as my hands move to his hair on instinct. Both of his powerful arms work now to pull me forward onto his face, gunshot wound forgotten.

“Your sweet pussy consumes me,” Gabriel says. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this dripping cunt on my tongue.”

I whimper at his words and remember his powerful body ready and willing for me to take aim. The fucked up thing is it spurs me on, and the way he looks right now, between my thighs, ominous and wounded, his words and his tongue have both desire and adrenaline racing through my blood.

My heart quickens in my chest as he feasts on my pussy with the fervor of a man who could've just died. It’s like it makes him even more hungry for me as he trades between pulling my clit into his mouth and lapping up every drop I offer him.

Gabriel pulls me to the brink of coming and then adds two fingers to my pussy, working them in and out of me in time with my bucking hips. I rock forward to the edge of the counter, slapping my hands backward onto it for stability, knocking some of our tools to the floor as he moves the flat of his tongue over me with perfect pace and pressure. I start to lose control. My legs shake and I shudder as a tight coil of lust rolls through me.

“Give me my reward now,” he says as he moves his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that offers me no choice but to fall apart within seconds of his command.

“Come on my tongue with my name on your lips, give me every last fucking drop,” he growls as I do just what he says.

“Gabe…” I cry, shortening his name, his response is to suck my clit into his mouth so hard I feel lightheaded.

“Again,” he says in a low rumble. He likes it.

“Gabe…” I repeat, his praise pushes me over the edge once more. He tosses my legs over his shoulders, I’m unable to hold them myself. I come hard on his tongue, just as he wanted, trying not to tear the stitches out that I just put in.

My orgasm continues as Gabriel doesn’t let up. I grip his hair so tightly I know it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to care or even notice.

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