The Wolfing Way (Lifting the Veil) Page 8

  “NO.” KRIS cut Rafe off with a determination his sleepy brain was finally catching up with. He wanted this—this simple, special fraction of an eternity with his mate.

  In the beginning, Kris had had an image of rutting wild animals in heat unable to control their primal urges, hell-bent on ravaging their defiant, reluctant mates. But Rafe was anything but. He simply didn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and Kris was confident that he would never hurt him in any way. Rafe would sooner hurt himself than someone he loved.

  And from the way Rafe’s hazel eyes glimmered in the darkness of the room, the way his hand caressed Kris’s cheek, the way fear of loss made his actions tender and cautious—from all that Kris knew Rafe loved him. More than loved him—Rafe was in love with Kris, and Kris had to admit to himself he was headed in that direction too. It was too late to deny it. In the span of a day, Rafe had won Kris’s heart—and despite all the bad stuff that had transpired today, Kris was certain that nature, or the gods, or the spirits, none of them had done them wrong or wished them ill will with their choice of the pairing. Kris belonged to Rafe, and Rafe belonged to Kris.

  Predestined fates might have been the stuff of nightmares for Kris, but Rafe and this situation was the realization of happy dreams and fulfilled fantasies. It was all laid out there before him, ready for the taking. All Kris had to do was to grab it and hold on tight.

  And that was precisely what he set out to do.

  Seduction scene set, Kris thought and smiled.

  There was a hesitant flicker in Rafe’s eyes when he observed the smile Kris was sporting, and it only made his smile broaden. Reaching up again, winding his hands around Rafe’s neck, Kris pulled his mate down and conquered his lips again. The taste of blood was there on Rafe’s tongue—transferred from his mouth to his mate’s during their kiss, the lingering flavor of the proof of Rafe’s heroic deed—but Kris ignored the implications of it, savoring the unique masculine taste of his mate instead.

  The tentative kissing from their first time was gone, and a hasty intensity burned within them both. What had been unfamiliar ground then gave way to the needy exploration and learning curve that resulted in a furious tidal wave of passion washing over them, the heat exploding in tiny bursts inside every pore, every muscle, every nerve, and every inch of skin within and without. Words and speech became redundant, and the only form of communication left was that of touch, and closeness, and breath, and kiss.

  Rafe slid nearer until his strong body covered Kris’s smaller frame, but he held himself above Kris with his hands pressed on the mattress by Kris’s flanks so that his whole weight didn’t land on him—even though Kris slid his hands to Rafe’s sturdy, muscular back and tried to pull him down. Rafe resisted the effort, and Kris had no chance in succeeding as long as his mate insisted on doing so.

  Parting for just an instant, Kris huffed into his mate’s mouth, “Please, Rafe. Don’t hold back.”

  Unexpectedly, that just made Rafe pull back entirely—and shift onto his back on the bed, dragging and lifting Kris on top of him. Speechless and humbled, Kris was truly surprised at Rafe for letting him take the lead in their sexual encounter. But the rational part of him that was still firing on all cylinders knew it was just another way for Rafe to give Kris control over the situation, and by association, everything else too. Rafe was purposely handing the reins to Kris—who wanted to be claimed by his mate but apparently wasn’t going to get that.

  “How do you want me?” Rafe whispered into Kris’s hair, kissing his temple softly, as though Kris were something fragile, as if he were made of shattering glass.

  The question ignited Kris’s anger and frustration. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of the many fears dwelling within his mate—but Kris didn’t seek a leading position among them. “What I want?” Kris lowered himself on top of Rafe in full-body contact, skin on skin, chest to chest, groin against groin. “I want your need to overwhelm my own. I want you to claim me as your mate just like you described and promised. I want you to fill the hollow emptiness within me I hadn’t even realized was there. I want you to love me—because I know you do. Just like I’m falling in love with you. That is what I want, Rafe.”

  Strong bones flinched, and hard muscles rippled beneath him as Rafe processed Kris’s words in a reaction that became a complete body experience. Kris observed his mate sort of holding his breath, as if he was about to erupt all that he was holding at bay at any given moment. He was holding back so much; that Kris could tell without even trying.

