CHAPTER 8: SEX EXPERIMENT

KNOX’S POV

"Knox, what are you—"

"Quiet." I move higher, kissing and biting up her inner thigh until she's squirming. "I'm conducting an experiment."

"What kind of experiment?"

I look up at her, my hands spreading her thighs wider. "Seeing how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop."

Her eyes go wide. "That's not—you can't—"

"Watch me."

I bury my face between her legs and go to work.

She tastes like heaven and bad decisions, and I devour her like I've been starving for months.

Which, honestly, I have been.

Every boring pack dinner watching her sit quietly beside Gale, I wanted this. Wanted her spread out and desperate and making those sweet sounds just for me.

She comes fast, her hands fisting in my hair, thighs shaking around my head. I don't stop.

"Knox, wait, I just—oh god—"

The second orgasm hits before she's recovered from the first. She's crying now, overwhelmed, trying to push me away, but I grab her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand.

"Color?" I ask against her pussy.

"W-what?"

"Green, yellow, or red. Green means keep going, yellow means slow down, red means stop immediately. What's your color, Ember?"

She stares at me, dazed. "Green. It's green, but I don't think I can—"

"You can." I lick her slowly, deliberately. "And you certainly will. Because we made a deal, remember? You wanted stars every time. I'm going to make sure you see the whole fucking galaxy."

The third orgasm breaks her completely. She screams my name, her whole body arching off the bed, tears streaming down her face from the intensity.

I finally release her wrists and crawl up her body, kissing every inch of flushed skin until I reach her mouth.

"How many was that?" I murmur against her lips.

"Three," she whimpers. "Four if you count—"

"I count everything." I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock teasing her open. "And we're not done yet."

I push inside slowly, watching her face for every flicker of pain and pleasure. She's tight and swollen and so perfectly responsive that it takes everything I have not to lose control immediately.

On the airplane, I was holding back. Trying not to hurt her, trying to keep some semblance of restraint.

Not anymore.

I pull almost all the way out, then slam back in deep enough to make her cry out.

"This is what you signed up for," I growl, setting a brutal pace. "This is what being mine means for the next week. Understand?"

She nods frantically, already climbing toward another orgasm.

"Say it."

"I'm yours," she gasps. "For the next week, I'm yours."

"Damn right."

I fuck her hard and deep, changing angles until I find the one that makes her scream, then hitting it over and over until she's sobbing and coming around my cock.

Five.

I don't stop. I flip her onto her stomach, pull her hips up, and take her from behind. This angle lets me go deeper, and she makes these desperate little sounds that drive me absolutely feral.

Six.

I flip her again, wanting to see her face when she breaks, and this time when she comes she actually passes out for a few seconds, her eyes rolling back, body going completely limp.

I slow down, checking she's still breathing, and she comes back with a gasp.

"Knox, I can't, please, I really can't—"

"One more," I promise, even though it's a lie. "Give me one more and then I'll let you rest."

Seven.

Only then do I finally let myself go, burying myself as deep as I can and filling her with my cum while she's still pulsing and clenching around me.

I collapse beside her, pulling her onto my chest before she can protest. She's completely boneless, fucked-out, barely conscious.

"That's seven," I say after a moment.

She makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob.

"You're insane."

"You asked for stars. I gave you the whole fucking universe."

We lie there in silence. I listen to her breathing slow, feel her heartbeat against my ribs, and realize I'm holding her like she's something precious instead of temporary. Dangerous territory.

"Just so we're clear," I say, my voice harder than necessary, "this is temporary. One week. Don't get attached."

She's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Trust me, I learned my lesson about attachment. Love is for people who enjoy getting their hearts ripped out."

"Agreed." But my wolf snarls in protest, wanting to bite her, mark her, make her actually mine for strange reasons.

I ignore him. I'm good at that.

Ember falls asleep in my arms, soft and warm and completely trusting.

I stare at the ceiling, counting all the ways this could go wrong, and wondering how the hell I'm supposed to walk away from a woman I’ve always wanted in seven days.

Outside, the wind picks up. Snow begins to fall harder against the windows.

And somewhere in the resort, my phone—abandoned on the bathroom counter—buzzes with the first of many messages that will change everything by morning.