His eyes squeeze shut, and his jawbones… At first, I think that he’s clenching his jaw, but I quickly realize that he’s struggling not to shift. Fur starts peppering his face as his bones alter, lengthening then shrinking.
“Lucan?” I ask hesitantly.
“I’m… here,” he pants, his gaze flickering to mine, showing me that his eyes have gone just a bit wild, as in the arooo! arrrooo! way.
I study his face, before my gaze dips to his raging erection. “Um, want me to keep touching you, or stop?”
His cock jumps. He jerks his head to the side, teeth bared—and now he has fangs. “Please don’t stop.”
“I don’t want to put more pressure on you, but if you turn into a wolf, this show is over.”
He nods. “I’m super excited for you. Nervous too. Never been this much of both at once before,” he admits.
“Okay,” I tell him, charmed. “I get that.” I like that. If possible, I’m getting more turned on than before. Ever so sweetly, I drag my fingernails down the flickering skin of his taut belly. Hard edges of muscle meet my hand, exciting me enough to sit up and lean in to lick his delicious abdominal slabs.
Lucan groans.
His penis is large, thick like the rest of him, curved slightly, with a vein that throbs so hard and so attractively it deserves its own Instagram account. His shaft matches his body color until his glans, which is cherry red, worthy to star in XXX films, and possesses a deeply flared corona. It’s much more pronounced than I’m used to, and my insides flutter as I imagine how he’ll feel inside me. Just thinking about it has me exhaling shakily, right over his crown.
The musky scent of his interest intensifies, and a fat bead of precum wells up from the eye, shining brightly.
My sex blazes with arousal. “Can I touch you?” I ask, breathless.
His eyes squeeze shut and his head jerks up and down once. Certain. He still can’t look at me, either too close to coming to risk it or too submissive, but that’s fine.
Wrapping four fingers around his shaft—and rolling my lips over my teeth, sucking in a breath through my nose when I can’t get my thumb and index finger to meet—I greedily take his length in my hand. Because he can’t avidly watch me, I’m able to peruse him without quite as many nerves plaguing me as I think I’d otherwise have. “I want this inside me so bad,” I tell him.
His head drops back, and he groans like I’m torturing him.
He isn’t telling me to stop though.
I keep my hand wrapped around him, my fingers gently gripping the satin-wrapped steel of him. His skin slides as I pump him, and he lengthens before my eyes. He’s so hard, he has to be hurting. I tear my eyes away to glance at the nightstand next to the bed. “Condom,” I say.
Lucan goes dead still.
The room is suddenly filled with the you could hear a pin drop quality of silence.
I blink in disbelief. I keep my voice light and neutral as my hand stays wrapped around his overheated flesh. “You don’t stock condoms.”
“No,” he says hoarsely.
I wince. Having had myself tested after the very last time I had sex with Julién, I know I’m clear of STDs, and I’m 99.9% sure Lucan is clean—but that doesn’t mean we’re good to go. I’m not on birth control.
“We don’t have to have sex,” Lucan says, and I’m surprised when he manages to meet my gaze.
His gentle eyes are so sincere.
My gut check does a rapid calculation that I’m not proud of: I don’t care about consequences—I WANT LUCAN NOW!
I lick my lips. “We’ll have you pull out.” I give him a little squeeze right behind his glans to help him keep control. The edge of his flared head fits hotly over my thumb and forefinger.
Lucan makes a low, masculine moan that’s somehow music to my ears.
But he gasps, “I can’t.”
Surprised, I pull back. “Wait. Is the rumor about the ‘breeding knot’ actually true?” I’d dismissed those claims when I’d come across them during my initial research on werewolves. I thought it was a bunch of tall tales. Erotic ones. Various websites claimed that shifters have a bulb of extra erectile tissue at the base of their shaft, which swells significantly during intercourse—swells so large that it locks partners together, often dubbed ‘tying’ or ‘knotting.’
It’s supposed to feel amazing for the woman—but it