Page 32 of Werewolf Heart

Robert kisses the back of her head.

“Thank you.” He begins to move out anyway.

“Hey!”

“I want to change positions,” he says, as he finally gets his cock out of her wet warm cunt. “I want to look at you as I come inside you.”

“Fuck,” she whispers, stays still for a moment. Then turns back around, back on the bed, her sweaty flushed face staring back at his yellow glowing eyes. “God, Rob.”

“Shush,” he kisses her, tongue tracing the nibbled lip. He pulls her legs around his hips, begins to push inside her. “You just lay there and relax. Let your Mister Sexy Werewolf Boyfriend take care of you.”

She laughs hard into his mouth, teeth cling against one another.

“Okay,” she says between spouts of laughter. “Okay, I’ll let you, baby.”

“Thank you.” And he begins to thrust.

Sara melts before him, eyes half-closed, limbs so loose she feels like putty in his hands. Robert holds her legs close to him. Gaze fixed on hers. He watches her eyes flicker, mouth agasp, hearing all the cute little sounds he punches out of her, the way her sweat mixes with her perfume and his own clothes—he puts a leg over his shoulder and pushes forward.

She throws her head back, gasping for air.

Robert licks from her collarbone to her throat, moaning at the taste of her skin. Lord forgive him, but all he wants right now is to keep fucking Sara. Taste her whole skin with his tongue, leave hickeys all over, cock or fingers inside her, doesn’t matter, all he wants is to watch her come over and over again; till it truly becomes too much, too good, and she’s begging him to stop. He wants to break her down. And build her back up again.

He wants to clean her afterwards, massage her sore limbs, put her to bed and cuddle her till she falls asleep.

The beast inside him agrees, it howls from behind his brain. It tells him to thrust faster. Push the sweatshirt further up and touch her breasts.

(It also tells him to claim her and breed her full with his pups. He quickly tells that side of himself to chill the fuck out.)

Rob licks her right nipple, gazing at Sara’s flustered face, sucks it into his mouth. She cries out.

“R-Rob, it f-feels, ah, fuck, I t-think I’m gonna come again, ah, ah, Rob, I think I’m going to burst!”

It doesn’t take much. A few flickers to her clit and Sara’s toes curl, she clenches around him, and her pussy squirts all over his cock. The image of the woman he loves breaking down, sobbing from how good everything feels, makes Robert come in an instant. He pushes forward once, twice, and hangs his head down.

They breathe heavily, bodies exhausted.

Sara taps his head from the side. “Rob, you’re crushing me.”

“O-Oh, sorry!”

He’s sure to be careful when dismantling her. He lays besides her and she gets hold of his hair, her hand caresses it.

Sara has such a sweet loving expression on her face he doesn’t hesitate in kissing her. They make out for a bit, getting a bit frisky here and there. But Robert eventually lets go. He touches her cheek.

“I love you,” he says, blushes.

“I love you, too.” And she giggles as he comes down for another quick kiss.

After—after they’re both clean and Robert has massaged her from head to toe—Sara confesses she has never squirted before.

“No guy has ever managed that. I never managed that.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t think it’s that common.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But still. It was— It feels like I’m repeating myself, but it felt like I was floating. Like someone was pulling on my string and then, let go.”

“Did you like it? It wasn’t too… strong or anything?”

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