Mila looked back in time to see him bend over and work on pleasuring her pussy with his tongue. Mila melted. She let out a moan and grasped at the couch desperately, stunned at how much her body was responding. Each touch sent electricity shooting through her thighs and hips, every lick, every brush of his lips bringing her to perfection’s door. She arched her back and allowed him full access, lowering her arms. It felt like heaven. No, better than heaven.
She wasn’t the type to take all the fun. As enjoyable as what he was doing was, he deserved some reward. Bent over on the couch with his robe hanging all about, a rock-hard erection poked obviously through his garments. Mila mindlessly reached back for his manhood and played with it. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that you didn’t have to do anything in particular to make a guy hard. You just had to be present, so she mostly let her hands fondle around his sack. Most of her attention locked onto the rest of him, the quiet grunts he made, the way she could see his chest bulging under his clothes, how passionate and eager his eyes were, how his tongue curled in her. She forced herself to not curl up in pleasure.
Mila swatted his dangling nuts. Hard, hard enough for them to whack against both of his legs from the momentum.
It was pure instinct, seeing as the last significant other she’d had was all into that kind of thing and he’d basically trained her to take full advantage of any weaknesses during sex without thinking. She’d done it exactly the way she’d been asked to do so many times: brutally, knocking them from side to side before bringing her heel up sharply and mashing them when they couldn’t escape.
However, she forgot one key thing: this was not her past fling. This was Maurice, and he probably fell into the much larger category of men who preferred not to get racked like that randomly. Her eyes widened and she pulled her heel down. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t—”
“What the fuck was that for?” he snapped, which was basically the exact opposite reaction of what she’d hoped. He jumped away from her, pulling free of her grasp. “That was too hard!”
Dammit! Stupid, stupid, stupid! She resituated herself quickly, laying on her stomach facing him. That had not been a love tap. That had been a full punch, the sort of thing that might make some guys say fuck it, I’m out, and ruin the entire mood. She hoped Maurice wasn’t like that because he’d been clearly trying to make it enjoyable for her. Even while he was selflessly working on her, she’d hurt him. “I’m so sorry!”
She didn’t dare look at Maurice’s face. She couldn’t. She’d done something bad and painful to him. It was nothings short of crushing to see his hands around his nuts to protect them on the other end of the couch. He thought she might try to hit him again, and truthfully, she didn’t blame him.
“Let me make up to you,” she pleaded.
She’d gotten him good, better than expected. It was like having a past partner with a foot fetish and forgetting not everyone had that, except it had a lot more damaging and lasting consequences.
He didn’t move. This was Mila’s worst nightmare coming true. Even as the pleasure from his tongue and her pussy faded, humiliation rose. He didn’t trust her. “Please.” She put her hands down, not sure what to do. Trying to force him wasn’t going to work, and everything was going so well before she’d screwed up! “I feel terrible. It was a complete accident, I swear.”
“That was not an accident.”
Mila’s ears dropped submissively. “It’s really hard to explain. I…I had a partner once who wanted it, and I just… Look, I—” she searched for some way to make this right. “Listen, you can do whatever you want to me for a while as payback, okay?” The words were out of her mouth before she thought about them. There were a whole lot of things she didn’t want to do, but if he forgave her, it might be worth it. “I won’t do it again, I swear!”
He paused. “Anything?”
Flashing unpleasant images flashed through her mind, from throat-fucking to boob slapping. She’d hit him way harder than she expected and retribution could be equally painful. “Yeah,” she said in a very small voice, hoping he’d show some mercy and not pick something awful but ready to try and go through with it if necessary.
He lowered his hands. The robe still covered his body, but the way he was moving made it pretty clear he had not enjoyed that experience. “Huh.”
Mila did not like the sound of that. Once she undressed fully, her full body would be at his disposal for a period. Though the idea of having a partner dominate her was a recurring fantasy to Mila, it became less appealing if the guy was angry and actually wanted vengeance. Mila didn’t have to do it. She needed to for her own sake, to apologize and show she meant it.
