Like a shot he is above me, his hand cupping my pussy, his thick middle finger slipping inside. I almost gasp loudly, but he shuts me up by devouring my mouth in the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, fucking me with his finger and opening me up so that I can receive him.
All I want to do is scream his name and I can’t. Instead I moan it as he pushes in another finger and grunts against my mouth as he finds a rhythm, working me like he knows my body better than I do. I reach over and wrap my hand around his length and watch his eyes roll back in his head as he silently mouths, “Fuck.” Kissing his way to my ear, he rasps, “We have to be quiet so your kids don’t hear mommy fucking Wolfman.”
I almost laugh but he shakes his head. His cock is rock hard and I stroke him roughly. I can’t help it. He’s turning me into another woman. I want to feel this incredible man cum inside me so hard the bed breaks.
Biting his earlobe, I breathe, “Fuck me, Xavier, now. Before they wake up.” He buries his face in my neck and bites me back. Hard. It’s a strange and wonderful feeling because the coarseness of his beard tickles me even as his teeth nearly break my skin. Caught between the place of pleasure and pain I clamp my mouth shut and keep silent no matter how much I want to cry out in ecstasy.
He licks his fingers, eyes on me, then takes both of my hands and pins them above my head. My legs get spread wider with one of his knees, his thigh muscles hard against my softness. The smooth, blunt tip of his huge cock presses against the opening of my pussy. Xavier stares into my eyes as he begins to push into me one inch at a time. “Don’t go slow,” I mouth silently.
He grimaces again and hisses, “Fuck,” as he plunges his entire length into me. My back arches with the surprising size. My walls are stretched to their delicious limit and it feels like heaven.
We meet each other’s eyes and I whisper, “I’m yours. Only yours. Take what you want. I know it’s just for this one night. But take it all. Everything my body has to give.”
With gritted teeth he starts moving, impaling my body again and again. His cock is so hard for me, so perfect. I love how much it fills me and how good he is at fucking me. His thighs move mine, his hips push my hips into the mattress, his fingers grip mine. The weight of him. The smell of this man. The taste, the goddamn taste of Xavier as he kisses me and groans into my mouth.
I will not cry! I will not cry!
The thrusts grow harder and more urgent, but never rapid. He works my pussy in so many ways, changing rhythm and pace like he knows me. “You’re mine,” he grunts quietly in my ear. I nod and reach for a kiss that he gladly gives me. My body starts to shake and I feel it about to happen. He feels the changes in my reactions and rises up to watch me cum harder than I ever have in my whole life. I push on his hands and he lets them go so I can grab the pillow and cover my face with it, muffling my cries of absolute pleasure.
He yanks the pillow off me, shakes his head, and tosses it aside, covering my mouth with his huge palm instead, never breaking his rhythm. “I have to see your face,” he whispers. The orgasm keeps shaking through me and I grip his hand with both of mine, and moan. He grinds into me and grunts silently, grimacing and sneering as he unloads all of his semen into my body, jerking and working me until there is nothing left. He collapses on top of me, still inside. Our fingers entwine and I kiss the muscles on his neck. He’s panting and so am I. It was amazing and it’s all I can do not to cry. It was just fucking. I felt this man in ways I never expected to. We made love. That’s what that was. And it’s something I’ve never done.
Glistening with tiny beads of sweat and still inside me, he rises up on his elbow and looks at me with a growing darkness in his eyes, like he didn’t want to do what he just did.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
Pulling out of me, Xavier walks away from the bed. He’s staring off like he’s miles away already. He looks like he wants to run. My heart is cracking open and he looks like he wants to run.
Shit, Emily…did you just make the biggest mistake of your life?
But I couldn’t have said no to what just happened even if I wanted to. Our chemistry is too strong. I needed him. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to fuck him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
He starts to put on his jeans. I slowly do the same. We both get dressed in silence and not until our bodies are covered does he look at me again.
