Waiting For August

Part 45 ~ Crazy talk

My wolf was effervescent. He was vibrating on a frequency that he'd never achieved before. He had never been so happy, and the feeling was completely and totally mutual. August was in my bed.

August was in my bed, and he was naked.

August was in my bed. He was naked, and last night he'd let me claim him. He'd let me do what I'd been dying to do since the moment I saw him. He'd let me kiss him and touch him and taste him. He'd let me lay with him and press against him and when I couldn't wait a moment longer, he'd let me plunge into him and he had completed me. I'd never felt a connection like that before.

He was the best sex I'd ever had but it went so far beyond that. It was like every nerve, every fiber of my being had somehow merged with him. My wolf, his wolf, their spirits were like a cyclone of energy and the warmth of that energy had consumed us. My skin had tingled and flushed. It felt like gooseflesh breaking down my back. I felt it in my toes. I felt it rise up from my stomach like an eruption of bubbly volcanic air, and I had felt it in my groin. My release in him was earth shattering. The level of connection that I shared with him had not only raised the bar for what I now considered intimacy; it had annihilated it. He had ruined me for everyone else. There would never be anyone else. Ever. And I found myself completely and entirely okay with that.

Waking up beside him was my new favourite thing.

Okay, it was now my second most favourite thing. He looked like a fucking angel. He was lying on his side, with his chest turned towards me and he looked so peaceful. His dark bangs had fallen forward across his brow and the desire to sweep them back overcame me.

My touch, as gentle as it was, disturbed him and I had him at a disadvantage. I got to witness his brow crease and fold as his eyes peeked open. I got to watch as his sleepy vision came into focus, as his jade eyes met with mine. Those eyes which would forever be the bane of my existence.

It would be this moment that would be the most telling; when he realized where he was and remembered what we had done. Would he accept things as they were or try to run from them, as futile as that would be.

"Hi." I held my breath, waiting.

He blinked. Leaned into me. Closed his eyes and kissed me on the lips. Then again, once, twice more. He opened his eyes and fixed me with his gaze.

"Hi."

I exhaled.

That gave me the courage to reach out and grab his face. Kiss him myself. Let my tongue play at the space between his lips. Revel in the feeling of his lips working back against my own and the spine-chilling tingle that coursed through my body. Fuck. Was there anything better than lying here and kissing him? Having him in my bed with me? Sharing this private moment where it was just the two of us, and it felt like no one else in the world mattered.

Damn. Just kissing him had me ready for round two and I hadn't even checked in with him about how he'd felt about the first round. But his kisses gave me hope that there would indeed be a second bout.

"Hey. About last night. Are you okay with—"

"Did you get punched in the face again?"

He had me at a loss for words. "Uh... no. I do not recall that."

"Then, I guess I'm okay with it."

Huh. I hoped that our litmus test wasn't going to be me getting a fist to the face every time he was displeased because, and I am quite proud to say this, my boy, has a powerful right hook.