Page 17 of Wolf

“Malcolm Quinn,” she says, and I hate the prick based on his name alone. “He was amazing at first. Pretty much the epitome of perfect. I guess that should have been a sign, but I was only nineteen and he was thirty-two, and that made me feel like so special and mature. He never treated me like I was too young and inexperienced. Not at first. We married fast. He was always so good with Arthur.”

“I know guys like that. He saw you were vulnerable and he preyed on you.”

“Yeah. Which, like, I know that now.” She shakes her head and I rub her shoulder, trying to comfort her even though I have no idea how to actually do that. The way she leans toward me until we’re touching even more than before leads me to think I’m doing something of an okay job at it.

“He changed shortly after we got married,” Julia says. “He said he didn’t want me working too much and he worried whenever I’d leave the house for too long. It got to where I had to fight him to go to the bakery each day. He told me because I was the owner and had a manager, I could take care of things from home. But I wanted to be there. I loved working there. I loved my workers and the customers liked me. I tried to compromise with him, but it got to be where I dreaded going home because of how unpleasant he’d become.”

I can’t bear it. I put my arm around her and pull her to me. I hate that she’s gone through all this shit. I just want to protect her, and I swear to God if that asshole ever lays a finger on her or Artie, then he’s gonna pay.

“I tried…” Her voice breaks. The crackle of pain at least helps me stay in control for a little longer. “I tried to remember how he was, how he used to be. I made excuses for him. I told myself it was my fault that he’d become so unhappy. I-I even sold my bakery to my manager because I thought that would fix everything. But it still wasn’t enough. He didn’t want me to have friends or to leave the house at all. I snapped at him, told him if he wanted someone to be so obedient and trained, he should have gotten a dog.”

I sense we’re at the end of the story that I still know so little about, and just in time. I’m shaking, my veins burning with rage. I have never hated someone more than I hate this Malcolm fuckwad and I’ve never even met him. He doesn’t know how lucky he is to have never met me.

“He told me I was only a bitch to him anyway. And then he hit me.”

“What?” I roar and leap off the couch. “I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking strangle him!”

Prison would be worth it just for the satisfaction of wrapping my hands around what I’m sure is a scrawny neck and squeezing, squeezing until he stops moving.

Julia jumps up beside me and grabs onto me. My control snaps like a broken bone, hard and painful. I grab onto her and yank her against me, crushing her breasts flat to my chest.

She runs her hands all over me like I’m the one who needs comforting. “Shush. Don’t wake anyone. It’s okay,” she says, her voice soothing.

“It ain’t okay! That bastard! I’ll hunt him down!”

Suddenly, her lips are clamped on mine, her hands flat on my chest. She’s on her toes, bracing all of her weight on me, and I’m done. I can’t. She fills my head with her heat and the sweet, heady scent of her and suddenly there’s nothing in the world that can stop me. I want her. I never stopped wanting her.

I bury my tongue in her mouth, fucking against hers. She utters a breathless moan, a hot pulse of pure sweetness. I rake my hands down her back, to her ass, squeezing her plump buttocks. She grinds against me, gasping her need. Heat radiates from her, scalds me. My stomach clenches, a tightness traveling all the way down to my cock.

She snakes a hand over my chest, my stomach, tracing my muscles. I’ve never been so aware of every inch of skin before.

She presses her palm against me, cups me and grinds the heel of her hand against me. My body shudders all over and my hips jerk forward, shoving myself more firmly into her grasp.

This should feel like old times. We’ve done it before. Instead, it feels entirely new.

I grab at my jeans, thumb the button open and wrench the zipper down. With more room to grow, my cock somehow gets even harder. I can feel my heartbeat reverberating down the length of my shaft.

Julia reaches into my underwear and wraps her fingers around me. I’m so big that she can’t fully get her hand around me. She slides her touch down to the base of my shaft, then slowly up to my head, pulling me free in the process.

My veins stand out prominent and blue, leading up to the tip so swollen and engorged it’s gone from red to purple. Her soft, firm hand works down to the base of me again and she tightens her grip just a little.

I groan, leaning my head back. “Fuck, Julia. That feels so fucking good.”

She kisses me, and I nip at her lower lip and tug at it with mine. She strokes me up again, right to the underside of my cockhead. Precum dribbles from my tip and with her next stroke, she spreads it on me. Friction becomes an irresistible glide as she works me with maddening care and slowness. It’s almost like this is her first time all over again, the way she handles me with a mix of caution and boldness.

I lean back, rocking my hips to pump myself in her fist. My fingers tangle in her hair, splay out across her back as she brings me to the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time. My body shakes, hot tingles racing through my veins. Heat is building in my core like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

“I’m close,” I grunt. “I’m so close.”

She keeps going slow and careful, too slow. I’m teetering. I grab her wrist and guide her, jerking myself off with her hand while my hips rock and writhe. Suddenly, sucking in my breath, I grab the hem of my shirt and hold the fabric over my cock. I’m erupting, shattering, still pumping her hand fast on myself while my cum spurts out in thick ropes. It goes on and on, feels like my life force is jetting out of the tip of my dick.

Then, suddenly it’s over. I’m empty. I stagger the few steps back to the couch and drop down, breathing hard. The bottom front of my shirt is a sticky mess, but I don’t care. I fucking like it, actually. It’s dirty and nasty and real, yeah.

Julia tucks up against my side and takes one of my hands, puts it right over her pussy. Even through the fabric, I feel damp heat radiating from her. “How about returning the favor?” she whispers.

Even though I was only just drained, renewed energy surges through me. I lift my head and press my fingers against her, feel her slit gaping open to pour out her heat and juices. “Spread your legs wide for me, baby.”

Her legs spring apart. Her breasts heave as she sucks in deep, fast gulps of air. I work my way up to undo her zipper, to let myself inside.