Page 34 of Seduced By the Werewolves

“I don’t know about every day,” I say, my breath hitching when he kisses up to my shoulder. Little sparks of electricity are spreading across my body from each point of contact.

Then he leans back, looking into my eyes, and I find so much more there than I was expecting. If anyone in the world means what they say, it’s Quinn. His dark brown eyes, I realize, have equally long, dark lashes, and they’re so full of affection for me that I have to resist kissing him right there.

“I want to kiss you,” Quinn says. “And I can leave it at that, if you’re ready for me to go home now.”

Why does my heart fall at this last part? Of course I want him to go home. I need a night alone, don’t I? Besides, this is all moving fast. Everything was different just yesterday, and now it’s changing again. I’m collecting landscapers like Pokémon cards.

“I shouldn’t,” I say finally. That would be insane of me, completely and utterly deranged, to even consider anything more with Quinn. Because I know what kissing will turn into if my body has its way. It already knows it wants him, and that’s something I can’t give in to after last night.

I’m not that greedy. The last thing I want is to make them think I’m a slut.

I shiver at the thought. That’s the kind of thing my mother would say.

“Tiff,” Quinn says, drawing my attention back to him. “If you can’t, you can’t, and I understand.” He lowers my hand back to my lap. “But if it’s a ‘should,’ if you feel like you’re not allowed to do it for some reason...” His gaze is firmly locked on mine. “Then I want to ask why? Why can’t you have what you want?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t think of what I would say. The only other person here is Quinn. The only person who ever has to know is Quinn.

“I can just make you feel great and then get on my way.” He surreptitiously licks his lips. Immediately I wonder what he means by making me feel great, and my imagination conjures up all sorts of possible activities.

No, Tiff. Down. The sensible part of me says that I don’t deserve Quinn offering to pleasure me, no questions asked. No, I can’t do this after the night I had with Leon and Jace.

But I want to say yes. I want to know what Quinn has in store for me. And maybe, just maybe, it's not about deserving, but about living.

So finally, I say, “All right.”

With a grin, Quinn turns to face me. His arm curls around my back and he leans over me, urging me with his body to sink back into the throw pillow. When his face is inches away from mine, he presses a gentle kiss to my lips. Before I can return it, he slides down until he’s breathing against my collarbone, where he licks my exposed throat. His mouth trails over my sweatshirt, and I didn’t even put on a bra. Chastely, he kisses past my two pert nipples to my belly, which is poking out from under the top. He presses his lips to that, too, and then continues over my sweatpants.

“I’ll keep all my clothes on,” Quinn says, his voice thick. “But I’d really, really like to take off your pants.”

He’s offering to eat me out, with nothing else expected? I’d be suspicious, but Quinn did cook me this whole dinner tonight, and he genuinely seemed to enjoy it.

“Okay,” I say uncertainly. “I’m a little, um...”

“Sore?”

How can Quinn be so casual about that? All I have to do is think of Jace’s bulge fitting into me, filling me up, and I blush all over.

“Yeah, sore,” I say meekly.

“Don’t be ashamed.” He rests his face on my belly, nuzzling it with his nose. “I heard you even took Jace’s knot. I’m proud of you.”

For a split second, I wonder if Quinn has one, too.

“Now these need to go,” he says, rubbing the band of my sweatpants. I’m certain now, as certain as I can be, that nothing will happen that I don’t want to happen. Quinn is safe. The only one I need to be afraid of is myself.

I grab my sweatpants and my underwear and pull them down at the same time, so he can’t see the granny panties I wore underneath.

“Can you sit on the edge of the couch?” Quinn asks, getting up to deposit my clothes neatly on the coffee table.

Curious, I follow his instructions, and he tugs me forward on the cushions until I’m splayed out in front of him. Then he kneels in front of me, between my open legs, and his eyes close as he simply inhales.

“Oh, damn,” he says, shaking his head.

His gaze looks less relaxed and much more intent when he stares down between my legs. He buries his face in my pussy all at once, like a dog that hasn’t been fed. I can’t help the abrupt moan that spills out of me as his tongue dances around my clit, rubbing it every which way, alternating fast strokes and languid ones as if he knows exactly what to do with me. He carefully avoids my slit, as if he knows it’s tender.

Instead, he pulls me even farther forward. “Lie back for me,” he says, his mouth shiny and wet, and I obey. Now I’m fully revealed to him, and he lets out a huff of pleasure. He licks his index finger thoroughly, then sweeps it down, past my pussy to the hole underneath it. “Will you let me in there?”

I’ve only done anal play once before, with a real freak of a guy I went out with a few times. He liked all kinds of unusual things, when I was much more sheltered and vanilla. But I remember that after I got used to it, it felt great.

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