“A knot—” he murmurs, “it’s for mating, a mating bond—it locks us together—fuck—Beast.” His words break off into a groan as my hand traces him. His fists clench into the couch cushion instead of touching me. “You don’t need to—fuck.” His voice cuts out completely when I lick him, pressing my tongue against his hairy sack.
“How about,” I let my breath hit his bare skin, “for right now, I am the boss. And I get to do whatever I want?”
He gives a low guttural groan that can only be a mangled agreement.
I grip a hand around him, exploring the shape of his hot length. He’s so thick that my fingers don’t even meet.
“I’m in charge,” I repeat, my grin growing as I enjoy the way that sounds.
“Whatever you want,” he croaks.
“What if I just teased you? Got your cock wet and walked away?”
He groans again, throwing his head back against the couch. “Whatever you want.” His voice is more pained this time. “You’re in control.”
I let go of him and climb to my feet. I consider, for a moment, abandoning him there. Just letting him be hard, and hungry, and full. A very small part of me relishes the idea of leaving him like this.
But a much larger part of me wants to fuck him.
I really want to feel that thick cock inside me. There’s something irresistible about him. His big, hairy body calls to me, and after the way he treated me last night, the way that he makes me feel tended to and cared for, I know this will feel good.
“You know what? This is perfect,” I decide out loud, “I always have an easier time coming on top.”
I meet his gaze, and his eyes widen. He gives me an eager nod, somehow knowing not to say anything.
I pull my dress up enough to slip a thigh onto either side of his thick legs, and slowly inch myself forward until I feel the thick shaft pressing against that spot it rested before, the barrier of my underwear keeping us apart. Fuck. He’s big.
I roll my hips, dragging my body across him, the hot friction spark across my clit until it pulls a sound from my throat. Even with a layer of fabric between us, I could probably come just from this, just rubbing along him, teasing that burning hot length that nestles so nicely against me.
I love having him beneath me, with his head rolled back and his eyes pressed shut. He’s huge, quivering, and completely at my mercy.
“Beast,” he groans again. His large hands rest on my hips, smoothing up my thighs to skate beneath my dress and caress my naked skin. Not urging me to move, just stroking, worshiping. Lighting little fires across my excited body. Tracing paths along my body like all he wants to do is touch me.
I place my hands on his bare chest, using him to support my weight as I reach down, move my underwear to one side, and slide forward until I feel his needy tip slip into place, notching against the wet part of me that is so hungry for him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want him so badly.
His eyes fly open, dark brown irises devouring me, deep enough that I could get lost in them. His breathing is ragged, although I’ve barely moved. His hands are still stroking me, caressing, and petting, like he knows exactly how to light up every nerve in my skin. My body clenches, needing more of him, demanding something to clamp around. I need something inside me.
I dig my fingers into his chest hair.
“Beast,” is all that he says, but somehow I feel the meaning behind the word. If we do this, I’m going to be lost to him for sure, I’m not going to do the smart thing and take his money and walk away. I’m going to stay and let everything get messy and hot and sexy. I’m going to be stupid the way that I always am. I’m going to fall for the guy that I know I shouldn’t fall for.
My thighs are trembling now. I sink an inch until his head is penetrating me. I gasp, and his fingers press deep into my thighs. Both of us are breathing hard now. I can feel wetness dripping out of me and down his length. How can I need him so badly? How is just the sight of him, the smell of him, this intoxicating?
I pull back up slowly, feeling the pop as he leaves me. The empty space in my body that needs him protests. He gasps beneath me, his hands going rigid against my thighs.
Then, with a deep resigned groan, I lower myself onto him again. Relishing the slow and aching stretch as I push myself further, and further, feeling the burn of him, the pressure of his size, the hot heat of his thickness. I bury my face into his neck, the musk caught in his fur sears my throat and catches the deep moan I release, as he fills every part of me. His hands are moving again, gently stroking and petting as he coos my name and whispers praises to me.
“Bailey. So good. My Beast. My mate. My good mate. My everything.” I don’t even know if he is saying full sentences. I’m too focused on the stretch of him, the fullness, and the tightness. The things that should be too much, but seems to fill me perfectly. Down and down, until I feel the threatening girth of his knot.
Fuck. I’m at my limit.
“I don’t know if I can take it,” I say against his neck.
“Don’t, precious Beast. Not now. We have time for that later.” He’s whispering soothing words into my ear in his deep voice. It should be calming me down, but the sound only makes my pussy tighten around him.
Fuck. This isn’t what this was supposed to be. This was supposed to be an easy orgasm, a quick couch fuck with all my clothes still on. Not this full body invasion, a complete overwhelming of my senses. I hear a soft whine come from my own throat as his hands keep moving across me, stroking along my thighs.
I rock against him, the pressure of my clit against his knot sends a fever through my body. The fullness of him quivering inside me, hitting every point, sends sparks all the way to the base of my skull. I grind against him slowly, letting the gentle pressure build and build. His hands, his cock, and his words apply themselves in tandem, until I am overwhelmed, and I tumble into ecstasy, my pussy clenching and milking him. A lightness rolls through my limbs that is so intense and lasts so long that I feel like I’m torn in two. I’m not sure if it is one long orgasm, or several, coming shockingly close together. He strokes my thighs, continuing to whisper deep, passionate words against my ear.
