Page 67 of Strelitzias in Spring

“Th-thank you.” I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I wipe my face, praying that Wolf doesn’t notice I’m crying again. “That was considerate.”

He shrugs again, not voicing a response.

“What about the rest of this art?” I wave my hands, gesturing to the walls.

“Some are pieces I’ve done; others are commissions from my artists or ones from other shops whose work I admire.” I nod, taking a closer look at each of the prints on display.

Turning back to the rendering of my tattoo, I smile. “They’re all beautiful, but I like this one best.”

“Me too.” His voice comes from behind, closer than it was a minute ago, and I stand, straightening to my full height. Not a second passes before his front is pressed against my back, and his arms are around my waist, adhering to my body. Keeping one hand wrapped around my abdomen, the other dances up, over the valley between my breasts, over the ridges of my collar bone, and to the peak of my jaw. Applying gentle pressure, Wolf turns my head and tilts it toward his lowering face.

I close my eyes, anticipating another kiss, but it never comes. Snapping them open, I see Wolf’s mouth inches from mine, like he’s giving me the air I need to breathe. “What—”

“I’m going to fuck you now, princess. And I’m not going to be gentle this time.”

My eyebrows lift to my hairline, and I sputter a laugh. “You were gentle last time?”

“As gentle as I could be.”

With my head at this angle, I’m able to see everything that transpires within his eyes: desire, skepticism, need, and I’m sure his emotions are mirrored in my own. Erasing the distance between us, I ease up on my toes and press my mouth to his, initiating a soft kiss. Easing his lips open, I lick into his mouth and let my tongue dance lazily with his. He seems inclined to let me lead and set the pace because he doesn’t fight for control or turn our kiss into a battle.

Pulling back, I tip my head up and smirk. “What was that about gentle?”

An eyebrow quirk is the only warning I receive before Wolf scoops me into his arms, bridal style, and strides to the bed, throwing me toward the center. Wolf grabs the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one fluid motion.

In clothes, Wolf’s body is impressive; the way his form fills out jeans is nearly sinful, and his shoulders stretch out a shirt indecently. But shirtless? His body is a master class in art and kinesiology, a reflection of the perfect human form if scars and body modifications were normative. I stare at him wordlessly as he strips off his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely bare. His cock is hard, so red, that it looks like it physically hurts to remain untouched. As though he’s reading my mind, he grips the base of his cock, squeezing before jerking his hand up and down, spreading the precum over himself.

Shaking myself out of my trance, I move my hands to the hem of my shirt and start to raise it over my ribs.

“Stop.” I halt my progress at his voice, leaving the shirt bunched at my waist. “Get on your hands and knees and come to the edge of the bed.”

“Are you planning on ordering me around all night?” I ask.

“Yes. Now get on your hands and knees, princess. Don’t make me ask a third time.”

“What’ll happen if you do?”

“Something you probably won’t like,” he supplies, quickening his speed as he continues to stroke himself.

“I’m tempted to find out,” I tease but rise on my knees before dropping to my hands and crawling over to the edge of the bed. Though I’m listening to Wolf’s commands and following instructions, I’m doing it because it’s whatIwant to do. I know that whatever Wolf is about to do to me will cause me optimal pleasure, and I’m determined to be selfish for once in my life.

Thoughts of my family, the failed dating experience, and every previous sexual encounter that didn’t include Wolf fade away until I’m left fully clothed, on my hands and knees, waiting to service the man I never thought I’d have.

29

Wolf

Serena’s ass sways as she crawls over to me, a temptress in denim on a sea of black sheets and blankets. I stopped her when she tried to undress because I knew the moment I saw her naked body, I’d be a fucking goner. She reaches the edge and sits back on her heels, folding her hands in her lap like a seasoned courtesan playing at demure. Except with her, it’s no act. A heady cocktail of inexperience and sensuality oozes from Serena’s pores; even just sitting there, fully covered, she looks like sin incarnate.

“Open your mouth,” I rasp, squeezing the tip of my dick to stave off the waves of lust crashing into me. One insolent eyebrow raises, but she continues to follow my instructions, opening her mouth wide, not moving any other part of her body.

Stepping forward, I place the tip of my dick on her tongue. Precum gathers at the head, and I watch, entranced, as the droplets blend with her saliva and settle on her tongue. I’m too big for her to take, and already my dick looks like a fucking monster against her mouth. She must not realize that there’s a logistical issue because the minx tries to widen her mouth before closing it around the head of my cock.

“Fuck,” I grunt, unable to keep the chill from my spine. “Princess, as much as I wish you could deepthroat me, you’ll split your mouth open, and my dick will have teeth marks if we try.” If I weren’t watching her closely, I’d miss the gleam in her eyes, like she’s picking up the gauntlet of a challenge she doesn’t want to lose. Pulling her head back, she releases me from her mouth, saliva trailing her release.

In a move I don’t anticipate, Serena grabs my dick and pulls me forward like a dog on a leash; I have no choice but to follow her silent command. Her delicate fingers circle my cock and tilt it forward until her mouth is mere centimeters away. With all the prior women I’ve been with, my size and girth have been much appreciated for the pleasure it can provide, but very rarely has anyone tried to give me head or even a hand job. After my first girlfriend in high school compared it to a fucking Yeti, I knew that anything resembling a blowjob was off the table for me.

Serena doesn’t seem intimidated by my size, or maybe it’s the scholar in her treating my cock like a hypothesis she needs to test. Leaning closer, Serena’s tongue peeks out, giving me a long, slow lick from the base to the tip before circling the head and lapping at the precum. She repeats the movement on the top of my shaft, tilting her head so that her tongue is able to taste the entire length.

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