Darken Moon University

Us: Kaiden

"Tell me what you feel," I demanded, my own stroke tightening, dragging a ragged groan from my throat. The friction was good, but it was a poor substitute for the wet heat waiting for me just a few feet away.

"Burning," she gasped, her lashes fluttering as her fingers traced the delicate path I’d set for her. "It's... it's tightening. Like a coil."

"Yes," I hissed, my eyes glued to where her hand disappeared between her thighs. I could see the slickness coating her fingers, could smell how ready she was. "That coil is yours. You control the tension. Don't let it snap until you say so. Press down. A little harder."

She did as she was told, her fingers pressing into the slick, swollen flesh, and her back bowed off the mattress. A sharp cry tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered. The sound went straight to my c**k, making it jerk in my grip, precum spilling over my knuckles.

"Kaiden," she sobbed, her hips twitching, fighting the urge to grind against her hand. "It's too much. I need... I need more."

"You can take it," I gritted out, my own rhythm faltering as I watched her fall apart. "You're doing so well. Look at you, so f*****g beautiful."

I could feel the sweat slicking my palms, could hear the ragged stutter of my breath as I fought to keep my strokes slow, matching the deliberate pace I’d forced upon her. My wolf was pacing, snarling at the tight leash I held him on. He wanted to ignore the rules, wanted to flip her over and drive into her until she couldn't remember anything but the feel of us.

But looking at her face—the way her brows were drawn together in exquisite torture, the flush spreading down her neck to those heavy, heaving breasts—I knew this was the only way. She wasn't just a vessel for the fever anymore; she was an active participant, burning brighter than I’d ever seen her.

"Rub it," I commanded, my voice cracking slightly as I squeezed the base of my c**k. The pressure was almost painful now, a desperate countermeasure to the visual feast laid out before me. "Use two fingers. Slide up and down the hood. Don't touch the tip directly yet."

Her breath hitched on a sob, but she didn't hesitate. She slid two fingers down either side of her c**t, using the slick gathered there to ease the friction. She wasn't touching the sensitive peak directly, just stimulating the hood, teasing the nerves without overwhelming them.

I watched, mesmerized, as her hips began to move in a slow, rolling wave, matching the rhythm of her hand. The desperate edge was gone, replaced by a deep, languid pleasure that seemed to seep into her bones.

"Good," I groaned, my own hand mimicking the motion, dragging my fist up and down my shaft in long, slow pulls. "Just like that. Can you feel the difference?"

"I... yes," she breathed, the tension in her shoulders finally dipping, her body melting into the mattress rather than fighting against it. "It’s... deep. It doesn't burn as much."

"Exactly," I rasped, my thumb sweeping over the head of my c**k to smear the wetness gathering there. The friction was maddening, a slow, sweet torture that mirrored exactly what she was feeling. "We ride the edge, little wolf. We don't jump off it."

Her eyes were locked on my hand now, watching the way my fist moved up and down the thick length of me. The scent of her arousal spiked again, sharper this time, mixed with a new wave of curiosity and hunger. She liked watching me. Knowing she was getting off on the sight of me losing control made my balls draw up tight against my body.

"That's it," I encouraged, my voice rough and breathless. "Keep watching. See what you do to me?"

Her gaze was heavy, half-lidded and hazy, tracing the vein pulsing along the underside of my shaft as my fist continued its slow, torturous glide. The visual connection between us was an electric current, humming in the air, syncing our breaths, syncing our heartbeats.

"Does it feel good?" she whispered, her fingers stilling their motion for a split second before remembering my command.

"Better than anything," I groaned, my hips jerking involuntarily into my fist. The sight of her—naked, flushed, and trembling with need for *me*—was pushing me to the brink faster than I wanted to admit. "You have no idea what you look like right now. Seeing you touch yourself... it's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

A surge of wetness coated her fingers at my words, her breath hitching. The praise, the dirty talk—it was fuel for her fire, just as much as it was for mine.

"Keep going," I rasped, my control beginning to fray at the edges. "Faster now. Rub that c**t. I want to see you come."

Her fingers moved instantly, obeying the command before her mind could catch up. She found a rhythm that was frantic and desperate, her hips grinding down to meet her hand. The wet, slick sounds of her touch filled the room, driving me crazy.

"Yes," I hissed, my own hand flying over my c**k now, the slow torture abandoned in favor of chasing the release that was clawing at my spine. "That's it. Let go. Give it to me."

Her head tipped back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat, her mouth opening in a silent scream as the tension finally snapped. Her whole body bowed tight, her back arching off the mattress, her thighs shaking violently as the orgasm tore through her.

The sight of her unraveling was my undoing. Her body was a bow drawn taut, every muscle locking down as the wave crashed over her. A broken cry tore from her throat, raw and beautiful, and the scent of her release—sweet, sharp, and utterly addictive—filled the air.

I didn't try to hold back any longer. I couldn't.

With a guttural roar, I pitched forward, my hand stripping my c**k in a frantic, punishing rhythm. The pressure in my spine exploded, white-hot and blinding. I shuffled closer on my knees, needing to mark her, needing to claim this moment in the most primal way I could without breaking my promise.

The first rope of heat landed high on her stomach, a stark, white contrast against the flushed, fevered skin of her belly. I groaned, the sound ripped from my chest as my hips jerked, spilling more of my release over her. It coated the soft, heavy curve of her breast, painting her skin in long, thick stripes that marked her as mine.

Mine.

The thought echoed through my mind, drowning out everything else. She was shaking beneath me, her body still riding the aftershocks of her orgasm, but she didn't flinch. She didn't try to pull away from the heat of my seed marking her skin. Instead, her eyes fluttered open, hazy and sated, locked onto mine with a look of awe that nearly brought me to my knees.