She still didn’t meet his eyes. “What…what do you want me to do?”
This had become rather unsexy in a matter of no time. There was a fine line between having fun and hurting someone in sex, and she’d crossed it. The mood still lingered in the background, waiting to be called back, but Mila couldn’t get back into the romantic scene with the guilt.
She couldn’t get a good reading off Maurice from his tone. “What do you dislike doing the most?”
She really didn’t like the sound of that. “I…” she swallowed. “Um…”
“Lie on your back.”
A small and naïve portion of Mila had conjured up this image of him forgiving her without having her go through with her deal. That image shattered. She hesitantly turned over on the couch, facing up with her head nearest him.
“Close your eyes.”
This was swiftly going in a direction Mila didn’t like, but a deal was a deal. She shut her eyes and listened to him getting closer until he was right on top of her. She winced in preparation of any number things. One image stood out more than the rest. Why would he have her like that if he didn’t want a deepthroat, balls-to-the-face blowjob? With her preoccupied, he could do anything to her body without her being able to do a whole lot.
Maurice’s voice. “What are you thinking?”
“I have a gag reflex and can’t hold my breath for very long.” She’d done it twice after plenty of persuasion. Both had been formative moments because of how unpleasant it had been. The entire time, with a cock rammed down her throat, she’d gasped for air and been on the verge of choking, not to mention the humiliation thrown in to boot. There were few things she’d rather not do and honestly, she strongly considered backing out of the deal. If she didn’t feel so bad about what she’d done, she would’ve bailed already.
“Open your eyes and look at me.” Maurice again.
She cracked open an eye, expecting a shaft to be over her face. Instead, what she saw when she looked up was the werewolf smiling at her, still clothed. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “You surprised me. That’s all.”
“You don’t want to do anything to me?” This had to be some sick joke. Guys didn’t give up opportunities like that. They didn’t get a free pass to act out any dirty desires and toss it in the trash. Maybe he was a different breed of man after all, which made her want him even more.
He crouched and kissed her forehead. “I want you to forgive yourself. Everyone makes mistakes.”
Mila didn’t need any convincing of that argument. Relief flooded through her, though the remaining guilt stayed. She’d done something unacceptable, even if he was being a remarkably decent guy about it. “Let me make it up to you.”
Before he could argue, she untied his robe. It slid off, exposing his body in its entirety to her. She couldn’t hide a smile seeing it. She, Mila, was making love with a man so attractive a sculptor couldn’t have done a better job. His rod sprung free, though she could tell by the closeness of his legs he remained unwilling to expose himself again. She didn’t blame him. One thing Mila had learned about men with her various boyfriends: it all came from the low-hanging fruit. If she ever wanted to make a man happy, she’d worship their sack. It was normally something she didn’t enjoy since a lot of guys had apparently never heard of a razor and get
ting pubic hairs in her mouth grossed her out, but luckily Maurice kept himself clean shaven.
Using his rod as a handle, she tugged him closer to her level. He straddled her chest, smooth muscles bulging with the slightest effort and Mila got to work on apologizing in a way she knew he’d like. She lifted her head to his dangling nuts, which were going to be more sensitive than normal after the wallop earlier. She cradled them in one hand and brought them to her lips. She gave each ball a lingering make-up kiss and was delighted to see him grow harder.
“Sorry, little guys,” she whispered.
“Big guys,” he corrected immediately.
She kissed each again. “Sorry, big guys.”
Mila got uncomfortable around a man’s junk. It was an unfamiliar territory and she always worried about doing it wrong or messing it up. The first time she’d made love, she’d yanked it like she was trying to get a lawnmower started. The more experience she got, the more she realized: everything worked for a male. Everything. Even if she felt like she was blowing it, it had a positive reaction. No complexity. No reading between the lines.
