Page 27 of As The Shifter World Turns

“That,” he gulped. “That was the idea.”

I plunged into his channel, impaling him with my dick while his thick cock bounced. His eyes burned with a fierce lust, and then he squeezed around me, which had me gritting my teeth and saying to myself, “Don’t come. Not yet. Too soon.”

“Faster,” he urged.

That was the last intelligible word he uttered. He wanted it hard and fast, and I gave it to him, accompanied by moans and grunts, wails and cries. He lifted his hips to welcome me inside him as he matched my rhythm.

His low, sultry mewls brought on a savage lust that threatened to have me come before I was ready, before I’d given him what he’d begged me for.

“Your ass,” I bellowed as I filled him, “is perfection. Better than I imagined. More than I expected.”More than I ever wanted.This wolf shifter had me babbling as tears pricked my eyes.

Archer’s heavy breathing had my eyes locking on his as his hand crept to his dick. A droplet of pre-cum glistened on the tip, and he captured it while hisgaze never left my face. Instead of offering it to me, he traced his finger over his lips.

Mine!My nostrils flared. I wanted him, every part of him, and I grunted as I penetrated his tight channel. Archer wrapped his fingers around his length and pumped as I thrust into him. Each mesmerizing tug of his cock brought me closer to climax, making it harder to breathe. I gasped and gulped in mouthfuls of oxygen as Archer’s eyelids slid shut, and he whimpered. He tossed his head from side to side while I blinked sweat from my own eyes.

He pumped his cock in time to me shoving my dick into him. Gritting my teeth, I arched my back as Archer squeezed around me. His shaft reared up and his body jerked. Cum spurted from his cock, splattering us both, while I yelled his name and surrendered to the orgasm hurtling toward me.

My head fell back, his name on my lips as I filled him first with my cum and then with my knot, our bodies connected, the intimacy somehow deeper than anything else we’d done. I wanted to stay just like this.

I collapsed on top of him both sated and spent, rolling us over so that he would no longer need to bear my weight. “Whoa” was all I managed to say.

“Whoa indeed,” he said back.

I closed my eyes to catch my breath, the feel of his body on mine, the heat of his skin, his scent having me more content and comfortable than I remembered being in a long time—if ever. I was just going to relax and enjoy this moment, getting up when my knot released to help clean him up—for real this time—and get him something to eat. At least that was the plan.

But when I opened them again, the sun was already rising and he was gone, the only proof that it hadn’t been a dream the towel I’d used to dry him off and his scent still clinging to my skin.

“Fuck.” I’d wanted him to stay. No, I wanted so much more from him than that. But to stay… that would’ve been enough. At least for now.

But I never offered, instead falling asleep.

I called him, wanting to apologize and I didn’t even know—thank him for the good time or something equally awkward.

But instead of getting to tell him anything, his phone was shut down and an automated message said, “The person at this number is not taking calls at this time.” I didn’t listen to the rest. I didn’t need to. The message was loud and clear.

Archer never turned his phone off. He was glued to that thing for work even though he did make an effort not to be when we were together. But off? That wasn’t a thing he did.

If he had it off, there was only one possible reason: He regretted last night and didn’t want to talk to me.

“Fuck.”

11

THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE

Archer

Like the coward I was, I snuck out of Micah’s apartment in the early hours of the morning. Dried sweat coated my skin, and the aroma of sex oozed from my pores. As much as I wanted to keep the unicorn’s scent on me, I couldn’t crawl into clean sheets covered in the aftermath of a lengthy sex session.

And last night was a marathon not a sprint. One I’d been not training for—but had been aiming for—since I’d met Micah that first morning.Training. Aiming. I’m a poet and I don’t know it.The silly childhood ditty did little to lighten my mood.

Reluctantly, I climbed under the steaming spray—best time to shower in Sunshine Manor was the middle of the night with an unlimited supply of hot water—and scrubbed off the alpha. Each wipe of the washcloth, every rub and swish of the wet fabric over my skin, dripping with water, brought back memories from the previous night.

His fingers running over me, in and out of the shower, stroking and probing and making my head spin. His mouth on my skin sucking, our tongues entwined, flicking and dueling, not caring who won the battle. And Micah’s voice, with its husky undertones, had been enough to make me cum.

And I’d run away from his warm embrace, and the whispered words which had my wolf mumbling,Safe!

Too late now. I couldn’t stumble back pretending I’d just popped out for a beer. Tears mingled with the pounding water and I leaned against the tiles and sobbed.

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