Page 32 of Rogue If You Want To
“Does the cock come with a side of spanking?”
The pink mark on his behind ignited a hunger deep inside me as I rolled my mate onto his belly, and he got on all fours.
“Have you been bad? Spanking is only allowed when you’ve been naughty.”
“Oh yes.” His husky voice was so enticing I wanted to ram my cock inside him and fuck him hard. “I’ve been very bad.” He shoved his ass up high, and I smacked it. The sharp slap wassuch a contrast to the soothing sounds of the forest, and Otto begged me to put my cock in him.
“Now, gods dammit.”
With the tip of my length nudging his hole, I gripped his hips, my fingers making dimples in the soft flesh. He gasped and pushed his butt back so the head slipped inside his channel.
“I want more than just the tip, please.”
“And you shall have it.”
But I needed to rein in my desire, otherwise I’d come too soon, so I took a breath and stroked his skin, enjoying the goosebumps that followed obediently behind. My mate shivered but urged me to fill him, and while I’d intended to tease him more, I couldn’t resist his pleas, and my length surged inside him.
“Yes!” Otto wiggled his butt, a signal he wanted me to fuck him. And I would, but I was enjoying being still, filling and stretching him and anticipating what was to come.
The tension increased as my mate whined, and he accused me of taunting him. I loved when he begged and pleaded for my cock. He bucked his hips before shooting forward, leaving only the head inside his hole. I glanced at my cock, covered in slick and captured some of the slipperiness. I offered him a taste, and he sucked every last drop from my fingers as his slurping and smacking his lips ramped up my desire.
I gazed at his skin, crisscrossed with scars from that deadly fight. Wanting to put those memories behind us, I filled him again, and with our bodies fused, I leaned forward and licked a trail up his spine. More goosebumps marched in formation behind my fingertips.
“I was promised spanking as well as fucking.”
After righting myself, I squeezed one of his rounded butt cheeks and gave it a light tap, appreciating the rosy pink stain on his behind. He begged for more, but I dug my nails into his flesh. He yelped and in a breathy voice told me he liked it, before I fucked him so hard his body shuddered. We were both panting when I changed the pace, slowly going inch by inch until I was again buried in his depths where my cock fit so snugly inside him.
Otto flung his head back as I savored the potent scents of slick and sweat. I was overcome with wanting to possess and claim him. I couldn’t get enough of my mate, and I slammed into him. He responded by squeezing around me. My body tingled, spreading to my fingers and toes until he let go, and I pulled out and thrust into him again.
A rustling in the grass and a twig snapping formed a backdrop to our moaning, grunting, and whimpering. This man owned me. I craved his intoxicating scent and wanted to devour him, so I bent over and sank my teeth into his flesh, mating him. Sweat dribbled over my lips, and I relished the saltiness that combined with Otto’s taste on my tongue.
“Now I’m really yours,” he panted.
A gripping sensation was building inside me, but I tamped it down. Not yet. But pleasure radiated from my center to every part of me, messaging that any delay was impossible. And so I gave in, allowing each thrust and moan to bring me closer to my climax. Otto matched my rhythm, and my body slapped against him while copious amounts of slick drenched his thighs.
His tiny mewls warned me he couldn’t hold back. He cried out and tensed, and his body spasmed, with cum streaming from his cock.
I thrust into his channel again and unleashed the lust that consumed me. I convulsed, digging my hands into my mate and anchoring me to the ground. My cum streamed inside him, and my knot swelled.
With my inflated cock still wedged inside my mate, I held him tight as I lowered us to the blanket. Otto twisted his head to the side and dug his beast’s teeth into my arm.
“And now you’re mine too.”
18
OTTO
Tonight was the night of our first official pack run, and I was excited about it. But also, I was nervous. Very nervous, and I didn’t need to be. The pack had been wonderful to us from the get-go. Still, the memories of pack runs from my past kept pushing their way to the forefront of my thoughts.
Growing up, pack runs were intense, to say the least. My father was very big into proving we were just as big and strong and powerful as the predatory animals in packs around our state. It was one of the reasons he was so adamant about calling our bevy a pack. It sounded big and tough.
My father added what he calledtraditionsinto the mix to prove how badass otters were. As if our beasts weren’t already badass—just not in the way he wanted them to be. And those traditions morphed bevy runs into the pack runs that were now the norm there. Or were they? So much had to have changed with the deaths of both my brother and my father. I was curious, but not curious enough to go there to check it out. This was my home, my pack, now. The past needed to stay there.
Only it didn’t. As I prepared for today, the contrast kept invading my headspace. My bevy didn’t have a potluck before the run. We didn’t have sing-alongs. We didn’t have fun romps in the woods. It was all serious and with purpose.
It was more like training than anything else. And sometimes that training would mean running perimeters or trying to get particular items from the water that had been placed there earlier by my father’s Beta, all of which were dangerous and not something that should be there in the first place. He didn’t care about the pollution or who did or didn't get hurt as long as we all complied.
And then there was thefun, as he called it, where they’d set up people to attack us, and your job was to get away. They were usually other bevy members, but not always. More than once I feared for my life, which was his intent. Asshole.