  Suddenly Rafe closed his eyes so tight it was like he didn’t want to see anything anymore, and let out a suffering sigh. That frightened Kris, and he kissed his mate tenderly on his thin lips that certainly instinctively knew what to do and how to respond. God, the man sure knew how to kiss, Kris mused with his last logical thought as his mate took him to the edge of sensual delight by wrapping his arms around him in a breathtaking grip.

  Finally catching up with what Kris was asking for, Rafe tilted them together to their sides and more until Kris lay beneath Rafe. Letting his legs spread open in an inviting gesture, Kris arched upward to keep their body connection skintight, and Rafe at last pressed the whole bulk of his over-two-hundred-pound manliness on his mate until Kris felt like he was really being possessed by him. And Rafe’s demanding kiss deepening only accented the momentous need swelling within both of them.

  Metaphorical swelling aside, Kris entwined his mate’s body with his long sinewy legs, like a vine around a tree trunk, and their hot, hard cocks aligned and ground together in a smooth, slick slide, so slow it was exquisite torment to feel one so close, almost attempting to gain entry into the other beyond skin, flesh, and bone to reach into his heart and soul. Kris would’ve been content to carry on rocking like this with his mate, rubbing and grinding against his mate’s arousal, made manifest in an enormous erection, but Rafe took the lead soon enough, digging into the drawer of the nightstand for lube.

  But not for one second did Rafe break off his never-ending lip-lock with Kris, who shivered from his twitching toes to his buzzing head, hungry for every taste of his mate. Never had Kris felt such an overwhelming need to be claimed, conquered, and owned till his last breath. One thing he was certain about: he wanted Rafe to be the one to take him, because he would never hurt Kris—only love him unceasingly.

  Hearing the unattractive squirt of the creamy lube—the scent of cherry filling the air—Kris shuddered, and Rafe slipped his slick fingers past his painfully erect cock and his achingly tight balls to probe, caress, and slide across his crease to tease his puckered hole beyond, already winking in anticipation of taking in the huge uncut cock poking his thigh. Sighing with a nerve-racking vibration, Kris let the massaging finger play with him, Rafe teasing with his tongue in the same twisting way in his mouth till he was moaning into the kiss, breathless and heady.

  “I’m going to take you until you scream, honey,” Rafe murmured into the kiss, positioning himself lower between Kris’s legs, lifting his hips with his non-questing hand, and placing a firm pillow under his hips and lower back.

  Kris whimpered when his mate’s stroking finger pierced his tight ring of muscle, falling head over heels in lust, and surrendering to wanton need racking his body all over. Not inexperienced in the ways of the world or men or sex, Kris still wised up to the enlightenment of being at the fork of the road of his life, and perceiving distinctly the direction he was headed—with Rafe at his side. Yes, somehow they’d find their harmonious coexistence and would learn to live together in sync with each other’s habits, both the endearing and the annoying kind.

  Two fingers explored inside him now, and Kris thought his feverish head might actually explode with all the sensation flooding him and drowning him in a sea of flames. And then Rafe brushed against the spongy bump of his sweet spot, and Kris groaned, his hips jumping off the mattress in an instinctive debauched reaction.

  “That’s right, honey,” Rafe cooed wickedly in between kisses. “
Come to me. Let go. I’ll catch you.”

  Rafe slipped a third finger into Kris’s tight channel, opening and stretching him for his mate and the inevitable fulfillment of their seductive, sensuous confluence. Suddenly releasing Kris’s lips, Rafe licked his way down with a single wet line to Kris’s groin, flicking the tip of his tongue quickly over the silky-smooth, smoldering-hot crown of Kris’s dick that jumped at the brief contact, leaking milky drops of precum, and Kris moaned louder. Devoted to Kris’s dick with a hungry mouth, Rafe made a fierce foray over Kris’s shaft, suckling the length and tonguing the slit mercilessly until all that was left of Kris’s overactive brain evaporated in fumes, not knowing if he’d ever recover from this onslaught to his body’s nether regions and this attack on his senses and nerves until they overloaded and short-circuited.

