The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 10: Watcher on the Wall

OPHELIA'S POV
🌶️🌶️

"I want you to watch," he demanded, grabbing my chin and pulling my head down. I didn't even have time to ponder where a bounty hunter learned to speak with such imperious entitlement, because our eyes locked and he kissed the inside of my thigh, parting his lips to slide his tongue along my unbearably sensitive skin.

Gods, those eyes were so blue. And the warmth of his mouth was a shock, followed by blissfully cool air on my skin, trailing higher and higher. I didn't have time to wish for a razor — not to remove the hair safeguarding my sex, but to groom it — because Nate was too busy licking and sucking and nibbling all along the inside of my thighs, coming up and back down, always stopping just shy of where I really wanted him.

Those dexterous fingers swept behind my knees, up and over my backside, brushing over my nipples — but never lingering. I went to pinch them myself, but he let out a low, warning growl, so I ran my hands through his hair instead, almost groaning at how soft and silky it was.

Nate paused, his breath cool against my wet slit. The bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs was throbbing now, feeding into the empty ache that made me crave something, anything, to fill me and move...

His mouth came down on my pussy, the broad flat of his tongue sweeping up from the entrance all the way to my clit. It was infuriatingly light. I needed more. I moaned into the silky gag and thrust my hips into his face, trying to ride it. Guys usually loved it when I acted like a whore, like I was so desperate that I was willing to wring my pleasure from them. Like their dick was pure gold and just the sight of it drove me into a frenzy.

Nate broke away briefly, making me whimper with need. Maybe I was that desperate. "Trust me," he admonished. "I'm going to look after you."

I hadn't even realised why I was trying to get myself off until he called me out on it. I was so used to fumbling, selfish, pitifully human men from one-night-stands, half of whom didn't even know the clit was real. I'd had to resort to using them like toys over the years, to chip away at that primal urge that only worsened every year I grew into my prime and didn't have a lycan to sate my carnal appetites.

I forced myself to grind to a halt, my fingers tightening in his hair as I focused on the glorious sight in the mirror. Nate had shed his coat at some point, and I could see the outline of his sculpted muscles through the thin fabric of his button-up, bunching as he leaned forward to feast on me. I spared an appreciative thought for the contrast of my soft, milky skin and the golden tan of his hands; the luscious curve of my hips and toned legs as they spread for his sharp, tailored lines, admitting him entrance to the most vulnerable part of my being.

"Beautiful," he whispered against my sex.

And then he was doting on it, with the same measured poise that he moved through life. There was a deliberate grace to the slow curl of his tongue, pressing and pulling on the centre of my pleasure, stoking the coals of my need into a full-blown fire. I panted into the makeshift gag, feeling it dampen with my saliva, the airy fabric going heavy and solid in my mouth.

Gods, I wished I had something else in my mouth right now. I wanted to make him tremble like this. Make him beg with his body and deny him release until I was ready to finish tasting him.

Nate chuckled, the sound reverberating through my core. "So responsive," he murmured, the words brushing over my clit like a phantom thumb.