Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (23 page)

His fingers quickly found the center of heat between my legs, stroking up and down against me slowly; I gasped loudly, arching my back. Even through the lacy fabric of my underwear, the feeling of fingers that were not mine on that exceedingly sensitive skin was entirely overwhelming. I could feel muscles I didn’t even know I had clenching and releasing deep inside me, his touch awakening an exquisite aching in my belly. I didn’t completely understand all of my body’s reactions, but I was riding far too high on a wave of pleasure to care.

He began to explore with his fingers, to experiment; he continued to tease my breast through my shirt, but those honey-gold eyes were fixed on my face, paying attention to every nuance of my expression, picking up on what he did that caused the best reactions and doing that more. He was a quick learner, and it didn’t take very long before I crested that wave of pleasure, shuddering and gasping as I came harder than I ever had when I did that to myself.

As soon as I gathered my mind back together somewhat, I squirmed and twisted my body somewhat, enough to be able to reach the fly of his pants in return. He grinned at me, biting down just a bit harder on my nipple, enough to make me yip slightly in surprise, but not enough to actually hurt.

I was awkward at best, fumbling while trying to unfasten his jeans; I imagined that trying to undo someone else’s pants one handed would be challenging even without them doing their best to drive you crazy with pleasure at the same time. Eventually I managed though, and my hand slid inside.

I was mildly surprised to find only skin beneath the denim, but I didn’t let it even slow me down. When my fingers finally found what they were seeking, I gasped softly, and my eyes widened. It felt
so much bigger
than I had expected! I wondered if it was just my lack of comparison, or if he was unusually large. It was intimidating, even a little frightening.

Whichever it was, my fingers began to investigate eagerly, much as his hand done — were still doing, in fact. The feel of him reminded me of the phrase ‘an iron fist in a velvet glove’; a silky soft outside, but completely rigid underneath. He groaned as my fingers wrapped around him, stroking experimentally. My lips curled into a cheshire grin as I repeated the movement, and again, developing a slow but steady rhythm.

❖ ❖ ❖

His lips began to wander again as my hand gradually picked up speed. I did my best to pay attention to his reactions as he hand mine, but I didn’t have the advantage of being able to watch his face as his kissed and nibbled all over my upper body; and worse, he was doing his very best to distract me with his own fingers.

Still, it didn’t take too long before he began to shudder and twitch, groaning loudly; he laid his head on my chest, and his breath came in shallow, rapid pants. I took that as encouragement, stroking harder, faster. He gave an odd sort of keening growl, and his hips pushed forward against my hand, and the shaft I was holding seemed to grow larger still, throbbing a bit. I suppose I should have expected it, but I was surprised when my hand was suddenly drenched in hot, thick fluid that seemed both slightly sticky and oddly slick.

I continued to stroke, but every moment made him shudder and gasp softly, and soon he pulled back away from my hand. I pouted with a little objecting whimper, but he just chuckled breathlessly and nipped at my breast.

“Greedy,” he admonished.

“Mhmm,” I agreed.

“You can have all you want, honey,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss me softly. “It’s just painfully sensitive for a few minutes, afterward.”

“Oh,” I replied lamely. I wasn’t sure what else to say. He laughed at my response, and kissed his way down my neck again. Then he withdrew his hand from my shorts and sat up, eliciting another little whimper from me.

He didn’t go far, though. He remained kneeling between my legs, now using both hands to explore my body, every dip and curve. I sighed softly in contentment, stretching out, enjoying his soothing touches.

Soon, his hands came to settle on my chest, and he began to carefully unbutton my shirt, slowly; I couldn’t decide if the slow pace was to extend his own anticipation, or to give me time to object if I intended to. I certainly had no intention of doing so. When he finally finished with the last of the buttons, he oh-so-carefully pulled my shirt open, as if he was afraid he would hurt me if he moved too quickly.

I smiled up at him in warm encouragement; he grinned in return, and ran his hands from my shoulders, all the way down my mostly-bare body. I shivered, gasping, my body arching up to meet his touch. His hands directly on my skin was sensual and exhilarating. When he reached my waist, he grabbed the edge of my shorts, and slowly tugged them down.

I had to lift my legs in front of him to allow him to get them off, but he didn’t seem to mind; he kissed the backs of my knees, tickling a bit and making me giggle softly.

Once my shorts were tossed randomly behind him on the floor, he offered his hands to me; I was confused for a moment, but then figured it out quickly enough. I took his hands and sat up. He slid my shirt off, tossing it to join my shorts, then leaned in to kiss me tenderly as his hands slid around behind me to try and unfasten my bra.

I felt slightly better about how I had fumbled with his pants; he was having an equally difficult time with my bra, and he had both hands to work with. Of course, he managed it eventually, and sat back somewhat as he slowly pulled the lacy black fabric away. I shuddered, my nipples tightening as they were released from the confining material. He made a soft little sound in the back of his throat, and started to lean forward, but I put my hands flat on his chest to stop him.

He looked up at me in startled confusion, but I smiled reassuringly, then moved my hands to the buttons of his shirt. He laughed softly as he understood, and leaned in again, but this time to kiss me, which I permitted; I didn’t need to see what I was doing to unbutton a shirt.

I finished in short order and let the fabric fall, then ran my hands appreciatively over his arms and chest. He had felt amazing through his shirt; bared to my touch, he was absolutely breathtaking.

