Page 56 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

I give in to a wild, primal urge andbiteinto his shoulder. The feeling of resistance beneath my teeth makes something click and unfurl in my brain and I know that I’m in for it. My wolf’s instincts drove me to do it, knowing that it was both a challenge and claim. He growls and rips his fingers out of me, but before I can complain at my emptiness the whole world whirls. By some lucky reflex I manage to brace my hands on the railing as I’m turned around and bent over by his viciously controlled manhandling.

And before I can say a thing, Thorn’s body shadows over mine and I feel the tip of him line up just where I’ve been craving him. An urgency overwhelms me to make sure we follow through, my body keenly remembering just how narrowly I’d missed the chance for this before. I jut my hips back and try to force our union, but he just locks one hand with what feels like almost bruising force around my hip and forces me still. And as if that wasn’t enough to have me completely gone, I then feel him lean in behind me, our bodies going flush.

“Mine,” he seethes out, his deep voice resonating through me.

Then, he plunges in.

I practically scream out in bliss and grip onto the railing so tight I know I might give myself splinters. He holds that for just a moment before moving into a firm rutting pace that leavesme swaying in place, trying with all my might to stay upright. I dully notice my nearly full bottle of beer and the baby monitor shifting just a little bit during his more fierce thrusts, and I reach out to try and grab the monitor thanks to some shred of practicality cutting through the lustful fog enough to know it’d be a bad idea if that fell.

But that just ruins my delicate balance and I lose my steadiness—

Only to have him immediately wrap his arms around me, and I just surrender into his hold and let myself go limp. It’s such a release, to give into him entirely, to trust him in this profound and primal way.

He grunts every few gyrations now, and I love hearing his voice betray just how good he feels fucking me. I lose all trace of time; it all feels so short yet like we’ve been joined for an eternity. But there is a build of pleasure in me that robs me of all of my faculties, and even though I have a million things I’d love to cry out to him, all I can do is moan and pant to try and fill my burning lungs.

Thorn’s pace doesn’t slow. It just grows more powerful as each drive of his body practically bullies me off of my feet. If he wasn’t holding me, I probably would have fallen by now. And just as I start to feel myself go senseless, I feel himthrobinside of me, and that sets off a thousand different buttons I didn’t know I have.

I try to beg him to release himself inside of me, but all that comes out of me is a wild, needy call. But just as before, he seems to understand. Thorn just growls and bites down into my own shoulder, and as I shout through the twin pain and pleasure, I feel him burst and drain inside of me. The pair of us dim into a long quiet then, just bracing through the wake of the powderkeg we’d set off. His hands softly rove my body and he kisses my neck and shoulders in a dreamy way. As these silent affections go on, I try to get my bearings as best I can. Once I’m able to tune back in to the world around me, I notice that the crickets are still loudly singing on.

Right, we’re outside… Well, I hope Mother Nature enjoyed the show.

But then I feel him twitch again inside of me, and I know we’ve got an encore on the way.

Chapter 17 - Thorn

Consciousness finds me rather unexpectedly. But even more surprising than waking up ishowI wake up. I know even from the faint light showing through the nighttime window that it’smyroom. But in this house, I’d never shared my bed, not even with my son—I was too terrified of the risk of hurting him. However, I hear soft dozing breaths beside me, and feel Gwen’s nude body nestled up against me.

So, it wasn’t some fever dream. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of myself during everything. I was far too aware in certain respects. The memories of her are still so new that they burn molten hot in my mind: all of the cries she made, the way she arched and curled in ecstasy, the kaleidoscope of gorgeous lewd expressions through every high and low of the experience…

I feel my loins twitch in drowsy interest, but I’ve more than drained my reserves of energy and all else besides. As tempting as the prospect is to coax into yet another round, it was for the best that I didn't let myself get off the rails again. The self-control is definitely made a lot easier by the fact that we’dengagedwith each other for what must have been hours before euphoria and exhaustion took us both down for the count.

I sit upright, though I make sure that the blanket stays comfortably nestled on top of her so her rest isn’t disturbed by some unwelcome chill.

My hands smear across my face in an effort to sober myself into properly waking up.

It really did happen. I thought I could remain disciplined and certain in my resolve to not give in to these instincts and make things evenmorecomplicated. But it felt each passing day wore away at my resistance, and tonight I finally caved.

I suppose all those months of celibacy had done something to me, if myoutburstis any indication.

I glance towards the little red light from the baby monitor sitting on my nightstand. We’d worked our way indoors over the course of our trysts and both had enough parental sense to keep it with us throughout. Well, namely I’d carried her in and had her on the couch, in the kitchen and eventually upstairs in my bed.

The thought of having sex in the same house as my baby felt odd. It was an entirely new experience for me, I supposed. I’d more or less given up on the prospect. A little worry needles in my mind that maybe he’d been disturbed in the middle of the night by our racket, or maybe I’d gotten so carried away that I hadn’t noticed. I get out of bed with a slow, easy stealth; I’ve spent my whole life being very elusive despite my size, so it’s easy enough to discreetly get myself up and clothed enough to go check on my son without making much noise.

Rowan’s entirely at ease in his crib when I get to his nursery, dreaming away. I sigh in relief and go to try and get things, myself included, cleaned up. It’s a bit of a crime scene to work through, but a far more enjoyable one than the sort I normally deal with. But a bit of tidying gets things back in order and provides me something to focus on while my mind tries to start analyzing the check my libido signed.

As amazing as she is and how satisfied my primal instincts feel, guilt burns an ugly hole through my gut. What if she wakes up and regrets everything? Then I’d have gotten greedy and ruined everything for a night of blind passion. The fact that I’d heedlessly gone and done it without any protection and hadn’t had the lucidity to ask her if she was on any sort of birth control only makes it feel like an even more worrisome oversight. Despite all my caution and efforts to live mindfully,did I just have some sort of critical weakness that would leave me forever at risk of sowing my wild oats and hurting the poor women saddled with my child?

I had promised to do better by Rowan and by others. I don’t want to hurt anyone who I don't have to anymore. Yet here I am. There’s a deep grief that runs through me all the way back to my youth, and my sins against her tower closer within my mind despite my efforts to fend off the worst of the memories.

By the time I make it back up to my room, I’m genuinelyanxious. If she’s woken up already, it would mean we’dhaveto talk. We’d gone too far to be able to ignore it any longer.

I lose track of myself for… I don’t know how long. I just know that I've stood in front of my closed bedroom door for ages trapped on the edge of possibility and stuck on the edge of memories I’ve desperately tried to keep buried. Eventually, I manage to fight through the deafening roar of my thoughts and sneak the door open.

She’s still asleep, but my worries keep gnawing at me. I consider going and waking her up, or even attending to her and taking her to her bedroom so that she can wake up in her own space and not be potentially distressed waking up in my bed.

But then my phone buzzes. Pure reflex takes over and I’m at it in a millisecond before it can cause enough of a racket to wake her. The contact name lurches me out of my disorientation into focus through years of conditioning:Rochester. He’s one of my primary liaisons for the Council and is often the person who contacts me with emergencies and significant updates. I hurry from the bedroom, shut the door after me, and hurry down the hall to answer the call.

“Go ahead,” I immediately hail.

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