His dress shirt was shoved away from her shoulders, fluttering to the ground without another thought. Between kisses, she tugged and pulled at his undershirt. He lifted his arms and she was finally able to yank it free from his body.
While they were still locked at the mouth, he wrapped an arm around her waist and twisted to the side, forcing her to lay down. He hovered, keeping his weight off her while his tongue dove into her mouth, over and over again.
When he pulled away, she tried to follow him, but he pressed a hand to her sternum while he licked a path down her cleavage. Kissed his way across her stomach, nibbled on her hip bone. Her legs were already parted for him and when he reached their center, he paid no attention to her panties. She gasped as she felt his tongue through the fabric, moaned at the friction meeting wetness.
She could never imagine doing something so intimate with anyone else, ever again. He was the only one she trusted to take care of her needs, to do it oh so perfectly, without her having to say a word. She moaned and arched her back, thrusting a hand into his thick hair.
She was panting and desperate when he pulled away to suck at the inside of her thigh. She groaned and reached for him, but he was gone. She writhed around on the couch, trying to find him, needing his touch.
He didn't deny her for long. She felt his hands gripping her knees, and she was startled as she was dragged down the length of the sofa. He was back between her legs and without question, she locked them around him. His hands had a desperation to them she'd never felt before, as they prodded and pawed at her. Yanked her up into a sitting position, then hoisted her into his arms.
He carried her into his bedroom, kicking the door open with enough force it bounced off the wall behind it, leaving a crater in the sheet rock. He didn't seem to care – he was too busy pulling her bra apart and flinging it across the room.
She was laid out after that, her underwear stripped away. Before she'd even sat up, he was stepping out of his pants and covering her with his body.
They rolled around for a bit, making the room almost humid with how hot they were getting, with how heavy they were breathing. Everything became damp, her fingers skating around on his sweat soaked skin, her tongue sliding along his slick lips.
“On top,” he panted when she wrapped her fingers around the base of his dick. He didn't wait for an answer, he rolled them again so she was astride him, straddling his hips. He put his arms behind him, propping himself upright. “I want to see you. I want you to look at me.”
“You see me,” she whispered back, working her hand up and down his shaft a couple times before shifting over him.
She stared him straight in the eye the whole time she was sliding down his length. Kept staring as she let her mouth drop open so she could moan at the intrusion. At the effort it took for her not to shake. Not to cry.
She sat for a long moment, adjusting to his size. He had his forehead to her clavicle and was breathing heavy. Then she worked her hips back and forth once, and they both moaned. He fell back onto the mattress as she set up a rhythm, one of his hands cupping her breast while the other squeezed her thigh, urging her faster.
She didn't want to even be that far away from him. She fell forward, her auburn locks becoming a curtain around them as she kissed him. Both his hands speared into her hair, holding her in place while his own hips started moving. Pumping back against her. She rotated her hips, he thrust forward. Rotate, thrust. She felt like she was going to take off, shoot forward, blast off. Like they were going to break the sound barrier.
She didn't want to ever stop kissing him – it was always a unique experience with Wulf, but when he was wild and unhinged, it was something else entirely. But if she didn't get some oxygen, she was going to pass out, and she couldn't allow herself to miss a single moment of that night. She sat upright, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He followed suit, propping an arm behind himself. He leaned into her chest, laving his tongue across a nipple.
“Wulf, I can't ...” she couldn't even think, not one little bit. “I can't … please ...”
He didn't say a word, just grabbed her hips and pushed her onto her back. He was so fast, he followed in time, not breaking their connection. He kissed her once, then jerked her roughly across the mattress. She was still shoving the comforter away from her face when he thrust his whole length into her again. She shrieked, then raked her nails down his chest.
“No one has ever been as good as this,” he started panting over her. “Only you. So goddamn good to me.”
“You deserve it,” she moaned. He chuckled and bent forward, clamping his teeth around a nipple. She let out another cry.
“You don't know what you're doing, Katya. You don't even know who you're dealing with,” he said when he backed away.
“I know exactly who I'm dealing with.”
He wasn't paying attention to her words, though. He grabbed her left leg and shoved it higher, letting it fall over his arm. The back of her thigh rested against his bicep, the two slipping and sliding against each other. His hand briefly smoothed over her ass, then moved onto her breasts, squeezing and pinching. Her breath started to hitch.
“I want to see this every single night,” he said in a low voice, looking between their bodies so he could watch himself thrust in and out of her.
“Yes, please, every night. Please,” she agreed, clinging to his shoulders as her whole body started to tremble.
“I want to make you wet and make you come and know I'm the only one who is allowed to do that to you,” he continued.
“Only you, I promise,” she assured him, her hips starting to move erratically against him. Something big was building in her core. Something explosive and dangerous. She would be obliterated by their time together, she was sure.
“I want you to live with me,” he kept going. “I fucking hate it here. I want your presence everywhere, I want you to make it feel like home. I want you to be my home.”
“Anything. I'll do anything you want.”
His thrusts were brutal at that point, and she couldn't tell if she was feeling blinding pleasure, or stinging pain. Whatever it was, she wanted to feel it all the time. He was pushing with enough force that he was driving her across the mattress. Her head finally fell over the side.
“I want you to love me,” he whispered.
Too late.