Page 123 of The Good Boys Club

Who would ever have thought this would be as hot as it was? I was panting, out of breath, chest heaving, and on the edge of exploding without touch. Again.

Cian finished, shook his dick, and pushed it back inside his underpants. He didn’t bother to do his belt or fly up. He stared down at me—naked, hard, and soaking wet. My tail still flicked between my knees, the chain still taut between my neck and his hand. He lowered his gaze until his eyes landed on my cock. I allowed myself one moment of indulgence and cupped my knots. My cry echoed off the tiles.

“You liked that more than I expected you to,” he said.

“Same, though,” I replied.

“You like being told what to do.” It wasn’t a question.

I answered anyway, my voice nothing more than a rasp. “Yes.”

I would be an alpha soon. People would follow my commands. Perhaps that was why I enjoyed being bossed around so much. Because for that brief moment in time, I had no responsibilities, no future obligations gnawing away at my insides. I wasn’t in charge, and I didn’t have to think.

Following other people’s orders was hot as fuck.

Cian rubbed his fingertips over my head again, stroking my hair between my ears. “Now be a good boy and touch yourself.”

“Really?”

“I told you we’d deal with your knots afterwards. Fuck your hand and let me watch.”

I didn’t wait for further confirmation. I needed this friction more than I needed air right now. I moved my fist from my knots to my cock. The relief was instantaneous. My eyes rolled upwards into my skull. My head fell back against the tiles, tugging on the chain between Cian and me.

“Ci, I won’t last long.” I dragged my gaze to his.

His eyes were shadowed by the overhead light, his knuckles white against the metal leash, and his breaths echoed throughout the shower cubicle. His lips parted as I began stroking myself, but he still said nothing.

This, right now, was the single hottest moment of my life.

“You’re doing so good,” Ci said, his voice still just a resonant growl. “You put on such a beautiful show for me.”

I stopped my movements long enough to swipe my hand through the slickness around my neck, and then returned to my cock. Using Ci’s piss as lube, I slipped my fist up and down. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upwards because I knew the moment I looked at him, saw the predatory way he was watching me, it’d all be over.

I slowed my rhythm. Cian kept one hand tight on the chain, and the other snaked round into the back of my hair. A second later I felt his breath on my face, and after that, his lips on mine. Agonisingly soft, wet, tender kisses. His tongue brushed the seam of my lips, asking for an invitation into my mouth. I opened to him without hesitation.

I was no longer in control of my movements. My pace sped up, the intensity building to near breaking point. So close to cresting that hill.

“Ci, please,” I begged. He wouldn’t deny me—I knew that much—but I really fucking loved begging. “Please, can I come?”

I sensed him crouch in front of me, and I forced my eyes open. He looked more desperate than I felt. His brow furrowed, his lips swollen from our kiss or from biting them, his face flushed to the tips of his human ears.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Come for me. Let me see you fall to pieces.”

Before he had finished his sentence, I broke. My orgasm erupted over my fist, hit my chest in stripes. I didn’t take my eyes off him.

Cian cradled my jaw in his hand. “Such a good boy,” he whispered, the gravelled, desperate edge in his voice gone. Or buried. He’d obviously sated his inner wolf. Now there was only tenderness present in his features.

I had the absurd and horrifying urge to tell him I loved him. I mean, I’d told him I loved him a thousand times before, but this felt . . . different, like . . . real love, true love. More than the love of two best friends.

Sam’s words echoed through my mind.“You’ve got nothing to lose by asking him to stay. He can only say no.”

I wasn’t ready to hear that “no” again, though.

“How long do you have to leave the piss on before you can shower?” he said, saving me from my thoughts. “Because I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a mess right now.”

I snort laughed. “I think—though I’ve never actually done this before—but I think you can shower straight away and the scent will linger. Like it’s a chemical reaction . . .” As a scientist, I should have a better understanding. “When the piss hits your skin, it changes the metabolic structure of your biomes or some shit.” I shrugged, gave up. I was a fucking tree doctor. How should I know the technical ins and outs of werewolf golden showers?

“Can you stand up?” He held out his hands, the loop of the lead still wrapped around his wrist, and gingerly I pulled myself up.

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