Xavier
What the fuck is wrong with me? That was unexpectedly powerful. I feel jarred. Out of breath.
I shouldn’t have done this. It was wrong. So wrong. I tried to leave. But I couldn’t. I tried to walk out the door of this building, but then I found myself taking the stairs two at a time back to her. I know why I did it. I always follow my instincts and today they were to fuck Emily Foster until she was a whimpering mess in my arms. I didn’t expect her to be so delicious. So grateful. So eager to fuck me, too, that her body moved with mine like I was a composer and she, the magnificent orchestra. That was a masterpiece what we just did. It was the boring-ass Missionary position and yet it was the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life.
Because of her.
Her taste. Her scent. Her fucking mouth. Her hot, tight little pussy. Her energy. They way she moved my…soul.
FUCK. I have to get out of here.
Turning, I face her for the first time since I pulled out of her wet, tight, intoxicating little cunt. My cock is still hard as hell. Handing her a tissue, I watch as she stares at it, then looks up, tucking it into her panties. Her wet, white little panties that smelled better than a steak.
Emily zips her jeans back up and straightens out her shirt, staring at me and wondering what I’m thinking. I am sure of only one thing. I have to get the fuck out of her house. I pull her to me. A fire lights in her eyes as her pride sparks. Good, because I didn’t like the helpless and scared look she just had. “I’m sorry,” I rasp.
“I wanted it,” she whispers back on a resigned shrug. “Go. I can tell you want to.”
Her calling me out like that feels like shit. But it’s true. I have to get the fuck out of Emily Foster’s home. The bed she shared with her husband is right there in front of me and I was just…
“I don’t want to. I have to. You don’t know anything about me.”
“So tell me,” she whispers, emerald eyes determined. “Tell me about you.”
Yeah, right. I’m going to tell you that your kids are right. I’m a werewolf. One that I saved you from hell, but you won’t see it that way. You’ll see me as the man who murdered your husband and then fucked you in his bed.
I’m a piece of shit and she deserves better.
Pulling her close, I kiss her one last time with a longing I’ve never felt before. I release her and listen for the children outside the door to make sure it’s safe to go. Their steady breaths waft to my supernatural eardrums all the way from their room.
Slipping out of Emily’s room, she follows me, her footsteps much louder than mine. She’s pissed. I can understand that. But she’d be a lot more angry if she knew how much of an asshole I really am. At her front door, I look over my shoulder at her. The wall is up. Her arms are crossed, and yet behind those soulful green eyes I see how much she wishes I’d stay.
And still I can’t hear her fucking heartbeat. What the hell is up with this woman and me? Why can Draik hear it? This has never happened to me. I want to stay and figure it out.
Reaching out to her, she extends her hand. We touch. I bring her delicate fingers to my lips and kiss them one at a time. Releasing her soft hand for what I know is the last time, I turn and go.
Xavier
Chicago feels like there’s not enough oxygen left in it for me to breathe. Even with the windows rolled down on my Jeep, my lungs are left hungry and unsatisfied.
I completely forget how I must reek of sex, as I walk into the loft and see Draik and Curragh with guns spread out on the coffee table between them. War turns around at the kitchen sink. All three stare at me and Draik rises up on a
low and frustrated, “Fuuuuuhhhhhck.”
My mouth goes tight as sex becomes the only thing I can smell, too. Curragh leans back on the couch. He’s not going to tear me a new asshole. Drying his hands with a dishtowel, War walks over to get between Draik and me. But he’s not quick enough. And it wouldn’t matter anyway. Draik wants a piece of me and he’s going to get it.
“We’re preparing for Kruglov and you’re off fucking the widow.”
“As if you’ve never ditched us to get laid before,” I grate through gritted teeth, hating myself for calling it that. Laid is a ridiculous description of what Emily and I just did. Laid is what you do when you’re just getting off, and it wasn’t the strangest, hottest, more memorable fuck you’ve ever had.
