12
ALICIA
I’m not exactly sure how we get back to Brandon’s house.
It’s not that my memories aren’t intact, although the beer is definitely doing its job loosening me up. I spend the whole evening laughing at his jokes and quietly marveling at how sweet and empathetic he is. I don’t remember this about him. Did he always have this softer side?
I remember him paying the bill, and I remember that when he got up to leave, I got up with him. I remember the moment on our walk home when I should have turned toward my father’s house if that was where I wanted to go.
I don’t remember deciding not to turn.
And now he’s looking at me with those emerald green eyes, and I know I’m in for a wild night.
“I can’t believe you look like this,” he says.
“What do you mean?” I’m almost dizzy with anticipation already. I know what’s about to happen, and yet I feel like I don’t, and there’s something intoxicating about that.
“This is just what you wear around your house?” he says. “You didn’t know you were going to get fucked tonight. What were you thinking when you put those clothes on?”
I look down at my outfit, which is comprised of perfectly ordinary shorts and a white shirt. I don’t know what he means.
He puts his hands on my bare midriff. “You don’t even know, do you?” he asks. “You don’t even know how fucking delicious you look.”
“I-”
“Come here.” He pushes me gently toward the bathroom, keeping his hands locked on my waist, and guides me to stand in front of the mirror. Then he turns me so that my back is to his chest, so that I’m staring at my own reflection.
“Look,” he says, and it sounds like a command.
I look. It’s the same reflection I see in the mirror every day, of course, though I’ll admit it’s very sexy to see his big, rough hands on my body.
“You still don’t see,” he observes, and his hands slide up slightly and un- knot the bottom of my shirt, letting it fall open.
I’m more covered up than I was a moment ago, and yet it feels like I’m undressing. My breathing comes a little faster.
He moves his hands beneath the fabric of my shirt. “Keep watching,” he murmurs right in my ear. “I want you to see what you look like.”
He cups my breasts in his hands, his thumbs tracing slow circles around the outside of my nipples. I feel the heat start to pool between my legs as I watch my body respond, my nipples growing erect and hard at his touch.
“You see what I mean?” he asks. “You’re so fucking hot. This is all I’ve been able to think about, Alicia. Untying that shirt. Touching you like this. What you would look like when I did it.”
I feel a flood of wetness in my panties. I’m so turned on already.
“And if I hadn’t known better,” he continues, tweaking my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers now, “I would have said that you wore this shirt on purpose to entice me. But you didn’t. You didn’t even know I was coming over. This is just what you wear.”
I don’t bother trying to answer. I just rest my head against the side of his neck and breathe in the scent of him. It’s overwhelming.
“You need to be careful, going around dressed like this,” he says. “It’s been a while since you lived with wolves. I don’t know what humans are like, but there are men here who will try to make a move if they see you looking so delicious.”
“Men like you?” I manage.
“That’s right,” he says, his voice low. “Because I’ve got you here, haven’t I?”
I can only nod helplessly. “Are you turned on?” “Yes.”
“You can do better than that. Tell me.”
“I’m so hot for you,” I gasp. “I want your hands all over me, Brandon. I want you to fuck me like only a wolf can.”
A grin spreads across his face. “Those human men don’t do it for you?” “They’re nothing. Fucking nothing. You’re what I need. They could never
compare to you.”
He unsnaps my shorts and folds down the waistband, leaving a perfect gap to slip his hand in and cup my pussy through my panties. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” he says. “You’re so wet.”
I don’t bother answering that. I just rock greedily against his palm.
He shifts the soaked fabric aside, and a moment later I feel the warm pressure and fullness of two thick fingers sliding into me. “Think you can make yourself come on my hand?”
I know I can. I close my eyes and nod.
“Do it, then,” he says. “But with your eyes open. I want you to see what you look like when you come, Alicia. It’s the sexiest thing in the entire world.”
I open my eyes and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I don’t even look like myself anymore. Whenever I look at my reflection, it’s with complete composure. I’ve even gotten into the habit of turning my head the right way to give myself more flattering angles. But now I’m a mess in his hands, wanton and sexual. I watch myself riding his fingers at the same time as I feel them pumping away inside me, and I swear it’s like watching pornography.