Still kissing me, he stood up; I rose to my knees so we wouldn’t have to break the kiss. My hands slid down over his firm stomach, and hooked in his pants, pushing them down as far as I could without pulling away from his lips; he kicked his legs to get them off the rest of the way. He then wrapped his arms around me, pushing me back to lay on the bed again. He did break the kiss then, finally, so that he could carefully remove the last scrap of black lace from ar.

I looked him over in awed admiration; he was completely magnificent, majestic even. From the way his eyes traveled over my body in return, he was thinking very similar things about me.

I lifted my arms towards him in open invitation, which he accepted, kneeling between my legs again, and leaned down to kiss me once more.

Chapter Fifteen

The feel of his skin on mine as our bodies pressed together was euphoric. He felt so hot against my skin, it was as though he were made of living fire; I almost worried that he might actually burn me, though of course that was ridiculous. I just wasn’t used to skin-on-skin contact anywhere but my hands and arms. The chill of my own skin from being unclothed only heightened that burning sensation.

He only held the kiss for a few moments, before he began working his way down the column of my neck again, kissing every inch of it, and down onto my chest. I wiggled a bit, and drew in a sharp breath in anticipation before he even got to my breasts.

As his hot lips encircled one hardened nipple, I cried out raggedly, my back arching up off the bed. He ran a hand down my curved side appreciatively, even as he suckled on my breast greedily. My breasts were not huge — I was and always had been entirely too athletic for that — but I was far from flat-chested either. He seemed delighted with them, in any case. My mind was awash with sheer bliss.

My own hands fluttered aimlessly over his shoulders, back, and butt. As all-consuming as these sensations were, I couldn’t even imagine how it would be when we finally fully ‘did the deed’ as the saying goes.
My lack of experience, of any real frame of reference, was becoming embarrassingly obvious. I was sure I would end up doing something wrong, or fail to do something I should, and ruin the moment.

He released my nipple, causing me to whimper piteously — I was not ready for that pleasure to stop! — but he only moved to the other, and the fireworks started all over. I shuddered and squirmed, and a small corner of my mind wondered if he could get me off again just from this.

He didn’t keep it up long enough to find out, though. Soon he made his way back up to my lips, as the full length of his body pressed in against mine. He was like a heavy, hot blanket on top of me that sent electricity crackling through my nerves.

He shifted his position on top of me, and suddenly I could feel the head of his shaft pressing between my legs. Oh my goodness. It was terrifying in a way, but it also woke a hunger in me, almost a need; an empty place inside me that
demanded
to be filled. I moaned softly, my hips rocking up against his and lowering again.

His hips moved as well, in counterpoint to mine, and the combined effect had him rubbing up and down against my slit, and growing slickly wet in the process. It was intoxicating and incredibly frustrating; my body wanted it, wanted him,
now
. I tried to convince myself that the anticipation would only make it better when that need was quenched, but my body wasn’t quite buying it.

I whimpered again softly, nuzzling my face in against his to whisper as alluringly as I could manage right next to his ear. “Bryson, please… I want you.” I punctuated my soft words with a little nip to his earlobe.

“You’re sure?” he asked, pulling back a bit to look into my eyes, serious despite the sexual tension and excitement. It was frustrating, but I was also glad he took the time to make sure.

“Yes,” I murmured back.

❖ ❖ ❖

He growled softly, and twisted his hips, shifting to try to find the right spot, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He leaned his body to one side, reaching down to try and adjust properly using his hand to guide himself. It felt odd, there were too many things crammed into too small a space, but eventually he managed to find the proper alignment. He withdrew his hand, then, and pushed forward with eager abandon. I expected him to go slowly, especially given how big he was, but apparently he was too zealous for such niceties.

I cried out loudly and my nails dug into his back; it felt like he had split me wide open, from groin to chest. Flesh and muscle unused to being tested were stretched wide, and even though it felt good, it was also agonizing. That moment seemed to drag on for an eternity, pleasure and pain and a fullness like nothing I’d ever felt all swirling together into a hypnotic oblivion.

I just clung to him, gasping and mewling, shuddering all over at the powerful reaction my body was having to this invasion it had wanted so insistently the moment before. Surely it wasn’t always this way? It was supposed to feel good, to feel better than anything else in the world, wasn’t it?

He seemed to realize something was not quite right, because he held himself still as I rode out the maelstrom of sensation and emotion. He slid one hand underneath me, cradling me to his broad chest, waiting patiently for me to regain myself.

I had offered myself to him, and he had claimed what I offered. I was his now, as I always had been, even if I hadn’t recognized it; just as I always would be. It was reassuring to know that both his instincts and the shape-shifter culture would mean he was every bit as much mine, that it would keep us bound together.

I realized that my mind was wandering, trying to cope with the pain by ignoring it. It was lessening now, at least, with him remaining still, and some degree of clarity was returning, my breathing settling to a more normal rhythm. I tried to drag my mind back to the present, to calming my body.

As I began to relax again under him, he pushed himself up on one hand, looking down into my face; his eyes were tight, looking strained, his jaw clenched. I couldn’t decide if he was concerned, or if he had to fight to hold himself back.

“Adalyn, I— are you— are you a virgin?” He said it with a sort of odd reverence, but also a tinge of dismay.

“Uhm,” I swallowed hard, trying to get coherent enough to give a proper answer. “Well… not anymore?” I gave a small, apologetic little smile, my fingers unclenching from his flesh, petting lightly, as if he were a wild thing that was in need of soothing.

❖ ❖ ❖

He gave a low groaning, growling sort of sound, and squeezed me tight against his chest again. He began to rain little kisses over my face, my neck, down onto my shoulder, basically anywhere his lips could reach while we were pressed so close together.