Page 122 of The Good Boys Club

“Keep walking,” he would say, his voice still barely restraining his inner wolf. “Faster.”

“Easy for you to do, but I’m rock-hard now. Knots popping and all.” Subtly, I rocked the heel of my hand against the crown of my cock, and bit down on my bottom lip to hide my groan.

“We’ll deal with your knots afterwards,” he said.

Afterwards.I was—impossibly—harder.

“Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” I asked.

“I need everyone to know who you belong to,” was his gravelled reply. So yes, then.

“Hellooo?” I called out into the house as soon as Cian opened the front door and pushed me over the threshold. There was blissfully no answer.

“Bedroom now. Clothes off,” he ordered.

I practically ran there. By the time Cian sauntered in, I was naked. I’d also fetched something from one of my travel bags under the bed. I hid it behind my back and sat on the end of the mattress.

He walked up to me and placed a hand under my chin, tilting my face towards him. “I’m going to mark you now, like real werewolves do. Like my inner wolf is telling me to. I need your consent.”

“I’m already naked aren’t I?” Wasn’t that consent enough for him?

“Yes or no.” Apparently not.

“Yes.”

“Say the whole thing,” he demanded.

“Yes, mark me like a real wolf’s mate,” I said. Cian’s pupils dilated so much I could no longer see any blue. I presented the item I’d hidden behind my back—a leather dog collar and chain. “Leash me, please. Tell me I’m a good boy, and piss on me.”

A growl left his throat. He snatched the collar from my hand and smashed his mouth against mine.

“You brought this thing all the way from Remy even though you knew it was you and me only for two months?” His voice was still raspy, still barely containing the animal inside him. He buckled the collar around my neck.

“What can I say? I’m an optimist,” I replied.

At that, his stoic expression faltered, and a smile ticked the corner of his mouth. He reined in it and slipped his wrist through the leather loop, twisting the chain twice around his fist.

He didn’t raise a questioning judgemental brow. Didn’t tell me I was weird or perverted for wanting to wear a dog collar. And I didn’t have to spend weeks softening him up to the idea in the messaging channels of dating apps. He just went with it.

Because he was fucking incredible.

“In the shower now. On your knees.”

I slid from the bed to the floor and crawled to the bathroom because I was not doing things by halves, not now I had someone so ready to play along. Cian walked behind me, still holding the lead. My tail thumped against his leg.

The bathroom tiles bit into my kneecaps, but I was offered a few seconds of respite as I moved over the plush bath mat on my way to the shower. Inside the cubicle, I knelt, sitting on my heels, knees splayed. My tail poked out between my legs. My knots were full, cock hard, brushing against my stomach and leaving a sticky wet trail of precum.

Cian stepped into the cubicle with me, stopping between my parted thighs, my eyes about level with his belly button. His boots were still on, he was still fully clothed, the metal chain wrapped around his wrist. With his other hand, he stroked my head between my ears and then under my chin. My tail began tapping against my ankle.

“You’re a good boy, Mash.” He pulled on the lead, causing me to straighten my spine, then in that same wolf-gravelled voice of his, he said, “You’re my very best boy. This won’t take long.”

And I could only watch as he removed his fingers from my face and one-handedly unbuckled his belt. In slow motion, or at least it felt that way, he pulled down his fly, took his dick in hand, eased his foreskin back, and started pissing.

The stream hit me at the base of my throat, my collarbone, my pulse point, where my blood was closest to the surface. The wet heat gushed down my naked torso in fat rivulets. It worked its way into the fur covering my pelvis, sluicing over my knots and balls, rushing down my thighs, over my asshole.

My tail swished back and forth, flicking Ci’s piss over my feet, shins, knees. The runoff pooled along the rubber sole of his boots. Why the fuck was that, of all the things, so hot? I needed to touch my cock, wrap my fingers around it and relieve some of this desperation, but I knew it would be game over the second I got an ounce of friction.

The scent of Cian on me hit my nose. Not piss, but the scent of him, of us, of this make-believe bond we had, and I couldn’tcontain my groan. His nostrils flared. The smell would be even more intoxicating to his senses.

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