  “Jesus, Rafe…,” Kris moaned, his whisper as breathless and shaky as his body. Not having expected this kind of animalistic invasion of getting his shaft sucked like there was no tomorrow, he understood that he wasn’t merely being tended to by a lover—he was being devoured by a beast. And he ate the attentiveness up.

  Within his mind, filled with blood red sexual imagery, Kris wanted and needed to feel joined with his mate through the act of sex until there wasn’t a single doubt in him about the two of them belonging together—while both still retained their true selves without either giving up too much of themselves or sacrificing their dreams in favor of their combined dream.

  As if reading his mind, Rafe knelt up, hovering above Kris with a wolfish grin and licking his moist lips in a lascivious manner that almost drove Kris over the edge of pleasure to his release. Rafe grabbed the base of Kris’s cock, dark pink in its long, slender cut shape, holding back his imminent eruption, for which Kris was infinitely grateful.

  “No coming yet, honey,” Rafe murmured, obviously pleased with Kris’s reactions.

  Cupping Kris’s ass cheeks, Rafe lifted his lithe mate’s hips into his lap, pointing his rock-hard and dark-hued cock, uncut and thick and dripping creamy precum, against the pink hole waiting for him. Sliding his lubed-up cock into Kris, Rafe let out an animal growl, so deep, honest, and profound that it sent shivers down Kris’s spine. It aroused him to know he was the one creating and provoking this flame of desire in this gorgeous man.

  Milking the cock pushing into him incrementally, Kris wrapped his legs around Rafe’s waist and crossed his ankles for leverage. Rafe kept his hold of Kris’s hips, kneading his ass cheeks with the same pace he was thrusting into his mate, soothing and slow until he was in balls-deep. There was no anxiety or resistance from Kris, and he succumbed to the pleasure his mate was producing, being joined at the hip with him.

  What surprised Kris the most, however, was the awareness that Rafe may have been inside him all the way, his massive cock filling his channel to the brim, but Kris was still himself—still all him, still whole, and still aware of who he was. Their powerful bond transcended the physical, filling an emptiness within Kris. He knew that it was the longing of love—to love and be loved. Kris may have acquiesced to his mate’s sex, but he had not lost touch with himself. He hadn’t lost anything—but gained everything.

  “Oh, Rafe, please,” Kris whimpered in a frenzy as Rafe picked up the pace, pounding into him instead of merely thrusting to widen his hole and stretch his channel for deeper penetration and rougher entry. Grabbing the undersides of Kris’s knees, Rafe yanked his mate closer, holding his thighs firmly—and his dick thrust in deeper and harder as a result. Briefly Kris felt sharp claws sinking into the flesh of his thighs, but either they disappeared, retracted, or he’d imagined them—or the pain had turned into pleasure, just as Rafe had promised. Yes, Rafe had hinted there might be claws and fangs, but so far all of it had been gentle and loving for Kris.

  They fell into a rhythm between Rafe’s push in and Kris’s push back until they were both panting and gasping with the sensual exertion of meeting each other in the most intimate way. Soon the tempo became scorching and frenzied, broken by the need to find release as it overcame their smooth mutual cadence. Rafe’s cock was pulsating and vibrating inside Kris’s rippling and undulating channel, grappling the invading, swiveling member with a ferocious, primal hold.

  A trembling tortured moan escaped the confines of Kris’s throat. “Rafe, please….” Unable to stifle the begging tone, Kris writhed beneath Rafe, who leaned his whole body over him to capture his mouth with a voracious hunger, like a starving man devouring a piece of meat. As Rafe pinned his mate to the mattress, swiveling his hips as he thrust, Kris’s snug ass swallowed Rafe’s smoldering-hot cock with equal hunger. Kris’s own cock was nestled and sandwiched between their bodies pressed together in delicious pressure, and he was on the edge of release.

  Having passed beyond the point where self-control even existed anymore, their rhythm became torn, shuddering, and erratic as neither was able to consciously master the motions their bodies made in unison to reach the peaks of pleasure. The involuntary actions forced their bodies to respond to the friction, the pressure, and the need until all that was left of them was the physical demanding their undivided attention.