Draik’s pale eyes narrow on me. “Really? I’ve lied to you about seeing old cop friends to get some clues as to what Chicago P.D. knows…find out where Kruglov might be? I’ve done that, have I?”
Inwardly I wince. I told them that load of horse-shit to clear out of here and stay gone for a few hours, without them being the wiser. What a crock. I haven’t kept in contact with any of my old cop buddies, because I only had one, a partner, but time does what it does to superficial friendships.
War says, “Just drop it, Draik,” in a somber tone.
“No!” he snarls over his shoulder, then focuses back on me. “You said to my face just last night...” His sentence hangs between us in the air, unfinished. My lie, with it.
“Because it’s none of your business who I fuck,” I growl. “You want a piece of me? You want to take out your frustration over the Russians on me, Draik? Let’s do it because I’ve got some frustrations of my own I’d like to work out. Ready?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he snarls as his eyes begin to glow. I follow his lead and my nails sharpen. I’ve been so on edge with this Emily thing that I would savor taking it out on him. Fuck him for running my life. His vendetta with Kruglov is getting in the way of…
“ENOUGH.” Curragh appears out of nowhere, hunched between us, his eyes brighter than light bulbs, too. Thrusting out both hands he shoves us so hard we are instantly distanced from each other by about twelve feet. We were about to shift so he went there, too, overpowering us solely with the element of surprise and a matching of our supernatural strength. Draik and I maintain our balance, landing like cats and ready to shift.
“I said ENOUGH!”
I straighten up first and crack my jaw loudly, glancing over to see War watching us with a grave expression, his arms crossed. It’s the first time he’s looked like a real man to me. The old Howard would have been worried for us, but this maturing wolf was going to let us go at it, if that’s what we needed to do. No matter how much he hated it.
Curragh grinds out through gritted teeth, “Go take a shower.”
Heading for the bathroom to do exactly that, I growl back, “Fuck you.”
I don’t see them all exchanging wary looks, but as I shut the door so violently that it nearly comes off the hinges, I hear War say to them, “Well, that was fun.”
Emily
After they woke up from their nap, all afternoon and night the kids wouldn’t shut up about Wolfman. It made me sad, amused, and then sad again.
He left like he regretted it. I saw it all over his face. It makes me feel terribly insecure and pissed off at the same time. I know I’ve been out of the loop for a while, but when we were together today I felt like something very real happened between us. It felt…
Oh hell, Emily, it was by far the strongest chemistry connection you’ve ever experienced. And now you’ll never see him again. And you shouldn’t. You don’t deserve to be played with like that. No matter how incredible he felt. He’ll just break your heart.
It’s all I could do to remember how to cook mac ‘n cheese. The kids must have said, “Mommy!” about a thousand times, calling me back to the present moment, repeating the questions they’d asked me. Where does Wolfman live? Is he going to come play with us tomorrow? Can I have more cheese?
And now that they’re tucked into their beds for the night I realize they never asked about their father today, or when he was coming home. In fact, I don’t remember the last time they did.
Slipping onto my chair by the window with a copy of “Tiny Beautiful Things” by Cheryl Strayed on my lap and a short glass of tequila by my side, I call my sister. I need some advice. Or just a friendly word. Or just to know that I’m not crazy. Any of these will do.
Marisol cries out, “You’re fucking kidding me!” laughing and shocked.
Not in the mood, I tell her very seriously. “Nope. Not kidding. I slept with him. Today.”
“Oh my God, Emily! There’s hope for you yet!”
“Mare, I slept with someone weeks after my husband was—”
“Your asshole of a husband, you mean. Just stop, Emmy. Just stop right now. You have put up with so much and it is your right to be happy. Do you hear me?” She waits for my answer, but I can’t speak. “Emmy, listen to me now.” Her voice becomes quiet and gentle. “You deserve to be happy. I love you, but our parents did a number on us and you don’t know that you can have a man who truly rocks your world in and out of the bedroom. There is nothing wrong with what you did. How was he?”
