Page 33 of Howling Mad
Michael guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed.I sit and then scoot backward as he follows, hovering over me.He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, drawing them slowly down my legs.When I’m completely naked beneath him, he pauses, taking in all of me.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, his voice reverent.
I reach for him, pulling him down to me.The feel of his weight pressing me into the mattress, skin against skin, pulls a moan from deep in my throat.His cock presses against my thigh, hot, and insistent.
His mouth finds mine again as his hand slides down my body, over the curve of my hip, to between my thighs.When he discovers how wet I am for him, he groans into the kiss.“So ready for me,” he whispers against my lips.
His fingers explore my slit with gentle precision, finding the spots that make me gasp and arch beneath him.When he slides one finger inside me and then two, my hips buck involuntarily.
“Michael…” I dig my nails into his shoulders.“Please.”
He moves his hand away from my clit so he can position himself between my thighs.The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, and our gazes lock.Something profound passes between us, the recognition going beyond physical desire and even the connection we’ve been building for weeks.
When he pushes inside me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size, I cry out, arching my back off the bed.He fills me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way.For a moment, neither of us moves, overwhelmed by the sensation of our bodies joined.
“You feel incredible,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.“Like you were made for me.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper.“Move,” I whisper.“Please.”
He begins to thrust, slowly at first and then with increasing urgency as we find our rhythm.Each movement sends waves of pleasure through me, building higher and higher.My wolf is so close to the surface now that my canines lengthen slightly, and my nails sharpen into claws against his back.
Rather than being alarmed, he moans with desire.His wolf responds, his eyes flashing gold in the moonlight.“Don’t hold back,” he says, his voice deeper and rougher.“I want all of you.”
The permission unleashes something primal in me.With a strength that surprises us both, I flip our positions, straddling him and taking control as my wolf demands.Michael’s hands grip my hips, guiding my movements as I ride him.
“You’re magnificent,” he says, looking up at me with awe.
I lean down to kiss him, nipping gently at his lower lip with my slightly extended fangs.He groans, thrusting up to meet me, as I’m rapidly spiraling toward release.
“Michael…” I gasp, my movements becoming erratic as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.“I’m close.”
“Yes.”He slides one hand between us to where we’re joined.His thumb finds my clit, circling with just the right pressure, and I shatter, crying out his name as ecstasy crashes through me.The intensity of it triggers his release, and he pulls me tightly against him, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes with a primal growl that vibrates through my very bones.
For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, trembling with aftershocks.My wolf subsides gradually, and my features return to fully human.I collapse onto his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat gradually slow.
I finally speak, and my voice is husky.“That was definitely not practice.”
Michael laughs, and he traces lazy patterns on my bare back.“Definitely not.”He tilts my chin up to look at him, his expression suddenly serious.“That was...I’ve never felt anything like that before.It was like our wolves recognized each other.”
I nod, understanding exactly what he means.“I know.It felt like...”
“Like coming home,” he finishes for me.
We lie tangled together, bathed in moonlight, with neither of us willing to break the spell.Outside, the night has cleared, stars twinkling above the city.A sense of rightness settles over me, bone-deep and certain.
“Stay,” I whisper against his chest.It’s not a question, but a soft demand.
“Wild wolves couldn’t drag me away,” he murmurs into my hair.
I smile, closing my eyes as a different kind of satisfaction washes over me.
Chapter 12
Michael
Iwaketounfamiliarsoftness and the scent of vanilla.For a moment, I lie perfectly still, savoring the warm weight pressed against my side, and the gentle rhythm of Finley’s breathing.Pale morning light filters through curtains I don’t recognize.My internal clock insists it’s barely past dawn, the hour I usually rise to check premarket reports.Instead, I find myself cataloging the details of Finley’s bedroom.
A bookshelf overflowing with paperbacks tilts perilously in one corner.Her clothes from last night create a trail from the door to the bed, marking our path like breadcrumbs.On her nightstand sits a half-empty mug beside a stack of romance novels with dog-eared pages.Everything about this space is warm, lived-in, imperfect, and the exact opposite of my meticulously organized apartment.
