Page 14 of Ruthlessly Mated
“Do you write notes?”
She scrabbles through her stuff. She has a lot of stuff. Some of it is paper and pen; she takes that pen and she writes a single word on it: Hi.
I hesitate for a brief moment, then take the pen from her and write a word back.
Hi.
She smiles so broadly I feel as though I have done something truly wonderful for her.
“I bet that was hard for you,” she says. “It’s okay. You don’t have to write me an essay. Hi is enough for now.”
I give her the pen back. I don’t usually write things down either, unless it’s an absolute emergency. Talking is not only overrated, it is painful for me. Words stick in my throat, feel like massive boulders pushing against the most sensitive parts of my innards. Talking feels like I am a goose being stuffed for pate.
We stay in the laundry room as it gets warmer, the heat of the dryer taking the chill off the air. I take her by the hand and lead her back into the bathroom. There, I run the bath and gesture to it.
“You want me to bathe?”
I nod.
“You’re right, being licked clean probably isn’t sanitary when fish guts are involved,” she says. “Though I’m glad I’m a wolf. Imagine if I was just a person. Imagine if you all were. We’d all be so disgusted.”
I sit by the bath as she gets in and starts to wash herself off. She is very pretty naked, very curvy and very cute. I let my eyesrun over her generous breasts, and an ass already marked with Conroy’s belt. There’s no way she and he are going to avoid conflict.
Tailor is more refined, more patient. He can seem more laid back, but in truth he is just more methodical. It will take a long time for him to react, but when he does it will be truly devastating.
She looks at me, and I see fear in her eyes. It’s a quiet fear. The kind that hides like a wounded predator, knowing that to have a weakness discovered would be akin to death. She doesn’t want anybody to know how scared she is, and how much hurt she carries, but I see it all. She cannot hide it from me.
I lower my head to hers, and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. I hear her let out a little whimper, and the water sloshes slightly as her hips make an unmistakable grinding motion.
She’s been stimulated a lot, but she’s looking for a sexual comfort that Conroy isn’t really capable of giving. He knows how to dominate, but he hasn’t yet learned how to soothe.
I slide my hand into the bath, letting my fingers curl around her inner thigh. She meets my gaze again, then lowers it again, her cheeks turning even pinker. Her thighs spread a little, inviting me deeper.
My other hand runs through her hair and clenches deep in the roots, tilting her head back enough to make her eyes rise naturally to mine. The jolt of carnal excitement that runs through me as she looks at me is so perfectly primal. A soft, low growl escapes me, the closest utterance to words I’ve made in years.
The sound has an immediate effect on her. I feel her tremble in my grasp, and then I feel her legs part even more. I have yet to move my hand. I am making her be patient, forcing her to anticipate my touch. A slight smile teases the corners of my lips, letting her know I am well aware of what I am doing.
People think not being able to speak impedes communication, but in times and places like this, everything can be translated through touch and expression. I keep looking down into her eyes as I trail my hand lightly up her thigh toward the nexus of her desire. Her pussy lips are swollen and puffy from Conroy’s rough ravaging, but that just makes them more sensitive, and this gentle handling is making her yearn all over again.
The sound she makes when my fingers finally slide up the length of her soft, furred sex is also devoid of words, but tells me everything I need to know.
I tease her, toy with her. I let her see my enjoyment of this careful exploration, and I let her feel that I am in no rush to claim her. Conroy may consider himself the sole alpha, but there are more ways to be in control than just roughly rutting a female. He is a creature of force, and though she clearly responds to it on some level, it’s not all she wants.
I avoid the ravaged entrance of her body, a place already quite brutally stretched by Conroy’s knot, and instead I focus my attention on her hard, hungry little clit, circling slowly at first, inviting her hips to dance for me in the soapy water.
Her face gets pinker, her breath comes shorter. She reaches for my wrist and holds me in place, silently begging me for more and more touch. She could speak if she wanted to, but she has joined me in the quiet and I feel a deep connection being forged, ormaybe simply acknowledged in this moment. She belongs with me. To me. And I belong to her.
I press my fingers more firmly against her clit and circle faster. She starts to pant and beg with her eyes. Her gaze is locked on me, completely connected. I look back, not wanting to bring her to climax too quickly and have this moment end.
“Noooo…” She mewls the word as I move my fingers away for a moment, giving her a break, stroking down her swollen pussy lips, caressing her more gently and more widely.
Her little whine earns her a slight tightening of my grip. I lift an eyebrow just a little. It is a subtle expression change, but it settles her down, just as I intend it to. I’ll teach her patience through slow degrees. I’ll subdue her without being aggressively forceful. She’ll feel my strength in the small, subtle things, and I already know she will respond.
“Please?” She whispers the word, almost as if she is afraid to give voice to it, as if speaking in my presence might be breaking some taboo.
I show her that it is not by sliding my fingers back to her greedy clit and returning to the strumming motion she enjoys so much.
The pattern repeats several times. I bring her close to climax, then let her settle down, watch her writhe and wriggle and even complain in my grasp, always waiting until I decide she is due for more pleasure.