“Amazing,” I admit, remembering the way he kissed me. The way his hands pinned me down. The strength in his body and his spirit. Xavier exudes a quiet kind of power that I’ve never experienced in a man before. Sam’s abuse wasn’t ‘powerful.’ It was mean-spirited and came from a place of pain and insecurity. He didn’t know how to love. “This guy is different, Mare. He is so different. He’s a real man.”
She whoops on the other end of the line so loudly that her daughters instantly demand to know what she’s freaking out about. “What? I’ve been invisible to you two all day and now that I’m laughing at something you don’t know about, suddenly I’m interesting? Yeah. Walk away. That’s what I thought.”
Laughing quietly, I chide her, “Marisol, you’re such a bitch to them.”
“It’s the other way around. You don’t even know. Dread the teenage years — I’m telling you.” I hear shuffling and a door closing as she ‘locks’ herself into her room for privacy. She does this a lot when we’re on the phone. I miss her. She feels the same. It sucks that we’re so far away from each other. “So give me some details. I want to live vicariously through your sordid love life.”
“He left right afterward. Couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I think I was terrible in bed.”
Marisol is quiet for a second, then asks, “Did you cry?”
“What? No! I didn’t cry.”
“You cried.”
“No, Mare, I didn’t cry,” I insist, grabbing my tequila for a quick sip. But I wanted to cry and I almost did. “I would never cry. I was…well, I thought I was pretty enthusiastically involved.”
“You were what??! No no no. That’s the reason. You were too eager. Oh honey. You can’t show them you want them. Of course he ran.”
Staring out into the night, I feel dread’s heavy blanket wrapping around my shoulders. “Do you think I was too eager?”
At my tone, her approach changes. She’s not one to hurt me when I’m already hurting. We are a team, my sister and I. When I’m up, she’s up. When I’m down, she doesn’t kick me. “I wasn’t there, Emmy, but…if you were, it wouldn’t have been so surprising. I mean, you haven’t been with a good man since you met Sam.”
“Sam was good at first.”
Grumbling under her breath, she argues, “How you can defend him after how many times he sent you to the hospital?” We both sit in silence.
“What do I do?”
Her answer is quick and firm. “You pick yourself up and love this day for being what it was — a start to a new life. You broke the seal. You are free. You went with your feelings and did something wild. Wait. Where were Michael and Sofia during this?”
“Taking a nap,” I whisper, thumbing through my book even though t
he words are a blur to me.
“What?!!” she yelps, then whoops and hollers again. “You, my sister, are WILD! WILD, EMILY! FUCKING WILD!” Marisol’s voice changes as she calls out to her door, “Never mind what I’m going on about. Do your homework!” She comes back and whispers, “You naughty bird.”
“We were very quiet,” I smile, staring out the window into the darkness. The streetlamp across the street is out again. “I guess you’re right though.”
“About you being a naughty bird?”
“NO!” I say on a laugh, then add more quietly, “About this being a new start for me. It’s easier to deal with it if I think of it like that. It’s okay if I never see him again.”
Who am I kidding? Every part of me says that I am supposed to be with that man. That my life will be so much more full and exciting with him. I know that if he were to try and open his heart to us, me and the kids, that we could be so happy together. But how do you tame a man like that?
You don’t.
I’m screwed.
“So you’re okay, Emmy?”
No. Not at all okay. “This was a one-time fuck and that’s what I needed so I’m fine with that.”
Marisol challenges me, “You’re fine with that.”
“Totally.”
“You don’t want to see him again.”
“Not at all. He left like I had the plague. I’m telling you, I don’t want to see that asshole again.” Biggest lie I’ve ever told. Biggest lie ever. Seriously.
“Well good. Because men don’t like eager women.”
“Marisol!” I cry out, pained. “Don’t say that! If he thinks I’m eager I’ll never see him again!”
She laughs, “I knew you were lying.”
Werewolves of Chicago: Xavier Page 11