  Crying out into Rafe’s kissing mouth, Kris came, and his dick leaped as the orgasm of a lifetime ripped through him, from the tightening balls to the throbbing cock, and from within his thermal groin to the outside of his prickling skin. No part of him was left untouched by his climax, which hadn’t required anything but the weight of his mate on top of him.

  As his tight, hot enclosure clenched around Rafe’s still-ramming cock, Kris’s hole fluttered at the continued rocking motion within him even as the at-first numbing sensations morphed into a deep relaxation that opened him up wide. And all the while, Rafe kept moving in and out, as if his life depended on it. Kris felt the soreness as his mate kept slamming into him with a savage determination, but he didn’t care so long as his mate was joined with him in this primitive manner that left nothing of their emotions and sensations hidden.

  Finally, Rafe’s body stiffened, suspended at the plunge into the blissful abyss of climax, and his whole body stood rigid, except for his face that went lax as Kris felt the hot splash of his mate’s spunk fill him inside. A lycan could not have contracted an STD, so Kris got his first—but certainly not his last—experience with riding bareback. And fuck, it was awesome, he relished in the grips of the heated wet sensations within.

  A limp heap of torso and limbs landed on top of Kris all hot and sweaty, and he loved it. Gathering Kris into his quivering arms and nuzzling into his neck, Rafe growled again—and then Kris shouted, muffled, when fierce fangs pierced the skin of his neck deep into the flesh beneath, and the smell of blood hung heavy and thick in the air again. It was a tearing, shearing kind of pain that caused his body to shake uncontrollably, and faintly he tried to fight back, struggling with his exhausted limbs, flailing around—and failing. Rafe was too strong and too heavy.

  And just as suddenly, the pain disappeared—and a pleasure so thorough and ecstatic it was a kind of physical, emotional, and spiritual rapture all in one took hold of Kris, ravishing him within an inch of his life. His euphoric body clung to Rafe as though his mate was a life preserver and Kris was drowning in the tide pulling him down under.

  With a roar, Rafe released him, bellowing akin to wild beasts, and Kris shivered, in his weakened condition unable to lift a finger or to move a toe. Boneless, sated, and floating, Kris felt his head swirling with the pleasurable waves that sex with his mate had created. Panting helplessly, Kris closed his eyes and just let the sensations wash over him.

  He didn’t even notice he was falling asleep.

  RAFE, however, observed his mate nodding off peacefully, like a child after an exciting game. Flopping onto his side and then onto his back, he regained his balanced breathing—but his head returned from the wonderful sexual experience, too, to clobber him with the knowledge of what he had to do to keep his mate safe.

  Covering his face and eyes with his hands
, Rafe silently sobbed, feeling more alone than he ever had in his entire life. No one else could solve this problem but him—and the solution would kill him inside.

  The survival-fitted part of him spoke rationally to tell him that he could still have sex with any man he wanted—just not his mate. He was a man, after all. He’d be able to forget his heart in favor of the primal urges of his cock, and he didn’t have to resort to celibacy to forget Kris during the split second of orgasm with another man. One sexy and gorgeous male body was just like another, right? Men weren’t built for monogamy, his reasonable side reminded him assertively, and he forced himself to listen. Sure, you’ll miss Kris, but you’ll get over it in the arms of another tight hot bod.

  Getting out of bed slowly and quietly, sparing a glance at Kris sprawled out spread-eagle in his bed, the sheets in a bundle around him, Rafe made his way to the windowed corner where his altar of meditation was. Not daring to light the candles or incense, he knelt on the pillow and began his breathing exercises, banishing any and all thoughts of his lover and companion left alone in the bed behind him.

  Inhales and exhales followed each other, from deep in his belly, filling and emptying his lungs, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Again and again Rafe repeated the procedure, silencing the raging current of images of Kris bleeding, beaten, and dying in his arms. It took all the decades of training for him to focus on the simple bodily function of breathing that normally came so easily to him. Tonight there was no rest for him—no respite for his feverishly frightened mind or for his exhausted physical self that was already aching with the foreknowledge of sacrificing his future happiness with his mate for his mate’s future safety.