LISA
I lean down, ready to whisper sothing snarky, but Kellan’s hand finally releases the bed rail. It shoots up, tangling in my hair at the nape of my neck, and yanks the rest of the way down. His mouth crashes against mine—hot, demanding, hungry. The kiss is all teeth and tongue and desperation.
My gasp disappears into his mouth. His teeth catch my lower lip, just this side of too rough, and a bolt of heat rips straight through . My nipples ache, tight and throbbing against the fabric of my bra, and my skin buzzes like it’s desperate to be touched.
When he lets go, we’re both panting. His eyes burn gold—wolf eyes—and his hungry, territorial look sends a fresh rush of heat between my legs.
I shift down his body, ready to finish what I started, but his fingers wrap around my arm—surprisingly gentle.
"Not like that," he says roughly.
I blink up at him.
"I want to co inside you." His gaze never wavers as one hand slides up my thigh, slow and claiming. "Not your mouth this ti, baby. I want your pussy. I want to fill you."
The words hit low and hard. My whole body clenches with want. Kellan isn’t normally so... dirty.
He’s more suggestive and primally there, with his brooding, sexy presence. Not like this.
I like it.
"You sure?" I ask, glancing at his injuries.
"Never been more sure of anything."
Normally, I’d roll my eyes at that. But desperate Kellan? Turns out he’s my type.
I climb over him carefully, straddling his hips. The thin hospital gown’s bunched around his waist, leaving him fully exposed. I’m still in my underwear, and when I lower onto him, my soaked panties pressed against the length of him, he groans in frustration.
"Off," he growls, and I chuckle.
I wiggle out of them without leaving my position. His cock drags against my folds as I settle again, and we both inhale sharply.
"Go slow," he breathes, one hand guiding my hip, the other positioning himself. "I want to feel every inch."
I rise up, bracing my palms on either side of his shoulders, careful not to press into the bandages. The blunt head of him nudges against my entrance, and I lower—slowly, so slowly.
He stretches open, inch by glorious inch.
My breath stutters. His groan could split the ceiling tiles.
My thighs tremble from the stretch and restraint. I can feel every throb of him, every twitch of my own body adjusting around his thickness. When I finally bottom out, fully seated, we both stop—panting.
My nipples are painfully hard, untouched and aching, but I don’t chase my own pleasure yet. I focus on him—on the way his jaw tightens, on the ragged edge of his breath, on the golden haze in his eyes.
"Holy fuck," I whisper.
His voice breaks through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight."
And then, "Ride ."
The words hit like a command and a plea all at once.
I move—just a shallow roll of my hips to start. The friction makes my whole body hum. His breath catches. He still hasn’t touched —his hands clamp tight on the rails, arms straining, knuckles white.
I find a rhythm, grinding slow, deep. Each drag sends sparks licking up my spine. His eyes never leave mine.
"You’re perfect," he whispers. "Mine."
The word sends a pulse through my core.
I speed up, moving in slow, deliberate circles. Every motion drags him along nerves that make my thighs quiver.
"Want everyone to sll you on ," he grits out. "Want them to know."
God damn. Dirty talk Kellan needs to co standard.
My skin is flushed and slick with sweat. I lean forward, catching his wrists, pinning them to the bed just to see if I can.
He lets .
That’s hot, too.
"Let have you," I whisper against his mouth, and ride him harder.
The bed squeaks. The hospital walls echo with our breath. His head falls back, throat exposed, his whole body trembling with restraint.
"You’re evil," he gasps.
"You love it."
He does.
I’m in control—but I’m unraveling. My body clenches, slick and overstimulated. My nipples throb with every bounce, and still, I don’t reach for relief. I focus on his reactions: the way his breath falters, the way his hips twitch despite himself, the sound he makes when I tighten just right.
His eyes flutter shut.
"Fuck, baby—please." The plea is raw, breaking on his tongue. "Let co. I need to co inside."
That voice—wrecked and reverent—is my undoing.
"Yes," I breathe.
Sothing snaps in him.
He jerks his hands free, grabs my hips, and slams up into , hard and deep. The angle is brutal and perfect—he hits a spot and I cry out.
He growls, low and animal, and his body locks up as he cos deep inside , pulsing hard, filling so completely it steals my breath. The sound of it—his voice, the desperate possessive sound—tips over the edge.
Pleasure crashes through . My body clamps down around him as I co with a sob, my vision going white. My thighs shake, my whole body collapsing over his.
We ride the wave together. Tangled. Slick. Breathless.
For long monts, we just breathe together with draped over him, our skin sweaty and sticky in the aftermath. His hands stroke lazily up and down my back.
Shit. I’m on his chest. But he doesn’t seem to mind, and my body’s too boneless to move.
"You’re gonna be the death of ," he finally says, sounding completely wrecked. "Best fucking way to go."
I can’t help but laugh, the sound muffled against his shoulder. The mont I move onto my side, his hands slide down to cup my lower belly, one thumb tracing circles just below my navel.
"If you end up pregnant from this," he murmurs, voice taking on a possessive edge, "we’re getting that damn fence."
I raise my head to look at him, incredulous. "You’ve got babies on the brain because of Vanessa. No babies are happening for us, thanks to modern dicine."
He makes a face, almost pouting. "Stop ruining the mont."
It’s almost painful to hold back my laughter. "This is the weirdest kink you werewolves have, I swear to God."
His hands spasm against my skin, and a dark look crosses his face. "Don’t remind you’ve been with another wolf."
Did I ever tell him that?
I wonder how he knows.
Now he sounds grumpy, and it’s adorable. I can’t help but smile as I press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"There’s only one wolf I’m willing to fuck," I tell him softly.
He looks positively salty now. "Can you at least call it making love?"
I laugh so hard I snort, which only makes him look more offended. But I lean down and kiss him properly, letting all my feelings pour into it.
"Making love," I whisper against his lips. "There’s only one wolf I’m ever making love to."
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