She couldn't say anything in response. She could only shriek as an orgasm ripped her straight down the middle, making her tremble and sob. She couldn't catch her breath, he wouldn't let her. He just pushed harder, and when she felt his hand moving between them, felt his fingers pinching sensitive wet flesh, she honestly thought she might die. The orgasm swelled again, becoming a tsunami. A force of destruction, threatening to wreck them both.
It was Wulf's turn to be strong, to stand against the wave. He laid down flat, crushing her as he forced his tongue into her mouth. The action distracted her from impending death, and while she tried to remember what planet she was on, he thrust so hard, he broke every last boundary she could've possibly had – cleared a path straight to her soul. While he came inside her, his teeth bit into her bottom lip, most definitely leaving a mark.
It took a while for both of them to calm down. Multiple orgasms were not only real, she'd just discovered, but they were at once the most awesome and most terrifying thing she'd ever experienced. She pressed a hand over her eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning.
Wulf laid still, but continued to twitch inside of her for a while. Even as his body relaxed, his hips continued to very slightly pump against her, slowly and languorously.
She wasn't sure how long they laid like that together, and even less sure of when she'd started crying. She could feel the tears under her fingertips and she tried to keep her breathing even, not wanting to scare him away from such a big moment.
“Hey,” he said, finally lifting himself up. “Hey, stop it.”
“No, it's not bad,” she assured him, her voice watery. “I'm not upset.”
“No, I meant stop hiding from me.”
He pulled her hand away from her face and stared down at her. She blinked up at him, her vision blurry.
“I'm not hiding, I'm just ...” she started. He gave her a sad smile and traced a thumb under her eye, wiping away the tears that had collected there.
“It's okay. I know.”
“I'm happy.”
24
Katya had lied. Only a little, but still.
She'd said she trusted Wulf, but she didn't fully – only about ninety-nine percent. The other one percent had her afraid to go to sleep. Afraid that when she woke up in the morning, the magic would be gone and the old-Wulf and the old-Katya would be back. Those two people wouldn't get along. They wouldn't be able to laugh and love each other and have mad passionate sex. She would hate for that to happen.
I'm afraid none of it was real, that he didn't mean any of it.
When she opened her eyes, it was to bright morning sunlight outside the windows. She blinked a couple times, half asleep yet still in awe of the view. Then she took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder.
The bed was empty.
A huge digital clock on the wall read nine o'clock. Hadn't he mentioned having an early morning meeting? She curled up into a tighter ball, trying to hold herself together. He hadn't even woken her up to say goodbye. Maybe it hadn't been real, after all.
Before she could work herself up into a proper fit, though, the bedroom door creaked open from behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to feign sleep and hoping the maid or whoever would just go away.
When the mattress dipped down, though, Katya couldn't stay still. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, wondering what the hell kind of cleaning lady tried to make a bed with a person in it. It wasn't a maid, it turned out. Wulfric was crawling up the mattress.
“I made coffee,” he said in a low voice before rolling onto his back. He was wearing a loose pair of black pajama bottoms and nothing else. His hair was total bed-head, and he hadn't shaved. He clearly hadn't left the apartment at all.
“I thought … you said you had a meeting. I thought you had to leave,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. She was still sitting up, so all she could see of him was from the waist down. But she felt him move and his hand came to rest on her bare back.
“I don't have to go anywhere.”
“But you said -”
“This is more important, Tocci.”
Katya laid back down, as well. She stared at the ceiling while Wulf folded his arms across his face, covering his eyes. They stayed silent for a really long time. Long enough that she felt like she might scream, just to fill the void.
“Why do you call me that?” she burst out.
“Call you what?”
“Tocci. You mostly call me by my last name. I always wondered why.”
There was a long pause, and when she glanced at him, she could see a sly little smile playing across his lips.
“I came home during spring break,” he started, clearing his throat. “I was twenty-two? Twenty-three? I was in graduate school. My mom asked me to pick up Vieve at her soccer camp. You were there, and I'd never paid much attention to you, but I was waiting by the fence, and I kept hearing this guy screaming at you. 'Raise those knees, Tocci!', 'pass the ball, Tocci!', 'get your head out of your ass, Tocci!', over and over. And there you were, all gangly and awkward, running around in a jersey with TOCCI in big letters across the back. Then when I saw you again, in that bakery, 'go out with me, Tocci' was the first thing that came to my mind.”
Katya started laughing.
“That's actually kinda amazing.”
“Yup. My neighbor, the shitty soccer player, Katya Tocci.”
“I wasn't shitty – I was actually pretty good. I was probably just having a bad day.”
“If you say so.”
“Wulfric,” she sighed his name. His arms moved, and when he went to rest them at his sides, he covered her hand with his own. Squeezed her fingers.
“My mother named me after a romance novel,” he said in a quiet voice. Katya glanced over at him, but he was staring up at the ceiling. “If you knew her, it would make sense. I think she was kinda … swept away by my dad. She thought she was in a romance story. Genevieve and Brighton, well, I think she was just trying to stick with the theme. It wasn't easy growing up. Do you have any idea what it's like having a name that sounds like wolf?”
“I think it suits you.”
“You would.”
“I like it. I always liked it.”
“Hmmm.”
“My mom told me that your parents' divorce, it wasn't a good one,” she said, still staring at him. He smirked at the ceiling.
“Is any divorce a good one?”
“Some people can end amicably. Not all of us want to end up screaming in a reception hall, flinging cake and insults.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Wulf whispered. She squeezed his fingers harder.
“Sorry. I was trying to be funny.”
“Try being the operative word. The things my dad did to my mom. The way he would talk to her. Did your mother tell you how it ended?”
“No, not exactly. Just that it was messy.”