Page 77 of Wolfgang

Eric smiled up at Wolfe, a sharp spike of happiness piercing through the bond. “Your Eric.”

Wolfe smiled back, uncaring how foolish he might look. “All mine.”

“And then I could do research down the line.”

“If you like.”

Eric could never work another day in his extremely extended life, and Wolfe would have no qualms. His mate didn’t have to prove his right to existence. Not to him.

Eric cast him one last sidelong glance. “You really don’t care if I never do anything at all?”

“I want you content,” Wolfe said firmly. “I want you near me. That’s enough.”

“I really do love you.”

“I know.”

“Even though you’re kind of an asshole.”

“Read your book, my darling.”

“Your beloved,” Eric insisted, opening to his most recent page.

“Yes. My beloved.”

twenty-three

Epilogue

Eric

Eric’sfingersclawedintothe leather cushions, his breath punching out of him with each harsh thrust of Wolfe’s hips.

“How does it feel, darling?”

Eric could only moan in response. It felt too fucking good. True, his belly was digging into the arm of the couch, all the blood rushing to his head, but who could focus on the vague discomfort when arousal had his cock tip leaking like a fountain, Wolfe’s satisfied grunts ringing in his ear?

When he didn’t answer, Wolfe flipped him over bodily, Eric’s back now arching over the couch arm. He gasped as Wolfe pulled his hips up with one smooth jerk.

He tried to take advantage of the brief reprieve to form a coherent sentence. “I was supposed to be reading for my book club.”

“And you were.” Wolfe leered down at him. It was unfair how sexy he looked, his hair mussed and his sharp cheekbones flush with color. “And then I interrupted. That’s the deal. You get your hideous man cave; I get to fuck you senseless in it.”

Senseless was right. Eric tried to organize his mushed-up brain waves to keep complaining, partly out of habit and partly because he knew it amused Wolfe to no end. “How—how is it my hideous space when you set yourself up a whole workstation in the corner? You’re in here just as much as I am.”

“I like to be close,” Wolfe answered easily, his hands digging into Eric’s thighs, lifting his legs practically over his head.

“Codependent,” Eric accused, trying to reach for his dick and pouting when Wolfe batted his hand away.

“As if you aren’t the neediest little cock slut in all the land,” Wolfe countered, lining up that beautiful cock and pushing into him.

“Oh fuck.” Eric keened at the renewed stretch, trying not to come at that feeling of fullness combined with Wolfe’s filthy words.

He said stuff like that sometimes, and it had no right to be as hot as it was. It didn’t feel like before, when people in town had thought Eric was an unrepentant sleaze (and wasn’t it amazing what a wedding band did to change people’s minds about that?). There was no malice or judgment in Wolfe’s dirty little accolades. Only appreciation. HelikedEric needy. He adored him desperate.

And it was all truth. Because Ericwasa fucking cock slut for Wolfe, no doubt about it. Their bond may have been stable now—it didn’t physically or mentally wreck Eric to be apart from him—but he somehow always wanted to be close anyway. He wasn’t content unless they’d had some sort of sexual contact at least once a day. And since leaving the hospital—his life just up to the brim with unending stretches of free time—it was often much more than that.

Wolfe renewed his merciless rhythm, and Eric let his head fall back on the seat cushions, giving into the mindless, brain-numbing pleasure of it all. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

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