Page 9 of A Breath of Fresh Air

“Oh babe,” he says, hand on my ass as he continues to grind against me. “Oh babe that’s fuckin’ hot. Holy shit. You smell so fucking good.”

“Sorry, I?—”

“Don’t apologise.Jesus,don’t apologise for that.” He lifts me higher, kissing down my neck to my cleavage. “You have to let me have a taste. Please.” I think he’s meaning my breasts, my mouth opening, when he adds, “I want to taste that sweet pussy.”

Oh my god.I think back to the wedding where we met, the memory of Van’s mother whispering in my ear.Bronte was right.“Yeah,” I manage to say, before he’s kissing me again,walking through the room with me in his arms. I fall back on the bed and he kisses down my body, peeling my top up and off, freeing my breasts, his tongue curling over one and —

“Woah,” I say, more out of shock, and he freezes mid-lick, looking at me wide-eyed, his tongue — much longer than I was expecting — still pressed to a nipple. Light from the city streams in through the window, hitting his face and making his pupils glow.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.No, sorry. Please don’t. It’s just… it’s been a long time and I’ve never been with a non-human before.”

The wide smile he gives me is relaxed; a toothy, wolfy grin that eases my nerves. “You sure about that? Because last time I looked, your daughter had pointed ears and fae heritage.”

I flop backwards, covering my eyes. “Oh mygod,” I groan, because it’s true, he has a point. “Youknowwhat I mean. Or maybe you don’t.”

“I know. I’m just teasing ya, but I’m sorry, it’s probably a bit more of a sensitive issue than that, huh?”

“It’s fine. I just didn’t know. He looked human. I still don’t know a thing about him. Sometimes I wonder what he must have really looked like without the glamour.”

Brett rubs my leg, and I shake my head, propping myself back up on my elbows to look at him.

My tits are out, brown nipples pebbling in the cool air, and I’m here talking about the one night stand I had twenty eight years ago. “I’m really fucking this up, aren’t I?” I ask with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Nah babe,” he says. The warmth of his hands is reassuring as they slide up my waist and over the front of my jeans. He unfastens the button and fly easily, and I lift myself so that he can tug my jeans off. Without the high-waisted pants, all my old stretch marks are on display, as well as the silver and brown lineof the c-section scar that cuts across just underneath my lower belly. Brett’s eyes focus on it, a small frown creasing his brows.

“She got stuck, and had to come out the sunroof instead,” I say. It’s the same line I always use, a joke to cover over one of the scariest moments of my life and the permanent mark I have of that time.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to the scar in the most gentle of kisses. I swallow back the lump in my throat, blinking quickly.

His thumbs trace the edge of my lace underwear, before snagging the fabric, pulling it slowly down my legs and off, his hands gliding back up. “You’re beautiful,” he says, those bright eyes staring directly at my cunt.

I have no words when he puts his mouth on me. None are needed; he puts his lips and tongue and teeth to good use, and when he presses a finger inside me I buck into his hand, unable to help myself. He growls appreciatively, pulling his finger out to suck it clean, before he rises, surprising me with a kiss. I moan into his mouth, tasting myself on his lips and his tongue, my hands scrabbling to free his cock, but he’s already pulling away again, kissing down my body once more and settling back to work on my cunt.

“Oh,” I moan, hand in his hair as he works athirdthick finger in, and I realise what he’s doing, the need to come growing with every second. My thighs are shaking as I score my nails through his thick hair, the wet glide of his fingers making me want more. He’s stretching me, readying me for that thick cock of his and that even bigger knot, and I haven’t even seen it yet but just the thought — combined with the constant flick of his tongue — has me reaching that peak.

I’d be embarrassed by the noise out of my own mouth, but it feels too fucking good to care. He doesn’t stop either, not until he’s worked me through the wave of my orgasm and down theother side, licking me in long strokes, then licking his finger clean.Wolf men love eating pussy.

I love his good-natured smile. There’s not a bad bone in this man’s body, and I’ve never been so at ease with a bed partner before. I watch him strip, revealing his broad chest and wide shoulders, the slight softness of his belly that I love so much, his huge, muscular thighs, and of course that glorious cock.

“So this is what all the fuss is about,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed as he stands between my legs, my fingers tracing a thick vein down the length of his shaft, until I reach his knot. I can’t wrap my hand around all of it — not even close — but I squeeze him tight just to hear him groan. Watching him tip his head back with pleasure is the most beautiful sight, and the bead of precum that pools at his slit, overflowing as I gently ease back his foreskin, gets the best of my curiosity. I’ve never been one to really enjoy the taste of men before but as I lathe my tongue over the smooth head of his cock I find that I do now, or at least I enjoy the taste of him. His taste, his smell, his warmth, his large hands and his voice, and those big balls of his that I cup and squeeze as I suck him deep.

That knot.

“Faaaark,” he growls, making me giggle as he gently pulls out of my mouth. “Fuck, babe. You’re making it hard for me, you know that?”

“Oh, it’sveryhard.”

“I mean choices.” He strokes his cock before pressing it back towards my lips, and I gladly open my mouth, swirling my tongue over him once more. “It’s fucking tempting to come in your mouth,” he says before pulling away once more. “I’ve got condoms.”

“Can you knot me, with one of those on?”

“I can. It’s not… it’s not quite the same, just being honest here. But I can, and I’m happy to use one. Any wolf that tells you he can’t is a dick.”

“I can’t get pregnant.” I still get my periods intermittently, but I’m fifty and in the middle of perimenopause. I am absolutely certain I can’t get pregnant naturally at this point. “And they did all their swabs at my last smear, and it was all clear, and there’s been no one since then.”

“Yeah. I went and got checked two weeks ago. Full bill of health.”

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