“Now you see what I mean,” he says. “This is what I see when I look at you in that outfit, Alicia. This is what I imagine. Stripping you, opening you up, getting you totally indecent and watching you fall apart. Fuck, you’re good. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And right now, I feel the same way. The reflection I’m staring at is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
But it’s not just me. It’s the whole picture. Not just my wild arousal, my desperate need, but also everything about what Brandon is doing.
He’s got one arm wrapped around me, practically holding me up as I writhe on the hand that’s down my pants. He’s not looking at our reflections. He’s watching me, looking down on me, his eyes wide and ringed with the golden color that lets me know his wolf is close to the surface. His teeth are
bared. There’s something electric about being so close to danger and yet being confident that he isn’t going to hurt me, that he never could.
He presses the heel of his hand against my clit just as I rock my hips again, and the friction is overwhelming. Suddenly I’m coming, my orgasm as powerful and unexpected as a breaking wave out at sea.
“Don’t look away,” he growls in my ear.
I keep my eyes on my reflection, even as I’m crying out in ecstasy, even as the pleasure rocks my body so hard that my feet actually leave the ground for a moment. I can’t form conscious thoughts about the way I look right now, in the throes of orgasm, but there is something wild and powerful and magnificent about it, and this feels like a kind of pleasure I could never have experienced at the hands of a human man.
As I start to come down, Brandon shoves my shorts down to my ankles and kicks my legs apart. He grabs the back of my neck-not roughly, but very firmly-and bends me over the sink. I feel his hard cock pressing up against me, and it makes me gasp to realize how aroused he is. It’s just from watching me. I haven’t even touched him.
He slides inside me, and it’s perfect.
I plant my hands on the porcelain and push myself backward onto him, taking him as deep as I can. He groans, sounding every bit like an animal in heat, and my lips curve up into a pleased smile. I can give as good as I get. This isn’t going to be just about him giving me the ride of my life. I want to be the best he’s ever had, too.
I look up into the mirror at the expression on his face. His teeth are gritted, and with every thrust, a little growl escapes him. His eyes are almost completely yellow now, and the way he’s hunching over me…it’s like he’s
about to shift at any moment. Fuck, he’s really riding the edge between man and wolf. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s so sensual.
I reach down to touch myself as I watch him. Usually I don’t like to be touched again so quickly-it takes my body a little longer than this to recover
-but I’m already aching again, between the pleasure of his cock thrusting away inside me and the intensity of watching him in the mirror.
“Alicia,” he gasps. “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”
“Come for me,” I hiss, working my fingers harder, bringing myself right to the edge of orgasm but not tipping over. I want it to happen at the same time as his. I want to watch us come together.
He lets out a roar and slams his hand against the mirror so hard that I’m vaguely worried it’s going to crack. His hips snap into me, and I feel the pulse of his release. I rub my clit hard and sob as my body convulses around him.
And maybe I actually black out for a moment. I’m not sure. Everything goes very fuzzy.
The next thing I’m really aware of is the sound of the shower. Brandon’s arms are around me, supporting me, lifting me away from the sink and guiding me gently into the warm spray. He stands there with me, and for several moments we’re very still. I rest my head against his chest and feel his racing heart against my cheek.
Brandon’s hands start to move up and down my back, soaping my skin. In another context, this might be sexually charged, but we’re both exhausted from our recent orgasms, and right now it just feels tender and intimate. Even when he turns me so that my back is to him and runs the soap over my breasts, I just feel safe and taken care of.
It’s so masterful.
When we get out of the shower, he wraps me in the biggest towel I’ve ever seen, and for the first time in what feels like hours, he takes his hands off me and steps back.
“How are you?” he asks me quietly.
“I’m good.” Really good. I feel amazing. “Was that… was that good for you?”
He grins. The color in his eyes has faded, and he looks fully human again
-his grin is cocky, but it’s not the bared teeth of a wolf. “We’re definitely going to have to do this again.”
“Are we?” I should push back-I shouldn’t be letting him set the terms right now-but I’m too weak with satisfaction to start arguing.
“Yeah, we are,” he says. “I’m not going to be able to see you around here every day and not at least try to get in your pants. You should be ready for that.”
“Well,” I say, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see each other a little more regularly. See where things go.”
Not that they can go anywhere serious, of course. A relationship with Emmy’s father is absolutely not in the cards, given that he doesn’t know she’s his. But the occasional fuck? Yeah, I could be down for that.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I’m not going to be able to resist any more than he is.