Page 66 of My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

“No. I need you. Now.”

No man alive would have refused that demand.

The tip of his shaft teased her sex, pressing between her lips, feeling the welcoming tightness of her pussy. He grabbed hold of her hips to keep her steady as she slid into her. Fuck she was so perfect. Snug. Clenching.

Bouncing.

She rocked on her heels, shoving herself against him, driving him deeper. “Fuck me,” she panted. “Fuck me good.”

You’d think by now he’d be used to her dirty talk. Used to her flipping between wanting soft and sensual to hard pounding. Each time it drove him a little crazy.

In a good way.

He gave her what she wanted. Pounded into her willing flesh. Thrust fast, deep, hard. His fingers dug into her flesh as he ground into her, driven by her mewling cries. The suction on his cock got tighter, and he began to grind, just angling his hips, over and over, feeling her tighten and tighten.

“Oh fuck yes,” she huffed as she came.

A ripple of her muscles that had him gasping and exclaiming, “I fucking love you.”

He did.

There was no other woman he would have killed a man for.

No other woman who completed him so perfectly.

No one else he wanted to spend his life with until they were both wrinkled and old.

When their climax subsided, he dragged her into his arms, holding her tight under the warm spray, which turned cold.

“Yikes!” She hopped out of the shower and grabbed the towel. The only towel apparently.

“You gonna share that?”

She eyed the fabric around her body then him before whipping it off and, with an impish smile, handing it over, saying, “Yeah, I’ll share, but only because I love you.”

After that, it was like they couldn’t stop. They cuddled in bed, murmuring their plans for a future, pretending as if tomorrow would be an awesome day.

Maybe it would. So long as the cops didn’t look too deep. But he knew there would be questions. The vehicles would lead to the owners. The owners would lead to Dr. Rogers. At which point their attempt to play with the crime scene would fall apart.

Hopefully by the time that happened, he, Athena, and her family would be long gone. He’d leave with her when they fled. They’d build a new life together somewhere. He’d miss his grandparents, but he couldn’t walk away from the love he had for Athena.

He hoped Grams and Gramps understood.

They fell asleep entwined and woke together, stretching and touching, smiling like idiots. They were still grinning when they went downstairs to the sound of pots rattling and the smell of frying bacon.

They walked into a kitchen full of people. Family to be exact. Grams at the stove, Athena’s mom by her side, giving a hand. Selene sat by Gramps, and her hands moved as she talked. Ares sat on the floor with the dog’s head in his lap. A dog that no longer raised hackles when Athena went near.

“Morning,” Derek murmured.

A chorus of mornings chirped back in reply. It was Athena who frowned and said, “Why does everyone look like they ate the canary?”

“Don’t you mean rabbit? Canaries aren’t even a snack,” Ares riposted.

Athena arched a brow. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because I know that smug look. You’re awfully pleased with yourself.”