Mila couldn’t see anything around Maurice’s junk in front of her. She had a vague impression of him moving around but she kept worshipping his sack. This was not going to turn out to be a bad experience for him. She was not going to be remembered badly for her earlier mistake. She pulled out every trick in the book she knew to make it better for him.
They slipped straight into where they had been before: sensual love-making. Maurice manoeuvred to face the same direction as her, ushering in a storm of soft kisses all across her body. Fire burned in their eyes and passion in their souls and the two sucked each other into an embrace. Their bodies became one, grinding against each other, hands sneaking all over. His lips found her throat and he kissed along it, working his way up to her own lips.
Mila moved onto her stomach, pressing herself into the soft, squishy fabric of the couch. Maurice came behind her and spooned her delicate frame with his powerful, sculpted one. Mila felt the heat of his body against hers as his arms wrapped around her in a loving embrace.
She became aware of his rod up against her backside, stiff and resting between her cheeks. He didn’t try to just put it in, which she appreciated. Enough guys got all trigger happy and went straight for that to the point it got old. Maurice had toyed with her enough that she was ready for him, but he dry humped her slowly. Mila arched her back and presented herself to him with him still resting over her.
The sound of voices from someone outside got louder as they walked past. Mila didn’t give it the slightest effort to keep quiet. Maurice did. He stopped moving. Nah. She wiggled her butt at him, jiggling his business.
“Ahem.” She wiggled some more. “You there?”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He put his hand around his rod and guided it to her slit, pressing the head in just a bit. It emerged wet. He was bigger than normal, and Mila was smaller than most girls, so he clearly was trying to avoid hurting her. Mila was willing to take that chance.
She twisted and pulled his head close to hers, kissing him again and relishing the hunger in his golden eyes. It thrilled her to see how much he wanted her, how much it was taking to avoid thrusting as hard as he could. She was thankful for his restraint. Mila wasn’t inexperienced. She’d had a few boyfriends, and each of them seemed like they were way more focused on getting in her than making sure she enjoyed it. They were all smooth until the moment came, then it was all about them with a passing thought for making her enjoy it. Maurice wasn’t like that. He was actively putting all his attention on her, and Mila had to say he was good.
He plunged his rod into her core abruptly, startling Mila and knocking her forward a few inches. A gasp broke free of her throat, following by a moan of ecstasy. He fit her perfectly. He couldn’t have been made for her any better if she’d designed him. Rhythmically, building speed, he thrust into her. With each roll of his hips, it brought Mila closer and closer to orgasm. If she’d heard it from a friend of hers, she’d have laughed and said, oh, there’s no way he’s that good.
He was.
It was like getting down with a sex expert. He moved with ease, guiding her, worshipping her, always touching her g-spot. Mila melted. She’d planned to do something back to reward him and make it so she wasn’t just taking instead of giving, but all thoughts vanished. He’d taken away her ability to think. For then, she hovered in a perfect orb of shudders and quivers, waiting in suspense for another thrust.
Making love to a werewolf. It was something she’d never considered she’d do, and yet here she was. She could deny to herself that it was happening, say that it was all some naughty dream and she’d wake up soon. She could convince herself that he’d played her while she was vulnerable. The options were endless, but deep down, she knew: she wanted this. She’d known what she was getting into and she didn’t regret anything.
She felt it coming right before it hit. A wave of pure, immense pleasure surged through her like a dam breaking, overloading her senses. She fell apart shuddering and moaning. How had he done that so quickly? It was like he’d come through with a list and checked off literally everything to make her turned on. She’d never felt anything like that.
Mila was so caught up that she barely noticed Maurice pulling out and stroking himself, still rock hard. Mila sprang to action. He’d made her come like nobody else ever had. He deserved the same. Still quivering, she laid in front of him as he kneeled.
