Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

“Say it,” he said hotly, pressing his forehead to mine, circling his hips again and again. “You say it, Ox.”

It was fucked up. It really was. Because I knew what he wanted, what it meant to the wolf, and it was possessive and not who I was. I wasn’t a thing.

But goddamn, did that do more for me than anything else.

There was the Alpha part of me that gnashed its teeth at the thought.

But there was the even bigger part, the part that was all Ox, that said, yes yes yes.

“Say it,” the wolf said near my ear.

“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “Yours, Joe. I’m yours.”

He shook above me, inhaling sharply like he was surprised, like he didn’t expect me to agree with him, to do what he said. I didn’t know how deep his insecurities ran or how far his instincts were taking him, but he hadn’t expected it.

It was the start, I thought. For the both of us.

Because even though he was still clumsy, even though he didn’t know what to do, he sat up and straddled my waist, legs bent on either side of me. He rolled his hips again as he took his shirt by the hem and pulled it up and over his head, revealing that wide chest of his, the sparse hair, the cut of his stomach. He tossed the shirt to the floor and leaned back on his hands as I traced along his stomach up to his chest. His nipples were dusky, little whorls of hair around them. I took one between my fingers and gave it sharp twist, watching his stomach clench, mouth falling open.

And because I could, I rose up, wrapping my arms around his back, holding him close to me, licking where my fingers had been. His nipple hardened under my tongue, and I scraped my teeth against him just to feel him tremble.

His dick was pressing against my stomach through denim, but I wasn’t ready for it yet. He leaned over behind me as I worried his flesh with my teeth, pulling at my work shirt until he got it and the tank top I wore underneath up to my shoulders. I leaned slightly to let him pull them off. I didn’t see where it went because there was so much skin pressed against mine. He burned hot, almost feverish, as he tilted my head back and kissed me again, sloppy and wet. He tasted like I thought he would, clean and powerful. He gripped the sides of my face with his hands as I dropped my own down to cup his ass, squeezing to pull him against me even more.

He muttered my name against my lips before I tilted my head back again. His teeth found the skin near my throat and began sucking a mark. Something in me shifted, growling at the idea of him marking me, trying to get him to suck harder, to use more teeth. I wanted it there for everyone to see, so no one would make a mistake as to who put it there. These weren’t thoughts I’d ever had with anyone else, but then I’d never been with someone like him.

I reached between us as he continued marking me, trying to grab the front of his jeans. I missed the fly and my knuckles dragged against the hard outline of his cock. It was an accident, but I did it again when he whined against my neck. I pressed harder, with purpose. He rutted against me as I did my best to grip him, but the denim was too soft between my fingers, the friction too light.

I reached up and pushed against his chest, leaning him back again. His eyes were red and heavy-lidded as he looked down between us, slack-jawed. His lips were swollen and slick and I had the savage thought that I’d done that. I’d made him look that way.

I flipped the button of his jeans with a practiced twist of my wrist, something that caused him to growl. I ignored him. He didn’t need to be upset with my experience, especially since he was going to benefit from it.

“Jesus,” I muttered. “What is with you and not wearing underwear?”

He grinned sharply down at me. “I had hopes.”

I snorted and trailed my fingers along the base of his cock, his wiry pubic hair scratching against the back of my hand. His breath caught in his chest and I was almost struck dumb at the fact that I was teasing him, that he was here, that we were together, and I was teasing him. The thought that I was the only one that had done this to him (and I was certain of that now) only made me feel more powerful. That I was the only one who’d seen him like this.

(And the only one who will get to, a little voice whispered in my head, but I pushed that away because it was too much, too much for me to even think about, even though the lizard part of my brain said yes and yes and yes.)

I pulled his dick out of his jeans, careful of the zipper. He was uncut and half-hard, his dick slimmer than mine and maybe a little longer. The weight of it in my hand short-circuited my brain a bit. Wolves burn warm, and it felt hot in my hands. I gripped it, squeezing as carefully as I dared, watching the foreskin slide as he grunted and thrust into my hand.

“Ox,” he said, sounding brea

thless and strangled.

“I know,” I said gently as I tightened my grip on him.

“You gotta—”

“I know.”

“Do something!”

I let go of his cock and he exhaled heavily, like he’d been punched in the stomach. Before he could protest, I raised my hand toward his face and said, “Lick.”

He didn’t even question it. He grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth, tongue rasping over my palm, up between my fingers, before sucking two of them into his mouth, getting them spit-slick and wet. I ground my teeth together to keep from shoving him back and taking what I wanted right then and there. This wasn’t about me, though. Not yet. I needed to make this good for him.

I pulled my hand away, and he whimpered, reaching up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you—”