Page 90 of Feral

I slid the jeans down, unable to look Fraser in the eye. My stomach was knotted so tight that I felt sick and my voice had started to tremble. I’d never told anyone this. Never bared these scars to my partners in this way. I was stripping more than my clothes. I was stripping my soul for him, and hoping that what he saw, inside and out, was someone that he wanted.

“And still, I would usually find a reason to turn the lights off, to be under the covers as much as possible. I got really good at slipping a robe while I was covered up, or while partners were in the bathroom or asleep.”

I dropped the bustier to the chair with my blouse, my eyes glued to the floor as I stood there in nothing but my red lace thong.

“Daphne—”

“I’m afraid too, Fraser,” my whisper was broken. “I’m afraid to see disappointment in your eyes because I’m not the way you imagined. And even though I know I’m worth more than your opinion, it will still hurt deeply. But here I am…trusting you. And you don’t have to do the same. I won’t force you to shed your glamour or be with me but…I just needed you to know that I’m afraid too but I’m willing to try.”

I took a deep, shaky breath and wanted to look at him but anxiety held me in place. While I’d come a long way, there was still that kernel of fear that I could never seem to get rid of. And it was for that reason that I just couldn’t meet his gaze right now. I’d done this out of a need for him to know that I understood, that he wasn’t alone with these feelings. But I also realized, in this moment, that I needed to know if Fraser would be one more person that couldn’t accept me, or if he would be different. And I wanted him to be different. Oh god, how I wanted it.

The floor creaked and I knew he was moving toward me but still, I couldn’t make myself look up. The two feet that came into my view were human, and my inhale felt jagged, like glass was pressing on my heart. I’d meant it, he didn’t have to shed his glamour, but I had hoped he would. One very thick, human finger tipped my chin up, tears dripping down my neck as he did. I closed my eyes on instinct, wanting one more moment before I saw the answer in his eyes.

“Look at me,” his voice growled.

I forced myself to open my eyes and gasped out a sob. It washim, the real him. My gaze caressed his beautiful soft fur, the short ears that were twitching, his snout where his lips were pressed into a thin line. I looked lastly at his eyes, the place where I would have my answer. And my breath hitched at what I saw.

There was no thinly veiled disgust, no disappointment, nothing unsure. No, what I saw was hunger, naked and raw. Not only had he trusted me enough to give me his real self, but he also wanted what he saw in front of him. My body and my soul.

He wantedme.

His clawed fingertips went around my throat at the base of my jaw, a grip of possession, desire. His hand was big enough that his thumb rubbed on the hollow of my throat, my body relaxing into his touch.

With his other hand, Fraser skimmed the side of my torso and I held my breath. This was the one place that I was most self-conscious of, the place that often drew the most criticism.

“Yer so beautiful. Anyone who couldn’t see that, they’re all fools, unworthy of ya. And I…I’ll try to be worthy of ya, Daphne, if you’ll let me?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed through the tears falling down my face. A huge, burst of sound halfway between a giggle and a sob.

“Yes, Fraser. Yes, I will…”

He swallowed, his eyes on mine.

“If at any time ya don’t like what I’m doing, if I scare ya, tell me to stop. Understand? Promise me.”

I skated the back of my fingers across his soft cheek and ran my thumb along the top of his velvety snout. I relished the sight of his eyes rolling back as he nuzzled into my touch.

“I promise. Just give me you, Fraser. That’s all I ask.”

“Daphne,” he moaned, “beautiful, impossible Daphne.”

The rough callouses of his fingertips skimmed under one of my breasts and down my stomach, then he brushed the back of his hand up the path, his fur luxuriously soft against my skin. Back and forth, he took his time mapping the skin of my torso with his hand. Every inch of me precious, adored under his attention. It was the most intimate thing anyone had ever done to me, and Fraser hadn’t even come close to my mons or my very, very wet cunt.

By the time his claws skimmed the top of my thong and low growl rolled up from his throat, I was tingling all over, breathless. He went to his knees and looked up at me like a worshiper at the altar, and I was his goddess.

He ran his nose along my skin and followed it with the heat of his tongue along the underside of my belly, the tip dipping under the top of my thong. It was erotic in a way that was bestial, dangerous. His arms were so long that he could kneel and still hold onto my throat. I wasn’t usually into being controlled during sex, but this was different. This was my Werewolf taking control, claiming me. The thought sent heat to my core and I made a tiny whimpering sound as his tongue ran along my hip.

“Mine,” he whispered against the curve of my torso.

I knew I was still hurting from what had been said to me in the past, the harsh judgment of those that I had wanted to love may have scabbed over but it still affected me. And here was this beautiful, powerful Werewolf mending those wounds with the scrape of his claw and the caress of his tongue. The cracks inside of me ached a little less as he loved my body in slow strokes. Tears fell down my face and I let my hands roam over his head and shoulders, wanting to give back the bliss he was gifting to me.

He stopped at the Band Aid on my stomach and planted a gentle lick there.

“I’ll be more careful this time,” he promised.

“I know. I trust you.”

“Ya have no idea what that means to me.”

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