I’ve been stuck inside these four walls for so long that they’ve become a prison. When Thorne walks in the door, he’s stepped into my cage. I’m the wild animal and he’s the meat presented to me to help tame me.

I’m on him, inches from the front door, rubbing my scent onto him, ready to perform any trick he asks, as long as he fills me up at some point along the way.

Dropping to my knees doesn’t feel like I’m submitting to him. It’s powerful and liberating. My gaze up into his eyes is calm and even, my fingers scrambling as I feverishly unbuckle his belt. He sees the unbridled need in my eyes, how raw and open and exposed I am for him. And he smiles down at me. The wolf has tamed me.

I told him three days ago that I hated that I needed him. That was the fear talking. The truth is that needing him, trusting him, letting him in, it freed me.

My tongue runs over my bottom lip, and I slowly slide down his zipper, allowing my fingers to trace the hard bulge lurking on the other side of the sturdy fabric. I search his face. Reaching into the opening, I free his erection and rub my cheek along the tip as though greeting it. I love the velvety feel of it, and the musky masculine scent that curls up my nostrils makes my core tighten in anticipation. I grip the rigid veined shaft with one hand. My fingers don’t quite make it all the way around, he’s so thick and swollen. When I see precum at the tip, I don’t fight the urge to lick it off, to taste it and smear some across my cheeks. I moan at the salty taste without intending to, loving the taste of him.

He groans as he watches my mouth part wider. His hips jerk when my tongue circles his tip before sliding up the underside of his length, all the way to his balls. I see his eyes roll back into his head for a second, and I’m filled with satisfaction. Maybe I was meant to give head. He seems to like what I’m doing, and as for me, I’m soaking wet with need, my clit is throbbing, and he hasn’t touched me yet.

Moving down to the velvety bulb again, I hold on to his waistband and suck him between my lips, taking as much of him as I can. His cockhead hits the back of my throat and I moan again, picturing how hard he’ll hit the deepest walls in my core the next time he fucks me.

I want to keep going. To suck and lick and tease him until I draw out his climax and taste his come. But he doesn’t let me. His hands go under my arms. He picks me up off the floor and lifts me over his shoulder, one hand smacking my bare ass cheek under my t-shirt as he strides over to the bed.

We haven’t said a word to each other, but they’re not needed at all, not when our bodies can just as easily do the talking, with skin touching skin. The same way I can read people by listening, and with my eyes, I can talk to Thorne with my body.

He deposits me into bed, flipping me onto my stomach. I’m on my hands and knees without him asking. Maybe I’m a natural in the bedroom. Perhaps all the naughtiness I saw on stage at the Speak-Easy has soaked into my skill set by osmosis. I don’t know, but Thorne seems to like it. I look back at him, impatient for his touch while he takes off his boots and strips his clothes off.

He’s behind me and in position a second later, grinding along my opening, lubing his cockhead with my juices. I lower my head to the bed and raise my ass in the air, pressing hard against him when I feel him thrust into me, filling me to overflowing.

I cry my pleasure into the sheets as his hands tighten on my waist. He pumps in and out of me, deeper, rougher each time, pushing me closer each time he slams against what I think must be my g-spot. My legs are the first to go limp. Then I grip the sheets into my fist, and just as the first wave of my peak hits me, one hand grabs a fistful of my hair.

The red heat of a heavy hand lands on the flesh of my ass, and I shake through the explosive orgasm that I’ve only read about in romance books. Every cell in my body comes.

Oh God, it burns and feels so fucking good too. He spanks me again and again, then alternates, pistoning his cock into me. And each time, my pleasure grows. He continues to fuck then punish me for what feels like a long time, but I love every second of it. I don’t want him to stop.

Until he comes. We collapse into bed, his body covering mine like the warmest blanket while we recover. I think I fall a little harder when his lips graze my neck and his tongue traces around my earring. I feel like he has the question at the tip of his tongue. Whenever he decides to ask, I’ll tell him everything about the earring, the memory I have of my parents, how important the piece of engraved metal is to me.

He can ask me anything, because he is everything I could ask for.

A while later, we neaten up and start to dress. Now that I’ve had a dose of him, I can set aside my lust and deal with the priority. Like what he’s done, where he’s been, and how much he’s learned.

“Can you tell me about your progress with Murphy?”