Mila wasn’t one for blowjobs. Given her choice, she wouldn’t give one. It seemed ridiculous to work so hard for her partner when the game was mostly over when he came before her. It was generally pretty one-sided. However, she had no hesitation with Maurice—especially after the earlier fiasco.
Maurice smiled at her. His skin shined with sweat, illuminating all the curvatures in his brawny build. “Impressed?”
She couldn’t help snickering in response. “You’re good.”
She left out the rest of it: too good. Like hard to top. She tried to ignore the pressure to do the same to him. She thought she knew what she was doing, but compared to him? Nowhere near. During those moments when they’d been making love, it hadn’t been some guy banging a girl. He’d catered to her every desire. It was as though he held her in his hand and said, “okay, now.” Her body had belonged to him, and she loved every bit.
So far, he’d done everything right. He’d turned her on, created the perfect mood, and did everything she could have wanted and more in a very successful way. And Mila, well, Mila had hit him in the sack. That was the extent that she’d really added to it all. That was okay. She could make it up. Hopefully.
She planted her lips on the head of his shaft lightly, giving it a kiss. It twitched with anticipation, which was a confidence boost for her. She stuck her tongue out, keeping direct eye contact with him, before licking the very tip and giving it another quick open-mouthed kiss. She had him. His chest trembled as she got close again. She pulled back at the last second before giving him what he wanted and sucking on the tip.
Werewolf or not, he reacted like every other man. He let out quick, hot breaths. Mila kept working, but her gaze strayed up to the rest of him. It thrilled her to see how much he was clearly into it, especially when she stepped it up a notch and stroked him. It didn’t feel like with the other guys which was mostly a chore. It felt amazing to watch a man like him need her so much after he’d done the same to her.
Mila put more of her mouth around him, moving deeper and past his head. This wasn’t something she did often. She didn’t like the sensation too much, but every guy she’d ever known loved it. She took a deep breath and brought more of him into her throat, playing with him with her tongue. If this didn’t get him going, he was a superhuman. No time later and he was clearly about to cum. She recognized the look, even though he didn’t say anything.
She pulled back. She didn’t care what he did. There was absolutely no chance she was going to let him cum in her th
roat, period. That being said, she knew the last few seconds were the most important, so she kept stroking him.
“Mila, I am—”
That’s as far as he made it before he came. Mila thought she was out of range, but a face-full of cum proved her wrong. She closed her eyes and let him. Fuck it. Not her thing, but probably was his. It was too late anyway. When he was finished, she cracked one eye with a grimace. Ugh. It made her feel better to see him panting and quivering.
Mila wiped her mouth clean. If she didn’t think about it, it didn’t exist. It was mayonnaise. Yeah, that was it. Mayo. “I am still really sorry about earlier.”
He laughed genuinely. “You know how to apologize.”
She studied his tattoo. The more she looked at, the more she realized it wasn’t a random shape. It was a language. She couldn’t read it, but it was a good conversation starter, so she tossed out a question about it. “I like your tattoo. What does it say?”
Prior to her question, everything was as ideal as a storybook. Then it all changed. Abruptly a shadow came over his face. Pain masked what had been amusement, torment overtaking joy in moments. Mila’s face fell. She’d done something wrong. What, she had no idea.
“Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’m fine.” His tone proved that he wasn’t telling the truth. “I…” he looked away. “I have to go.”
She leaned up, cleaning her face more. “Wait, why? Did I—”
He gave her a sad look and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. You did nothing wrong.”
With that, he grabbed his robe and stormed out the door—leaving a naked Mila stunned and sitting on the couch with a dumbfounded expression.
Chapter 13
Mila sat.
Her brain told her she needed to do something, to go after Maurice, to find out what was wrong. Something about her comment about his tattoo had brought upon the change. There was only one problem with that—it didn’t make a lick of sense. It was as though he’d pointed to her ear and told her it was a nice ear and she’d broken down and rushed away in tears.
The Deadwolves' Prisoner Page 10
