Chapter 124

Iris

With my hands on his chest, Arthur gently backs me against the bathroom sink. He lifts me slightly so I’m sitting on the edge of the cool porcelain. I wrap my legs around him instinctively, pulling him closer as his mouth trails down my neck.

“Are you sure you want this?” he murmurs against my collarbone. “We don’t have to—”

“I want this,” I breathe, threading my fingers through his hair. “I need this.”

When he pulls back to look at me, I gasp softly. His eyes are glowing—that vibrant, toxic green that only appears when his wolf is close to the surface. It’s always been a turn-on, seeing that primal side of him emerge because of me, and right now is no different.

But then his expression changes. His eyes widen slightly, lips parting in surprise.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

Arthur shakes his head, blinking like he just saw a ghost. “Your eyes…”

Frowning, I reach up and brush my fingers across my cheekbone. “What about them?”

“They glowed,” he says, sounding almost in awe. “Just for a second, but I swear they glowed.”

My heart skips a beat. “Really? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” His thumb traces my eyelashes, making me shiver. “Your wolf might be closer to emerging than we thought.”

The idea sends a thrill through me—mixed with a healthy dose of fear. After living my entire life as a human, the concept of having a wolf inside of me is still bizarre and, frankly, almost alien.

On one hand, I’m excited to experience this side of myself, to fully understand what it means to be a werewolf and be accepted by the society at large.

On the other hand, it’s terrifying to think about surrendering control to an animal instinct that I’ve never felt before.

But right now, with Arthur’s body pressed against mine and desire clouding my thoughts, and with steam filling the air around us, the excitement is definitely winning out.

I kiss him again, harder this time, pushing all my confusion and fear and elation into the kiss. His hands find the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head in one smooth motion. My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt until I get impatient and just yank, sending buttons scattering across the bathroom floor.

“Sorry,” I mutter against his mouth.

He laughs. “I have more shirts.”

Our movements are frantic now, bordering on desperate. We’ve done this dance a hundred times before, and multiple times in the past weeks, but tonight feels oddly different—more urgent somehow. Maybe it’s the stress of the upcoming debut.

Or maybe it’s the possibility that my wolf is stirring.

Whatever it is, I can’t get enough of him. It’s like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air and the only way I can breathe is through his lungs.

I slide his shirt off his broad shoulders, running my hands over the familiar planes of his muscular chest. My fingers brush across the peaks of muscles, his nipples, the v-line that runs down into his trousers.

He unclasps my bra with practiced ease, his mouth immediately finding my breast. I arch into him with a gasp as his tongue circles my nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

The shower, which has been running this whole time, has almost entirely clouded the room with steam. Arthur’s hands move to the waistband of my pajama shorts, pushing them down along with my underwear. I kick them off, now completely naked while he’s still half-dressed.

“Not fair,” I breathe, tugging at his belt.

He grins and helps me, stepping out of his pants and boxers in one go. Now we’re both naked, skin to skin, nothing between us but steam and desire.

But before we get into the shower, Arthur drops to his knees in front of me, spreading my legs wider. His mouth finds my pussy, his tongue exploring every fold and crevice with maddening precision.

No matter how many times we do this, I’m always struck by how he knows exactly how to touch me, where to lick, when to suck. It’s not long before I’m clutching the edge of the sink, my head thrown back, a cry escaping my lips as pleasure washes over me.

Before I’ve even come down from that high, he’s standing again and lifting me off the sink. “Shower,” he growls, his eyes still that brilliant, glowing green.

We stumble into the shower together, the hot water streaming over our bodies. Arthur presses me against the wall, and I don’t even have a chance to gasp from the sudden shock of the cold tiles against my skin before his mouth is finding mine again. His hands slide down my wet body, lifting one of my legs to wrap around his waist.

“I need you,” I gasp, digging my nails into his shoulders as the first poke of his erect member nearly makes me cry out with want. “Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one smooth thrust, his cock is fully seated inside of me, stretching me from all angles. I moan at the sensation, clinging to him as he begins to move. The water adds more friction than lubrication, but that added pressure just makes the feeling even more exquisite, the perfect dose of pain with the pleasure.

As he slowly thrusts in and out, jerking his hips to fully stretch me, Arthur reaches for the bottle of body wash and squirts some into his palm. His soapy hands glide over my skin, caressing my breasts, my stomach, between my legs. His palm lingers on my clit, rubbing in a firm, slow circle as his hips push in, then pull out.

I return the favor, sliding my hands down his chest, over his ass, delighting in the way his breath hitches when I touch him.

Quickly, our movements become more frantic, more desperate once again. The steam, the soap, the water—everything blurs together until there’s nothing but sensation. I’m close, so close, and I can tell from the way Arthur’s rhythm falters that he is too.

“Arthur,” I gasp, clinging to him. My legs begin to tremble, but this time, it has nothing to do with anxiety.

“Let go,” he whispers. He grips my thighs and hoists me up so I’m pinned between his body and the slick shower wall, relying completely on the strength of his arms supporting me. “I’ve got you.”

And I do. Wave after wave of pleasure wracks my body. My muscles tighten around his cock, moans muffled by his mouth covering mine. Arthur follows a moment later, his face buried in my neck as he groans my name. Each jerk, each twitch of him inside of me makes me feel like I’m going to burst.

And then, all too soon, our movements slow and he gently lowers me. Not just to my feet, but all the way to his knees, holding my body close beneath the hot water as he carefully pulls himself out of me.

For a long moment, we just sit there under the spray, holding each other and catching our breath. Finally, Arthur reaches for the shampoo, squirting some into his palm. He massages it into my hair with gentle fingers, taking his time. I do the same for him, and can’t tear my gaze away as he gently closes his eyes and enjoys my touch.

We finish washing, slow and gentle. After about ten minutes, Arthur turns off the water and grabs a towel, wrapping it around me before getting one for himself. I step out of the shower, drying off as he does the same.

As I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, I lean in close, examining my eyes. They look normal—the same honey amber they’ve always been. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Will I look different?” I ask, suddenly worried. “If my wolf emerges, will I… change?”

Arthur comes up behind me, and the way his towel is slung low on his hips makes my pulse race with excitement. “Maybe. Most people’s wolves emerge during puberty, so the changes are gradual and less noticeable. But for adults who have a wolf emerge later in life, the changes can be more profound.”

“What kind of changes?”

“Your eyes might become brighter, even when they’re not glowing. Your hair might change—become thicker, maybe a slightly different shade. Your body might change too, becoming stronger, more resilient.”

I bite my lip, studying my reflection. I’ve spent twenty-six years looking like this, and I’ve only just met my parents, who I take after so much. The idea of my appearance suddenly changing doesn’t fill me with as much joy as it should. “But I kind of like the way I look now,” I admit.

Arthur wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. “Whatever changes happen, they won’t be bad,” he assures me. “It’ll feel right to you, like a good stretch first thing in the morning. Like parts of you that were always meant to be a certain way finally settling into place.”

“You promise?” I look at his reflection.

“I promise.” He kisses my shoulder, then the connection to my neck, then up toward my jawline. “And for what it’s worth,” he murmurs huskily between kisses, “wolf or no wolf, you’re a bombshell, Iris. You always have been.”

I can’t help but smile at that, and turn, swatting at his chest. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. President.”

“I disagree.” He grins and peppers on last kiss across the tip of my nose. “Now, get some rest. Your debut is tomorrow, and if you’re a good girl, you might just get a surprise after.”