(3) Painstaker

Twenty-Eight: Animosity

WARNING: SEXY TIMES ARE ABOUT TO HAPPEN

I usually separate the hanky panky from the rated PG stuff, but I haven't here. PLEASE let me know if you DON'T want to read sex scenes. If I get EVEN JUST ONE comment or personal message, then I will make two of the same chapter; one with explicit content (which is this one) and one without. 

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Upstairs was just as dark as below, though less dusty. All of the doors, painted white, were closed. All except the one at the end of the hall, which was open only a crack. I crept forward, unaware if my feet were causing the old hardwood floors to creak underneath me. For all I knew, he could have been screaming at me not to come in.

For some off reason, the visual of him with another woman assaulted my brain. Not exactly a romantic getaway, but I was sure the girl wouldn't mind. Sucking in a sharp breath, I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head. He wasn't with another woman, and he wasn't screaming at me to get the hell out.

At least, I sure as hell hope not.

My heart was beating so hard, I could feel it all the way up to my temples. Why was I so nervous? I'm Crystal Westwood, dammit. Pull yourself together.

Rising my chin, I continued my way down the long, narrow hallway. My nose twitched the closer that I got; his scent was becoming more pungent. It was addictive. My hand hovered mere centimetres from the surface of the door. Inside, it was pitch black, which meant the curtains were probably drawn.

Was he sleeping? It would take a few seconds of walking inside before my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Since I was still recovering, my night vision wasn't as strong as usual. My wolf spirit was resting deep inside of my soul, almost too far for me to reach.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The darkness swallowed me as a midnight snack. I blinked a few times, trying to find him, but there was no silhouette in the room. I could barely make out a neatly made bed when the door behind me slammed shut; I could feel the vibration of it under my feet.

Before I could turn around, warm hands grasped my wrists and pulled them together behind my back. Panic seized at my throat, causing me to momentarily forget all of my training. I was about to lift my foot behind me to kick the attacker in the goods, but his scent tripled in strength.

It was Zeke. I couldn't help but sigh in relief, relaxing against his oddly tight grip.

Wait... why was he holding me like this? I was about to ask, lips parted and words on the tip of my tongue, when Zeke used his Alpha strength to haul my body onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. A curse slide from my throat, though I wasn't sure he heard it since my face was being pressed up against the mattress.

Zeke held my wrists securely with one hand until he fastened something around them. Some sort of material. "Um..." I managed to breath out just as he covered my back with his blazing chest. His blazing, vibrating chest. Zeke was talking to me.

Plot twist; I couldn't hear him.

His lips were pressed against the side of my head; I could feel his breath against my skin with every word he spoke. When he stopped, I tried to twist around to face him, but his grip was like steel. "Zeke, I can't..." My words trailed off when he reached around my to cup my boobs. He squeezed, hard, and I was pretty sure I let out a very embarrassing squeak.

In that moment, I decided I would wait until later to tell him about my hearing. I had a feeling that would probably kill the mood, and I was definitely in the mood. Zeke used my being bound at the wrists to his advantage. Pulling back, he trailed his hands down my spine, over each bump that could be felt from my slightly arched position.