I Bite She Sucks Bloom, Penelope (howl and other poems TXT) 📖

I expected to be more embarrassed if I ever had a guy see me like this, but there was a ravenous hunger in his movements and expression. I could plainly see how much he was enjoying this—just much as I was—and that did wonders for my self-confidence.

“I’ve never done this before,” I said.

Riggs had been ripping off his shirt, but he paused at that. “Is this okay?” he asked.

The question caught me off guard. I realized until that moment, I’d felt like I had no choice at this point. I’d let him get this far, and he would be mad if I changed my mind—or so I thought. Three little words made me see there was far more to Riggs than I’d given him credit for.

I nodded, smiling shyly.

It was like I’d pressed “resume” on a movie. He leapt back into action, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the side.

His torso was dusted with dark hair mostly concentrated around his chest. A seemingly endless row of abdominal muscles flexed and shifted while he worked on his belt and pants.

I had sat up halfway at some point and my hands were on him, warm skin and soft hair tickling my fingertips as I ran them down his muscles.

Riggs took my wrist and pushed it down his stomach, plunging it toward his underwear, which was the last article of clothing he had on. They were tight-fitting black boxers that revealed a thick bulge that looked too big to be what I thought it was.

I immediately blushed and tried to pull my hand back.

Riggs let go of my wrist and took a fistful of my hair. He gripped it, which pulled my head back slightly, but not painfully. He used his leverage to force my chin up toward him. He studied me with parted lips and hungry eyes, then a faint smile formed. “I haven’t done this in a very long time,” he said.

“Really?” I had to admit I’d already puzzled that question over in my head. The truth, I’d decided, was that someone like Riggs probably had a new woman in his bed every weekend. Abstinence on his part wouldn’t be for lack of willing partners, and that made me further re-write my understanding of him.

He pushed me down gently by my chest. My legs still hung over the edge of the bed at the knees and he was between my legs. He planted his chiseled arms on either side of my head so his heavy frame made my head sink into the plush comforter deeper.

“It seems I was waiting for the right suicidal, bat-wielding, immune compromised human woman to come along.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “I guess I should go, then. It sounds like you’re still searching.”

He cupped my chin, then planted his first tender kiss on my lips. It took me by surprise.

All the contact until now had been part of a frenzy. It was all instinct and hormones. Rough hands and heavy breaths.

But the kiss was different. It was soft and purposeful. It made my breath catch and my skin feel like it was crawling with little motes of fuzzy warmth.

I practically melted into the comforter, body going slack as his lips brushed mine.

He pulled back and our lips made a quiet sound as they parted. “Unfortunately for you,” he said. “I seem to have a fondness for you.”

“Unfortunately for you,” I countered. “I-” I swallowed. I’d been planning to say something suave and clever. The truth was neither. “I like you too,” I blurted. “But I don’t know if that’s just the fact that you’ve saved my life a few times talking.”

“Then maybe it’s time to stop talking,” Riggs said. His eyelashes looked so long up close. I could feel the soft puff of warm air from each word that left his lips.

“Did you just tell me to be quiet?” I asked.

“That depends. Are you going to produce a baseball bat from somewhere and hit me again if I say ‘yes’?”

I grinned, eyes trailing down his abs to the bulging spot in his underwear. Just looking at it made my stomach turn to lava. “That depends if you’ll let me borrow the one you brought.” I internally winced. Did I really just say that?

Riggs smiled with half of his mouth, then pulled down his underwear.

I stared, and in that moment, I felt certain I was in far, far over my head.

26

Riggs

I couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. I’d just pulled out my cock in front of Sylvie. A human.

The part I didn’t tell her was that I’d never slept with a human. Ever. Werewolves treated sex as more of a means to an end or like a pressure release valve. It didn’t carry as much meaning, and I’d never assigned any to it.

Except I couldn’t stop looking down at the small woman lying under my arms and letting my thoughts spiral. I wanted it to mean something. But why?

She was staring between my legs with widened eyes. “How does that even fit?” she asked.

I chuckled. “Gentle persuasion.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Like gently trying to persuade a semi-truck into a residential garage?”

I kissed her again. God. She was different. Each time I met her lips, the thought struck me like a sledgehammer.

Usually, my wolf rose to the surface and dominated the encounter during sex. But he was oddly dormant now. I could barely sense him in the back of my mind, like he was slumbering.

It made everything feel strangely new. Exciting.

Maybe that’s why sex had never seemed special. It was more like letting my wolf out of his cage and taking a backseat.

I slid Sylvie farther onto the bed and climbed above her. She still had on her top, so I spent a few moments fixing that problem.

I bent to kiss her breasts, cupping a handful of the pale, impossibly soft skin with my hand. Her nipple hardened immediately against my tongue and she squirmed, letting out quiet moans through closed lips.

I