Charlotte Sanguinite POV:
I usually pride myself on being quite level-headed.
I try not to get into situations that could be troublesome or dangerous. My self-preservation instincts are quite honed now. However, it seems that whenever a certain wolf, Alpha, comes into the picture, I always make the wrong decision.
I never meant to go to dinner with him.
I never meant to get drunk around him.
And I certainly never meant to be standing here like this, in my kitchen, with him looming over me.
He's not trying to threaten me. Whatever instinctual fear that passed through me when Robert opened this line of questioning had faded away into something darker, hungrier. His hands are on either side of me, caging me against the kitchen counter, his hard-muscled body pressing into my softer one. My nipples are painfully hard, and my breathing is ragged.
I can't think with his mouth against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. I should be scared, but each time I feel the edge of those dangerously sharp teeth, my panties grow wetter. He hasn't done anything to me because my reaction to be this extreme, but his touch is addictive, even more so than the taste of his blood was.
I hear the marble of the counter crack behind me, and I'm jerked out of the haziness of my growing arousal.
"R-Robert?" I stammer, suddenly alarmed.
His voice is husky when he speaks a few seconds later. I'm losing control. Charlotte…"
Suddenly, the feeling of his teeth grazing my neck takes on a whole other, ominous meaning. I place my hands against his chest and push.
"Don't do that," he growls. "He doesn't like it."
His wolf.
He's referring to his wolf.
There's no doubt in my mind. Something is causing Robert to lose control of his animal. If he bites me, if he tears through my neck, I won't survive.
Letting out a shaking breath, I reached up and placed my hands on his cheeks. Anything to get his mouth away from my neck. He doesn't resist my touch, and when I turn his face toward mine, he moves willingly.
His eyes are an amber color. His wolf is looking straight at me.
A strange sound leaves his chest as his wolf stares at me through Robert's eyes. I don't know what I intended to do, but my lower muscles tighten in need when he takes one of my hands and licks the center of my palm, all the while holding my gaze.
I tremble, my eyes fluttering shut.
He leans forward, and when his mouth presses against mine—roughly, desperately—I give in, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
My lips part under the pressure, and his tongue darts inside, tasting me, licking and exploring. My lower body is on fire, needing something.
Robert lifts one hand and pulls out the chopstick that is holding my bun in place. As my wild curls bounce loose, he winds his hand in them, his fingers seizing a bunch of my hair in a tight, dominating grip and pulling my head back so that he gets better access to my mouth.
I've never been kissed in this way. As he plunders my mouth, I can't form a single straight thought in my head. All the fear and concern are out the window. All I know for sure is that I want this man's hands on my body. I want more. I need more.
All self-preservation instincts seem to have packed a bag and left on vacation. My hands lower to his chest, digging into his shirt as I moan, helpless against this assault of his mouth on mine.
That's when I felt Robert's hand under my shirt.
A groan escapes my lips as his fingers leave a trail of fire wherever they go. His sharp nails make quick work of my bra, my breasts spilling into his hands, at his mercy. He squeezes them, torments them with just one hand.
There is a very small voice, somewhere in the back of my head, warning me against all this, but it's easy to shut it up. The buttons of my blouse fly off with a little help from Robert's strength, and his mouth leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, my collarbone, until he has one of my nipples in his mouth.
I've only been with one human, and that experience cannot compare to what Robert is doing to me. He takes his time, lavishing wet attention on one nipple and then the other. When he bites down on the pink nub, I cry out, rubbing my legs together.
My juices are now dripping down the inside of my leg. I know he can smell them, but he doesn't touch me there, the one place I desperately crave his attention.
"R—Robert!" I gasp, but when he nibbles the plump part of my chest, his chuckle is dark. I felt one of his hands inching lower, and without thinking, I spread my legs for him.
"That's my girl," he whispers roughly against my neck now, his pleasure at my willingness radiating through me, making me even more wanton. His approval drives something in me, as if I need it.
Apparently, he doesn't believe in undressing me when he can simply rip my clothes off. My favorite pair of jeans faces the same treatment as my blouse. I can hardly bring myself to care as his fingers push aside the edge of my simple cotton panties and thrust into my wet pvssy.
"Fvck," he groans into my ear. "How are you so wet?"
At his words, my inner muscles clench his thick fingers, and I bite my lower lip at the feeling of them gliding inside me, touching every nerve and setting them on fire.
My blood is humming with need and desire and wanton lust. My mouth descends on his neck, and I can feel my own teeth sharpen. Robert laughs huskily. "Going to bite me now, little vampire?"
"N—No," I whimper as he slowly pulls out his fingers till the very tips are left inside and then thrusts them back in harshly. I'm standing on my toes, my nails digging into his chest, my mouth against his neck, as I fight the urge to bite him, to share this pleasure with him.
My head is filled with white heat. All I can feel is the way he's slowly pumping his fingers inside me, driving me to the edge, driving me mad.
I should have pulled back then.
That would have been the smart move.
Because the second Robert pushes me into a blinding orgasm, my teeth sink into his neck.
His whole body goes still as I take one mouthful of his blood, and then he shudders. I'm still coming all over his hand as he pulls out, grabs my hips, picks me up, and puts me on the kitchen counter. I don't know what's happening; my mind is in shambles as a result of the orgasm that still has me in its throes.
But when he pulls my knees apart, dragging me to the edge of the marble slab, I see him reaching for his pants with his free hand, and I know.
I don't want to stop him.
So, I don't.
His cock springs out, and the sheer girth and size of it has me staring in shock. That can't fit inside me. I know it can't.
But Robert is moving, and he guides his cock to the entrance of my pussy and begins pushing his way inside. It's an uncomfortable fit. It's too thick. But I find myself falling back on the counter, supported only by my forearms, my lips apart.
I can feel it.
As it drives deeper inside me, I can feel every inch of it. The pain and pleasure are intermixed, and I feel so helpless and needy as he drives his way in. My pussy is swallowing that huge monster, and I make a broken sound.
When I feel the slap of his balls against my skin, I realize he managed to fit in.
"R—Robert," I moan his name. "Please… Please move."
I'm so ridiculously full, but I crave the sensation, the burn and the pain, and that wild pleasure that's just on the cusp.
He does move, and a scream leaves my mouth as he pulls out and slams back inside me. There is no gentleness, no soft words, no reassurances. He's fucking me like a man on a mission, and I just open my legs wider for him.
I won't be able to walk tomorrow.