Page 43 of Crying Wolfe
Then he surged forward, scalding her with a stretching, inescapable pain.
She hadn’t realized her teeth had sunk into the meat of his muscle until his raw noise tore through the air, containing every bit as much pain as she felt.
Unclenching her jaw, she released his trapezius, placing a conciliatory kiss on the indentations she’d left. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his ear, soothing a hand down his rippling back.
“Don’t fucking dare apologize,” he croaked. Holding himself as perfectly still as his quivering muscles seemed to allow. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.”
It felt extra blasphemous for him to curse just so while seated so deeply inside of her, but she secretly liked it. It felt like a wickedness, what they’d done today. One or two extra sins wouldn’t make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things.
Already the pain was beginning to abate, and Rosaline brought her awareness to where they were joined. A throbbing had intensified there, but she wasn’t certain if it was her flesh or his that pulsed so persistently.
Silent seconds ticked by, and the pressure inside of her morphed from a sting to an ache to nothing more than a sharp sort of stretch. Still he did nothing. Just held himself there, his trembling intensifying as he kept his face buried in her hair. “Tell me—tell me you’re all right.” The words seemed to have to work their way past the strained cords she could feel in his neck.
“I’m very well.” She smoothed her palms down his back once more, enjoying the way he purred like a giant cat. “It’s only that…well, is one of us supposed to be moving?”
“Can’t,” he groaned.
“Why not?”
“Too tight.”
“Oh.” She did her best to make herself less tight, stretching her intimate muscles. Relaxing them as best she could, which only seemed to make things worse for him. Patting his back gently, she turned her head to place a kiss to his stubbled jaw. “I’m sorry.”
“Apologize again and see what I—” His threat dissipated as her intimate muscles seemed to convulsively need to clamp and release the hardness inside of her. Dismayed, she watched his skin flush a shade she’d not yet seen.
“I can’t help it,” she said. “I’m—” She pressed her lips together, biting back the word. “I didn’t know it would hurt you, too.”
“Hurtme?” Another bitter sound of mirth escaped him. “Being still inside of you…it’s better than the most frenzied fuck. Better than the first time.”
That lit a gentle flame of pride inside of her. She didn’t like the thought of him—er—fucking anyone with frenzy or otherwise. But it was quite a miraculous balm to know she surpassed those experiences without even trying.
“Do you imagine it’ll be better or worse if you move?” she wondered.
“I imagine it’ll be over if I move,” was his grim reply.
Not wanting this connection to end, she tightened her hold as if her feeble strength could stop him from leaving her if he ever took it in his mind to do so. “Not yet,” she whispered, lifting her legs to lock around his, consequently pulling him deeper.
He found the strength to lift his head enough to stare down at her, concern etched into the grooves branching from his eyes. Smoothing her hair from her face, he slid an arm behind her neck, cradling her as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Don’t let go,” he said, more an appeal than a command. “I think you’re holding all the broken pieces of me together.”
That she could do.
Her sex continued to pulse and throb, contracting around him without her permission to do so.
Though he didn’t move, Eli worshiped her with his mouth. Leaving no part of her face unkissed before moving to her throat. He only stopped to indulge in a quiet groan or a spine-wrenching tremble. She found that if she tilted her hips this way, or depressed them into the bed, his reactions became stronger.
“Rosaline,” he groaned. “If you don’t stop I—I’ll—” His words died on a strangled sound as his entire frame seized with a rippling shudder. Then another. Rough tremors cording every muscle and etching his every feature in stark relief. Warmth flooded her womb, and as he jerked and shivered, she could tell he’d released his seed inside of her.
In time, it seemed to diminish its hold over him, and he carefully curled out of her before collapsing on his side with a bone-weary groan.
They stared at each other for a moment, each clearly loath to address the enormity of what had just happened between them.
Two veritable strangers. How was it possible they had shared something so incredibly profound?
Her body broke the moment for her, releasing what he’d left inside her in a warm rush. Gasping, she sat up, clenching her drenched thighs ineffectually.
“Oh right. Shit.” He leapt from the bed and padded to the ewer and bowl in the corner, wetting two cloths. He covered his sex with one of them before he turned back. “Lie back, honey, and I’ll wash you.”
Shaking her head, Rosaline couldn’t figure why she suddenly felt so shy. More vulnerable and exposed than she ever had whilst he gazed down at the most protected parts of her. “I’d prefer to do it myself.”
