Page 81 of A Wolf of War
His body lurched forward, hand braced hard against the slick tile as his hips bucked helplessly. He couldn’t hold it back, couldn’t bite down the gutturalsounds spilling from his throat as she dragged him past the point of no return. The effort to restrain himself was obliterated in a heartbeat, replaced by the firestorm of release tearing through his chest and down his spine.
His head fell back, jaw slack as he lost himself completely in the wet heat of her mouth. A growl escaped him, half-snarl and half-moan. He tried to look down, tried to focus on her, but his vision fractured at the edges, his world narrowed to the sight of her lips stretched around him, her throat working to take every bit of him she could manage.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t filled her in on one important aspect of werewolves and knots.
His pleasure came hot and fast, filling her mouth and then spilling out over her swollen lips. Willow pulled back in surprise as his cock continued to spray a seemingly endless supply of cum, covering her cheeks, nose, and chin in thick jets.
Milo was still trembling, chest heaving, every muscle twitching as he tried to keep himself upright. His hand stayed braced hard against the shower wall, forehead pressed to his bicep while he dragged in ragged, uneven breaths. The world around him was blurred at the edges, nothing but steam and the lingering aftershocksfiring through his veins.
When he finally dared to look down, the sight rooted him to the spot. Willow was still on her knees, motionless, eyes wide as if she wasn’t sure what to do next. The evidence of his pleasure was smeared across her lips and chin, clinging in places she hadn’t had the chance to wipe away, startled and horrified.
Milo’s throat tightened as a laugh tried to claw its way out. He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep it in, shoulders shaking—not because it was funny in the traditional sense, but because the image was seared into him. Forever.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, still catching his breath, water running down his face as he tried not to so much as smile. “I should’ve warned you.”
Willow’s daze cracked, her eyes snapping up at him as she barked, “Warned me? What the fuck do you mean, warned me?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “About… the other thing knots do.”
Her glower intensified. “Which is?”
“It, uh… stores semen.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, lips parted, still covered in his cum, as if the words themselves refusedto register. Then the full weight of it hit her, leaving her looking half shell-shocked, half betrayed.
“Milo,” she said slowly, her voice trembling with deadly seriousness. “I thought I was gonna die.”
That did it. His composure shattered. A laugh exploded out of him, raw and uncontrollable as he braced himself against the wall. He shook his head, water spraying from his hair, shoulders heaving with amusement. Not at her discomfort, never that, but at the absurdity of it all.
“It’snotfunny,” Willow whined, starting to get up. Milo reached down and helped her, pulling her close. He ran a thumb through the sticky, white glob on her cheek.
“Oh, sweetheart, you made such a mess of yourself,” he murmured, mesmerized by this woman who had made such a mess of him, as well.
39
WILLOW
Willow sat at the kitchen island, her hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t touched, staring down into the lightened coffee like it might give her answers to what plagued her.
Lachlan stood opposite her, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his expression calm in that steady, clinical way she knew he must carry at the hospital. She had become a patient, in his eyes. There was no judgment in his eyes, no pity—just quiet assurance.
“It’s all taken care of,” he said gently, setting a folder on the counter but not opening it. “You’re scheduled for tomorrow. First thing.”
Her stomach clenched, but she nodded faintly.
He leaned forward a little, lowering his voice as though they weren’t already alone. “It’s a very straightforward procedure, Willow. Medically speaking, it’s called a dilation and curettage, or D&C. What that means, simply, is that we’ll dilate your cervix and use suction to clear the tissue. It doesn’t take long. The whole thing will be maybe fifteen minutes, tops.”
Her throat worked, but she still didn’t speak. Lachlan gave her space, his tone calm, like he’d explained this a hundred times before to patients who needed the same reassurance.
“You’ll be in and out in a few hours. It’s safe. You’ll cramp afterwards, like a heavy period, but nothing you can’t handle. And both Milo and myself will be there the entire time.” His words had finality, like a promise he wouldn’t allow himself to break.
Finally, he tilted his head, studying her with those kind, tired eyes. “Do you want to be under twilight anesthesia for it? It’ll keep you calm, take the edge off, and you won’t remember much. Some people prefer to stay awake, some don’t. It’s entirely up to you.”
Willow swallowed, blinking down at her untouched coffee. The words sat heavy, clinical but softened at the edges, and for the first time since last night, she felt the faintest stir of relief.
She sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Willow nodded once, her voice quiet but steady.
“I want to be under,” she said. Her fingers tightened on the mug, knuckles pale against the ceramic. “I don’t… I don’t think I could sit through it awake. That sounds liketorture.”
