A Study on the Sex Life of a Werewolf's Mate

Chapter 8: Holding Back

Ready though she was, as he pushed inside her, hot and hard and thick, the feel of him stretching her was just barely on the pleasurable side of discomfort. She moaned needily, clutching at his large hands where they curled possessively around the crease where her thighs joined her hips, holding her firmly in place.

It was. . . it was. . .

And he plunged deeper. And deeper. And she couldn't think. She was reduced to a trembling puddle of feeling as he pumped hard between her legs, spreading her thighs wider as he bent over her to nip and suck at her damp flesh, growling with satisfaction at each new rosy mark he left on her skin. All while his hips rolled and snapped against hers, sliding in and out of her until it felt like he couldn't possibly go deeper.

Until he straightened and hitched her knee up high, pressing it close to her side. And she whimpered as he thrust so deep it almost hurt.

Yet still, even as her vision threatened to falter and it nearly hurt to breathe, she was panting so hard to keep up with the way he was setting every nerve from the tips of her fingers to deep within her clenching belly alight with each hard thrust, it felt like. . . like. . .

Like it wasn't enough.

Arching, her hips bucking up to meet his, her body begging, demanding more.

She wanted to burn, to ache. Her core clenched harder around his steadily thrusting cock.

She wanted him to consume her.

The way his gleaming golden gaze threatened.

And the way his hard, rigid body was not.

"You're holding back," she admonished with a frown, though the effect of her glare was diminished by the breathless quality of her voice and the way it hitched with an involuntary gasp with each jolting thrust.

"Of course I am," he growled, his jaw bulging with the force of his clenched teeth.

"Don't," she snapped, only to arch, her head falling forward and a silent cry causing her own jaw to go slack as he slammed into a particularly sensitive patch deep inside her: her vision spotted and a low keen whined from deep in her chest. "I need - I - I need. . ." she couldn't put into words what she needed.

Not with his cock sliding in heavy, rapid strokes against that place inside her that never failed to utterly overwhelm her with sensation.

Only to cry out as she was suddenly, devastatingly empty. Her entire body jerked and bucked, her own lips curling in a snarl, as she scrabbled for him, her fingers curled into claws as she tried to grasp at his broad, tense shoulders and corded neck, to haul him back over top of her.

But suddenly she was being hauled from their rumpled bedcovers, his grip almost painful on her upper arm as he half-walked, half-dragged her to the fur rug before the lazily crackling fire.

She had barely caught on to what he was doing when she was shoved down onto her hands and knees.

"Please," she whined, her frame, already tense from the weight suddenly pressing down on her back as his arms curled one after the other around her, arching into his as he drove sharply back inside her with brutal deep thrusts to bury himself so deep they were pressed together completely from thigh to neck.

"Not yet, Pet," he murmured almost apologetically. "Not until you know what you're asking for."

And then he began to move, their bodies rocking in tandem, they were joined so closely, so completely as he worked his length impossibly deeper, pressing hard against places inside her she wasn't even sure even he'd reached before , making her eyes roll back in her head. It drew a moan from so deep in her chest she shuddered with it. His mouth was hot on her back as he laved her skin with open-mouthed kisses.