This  Lick comes  from Wolf of the West, a standalone novel currently available here! Remember, Licks are NSFW excerpts, so read carefully – and look forward to another erotic excerpt on the smutty seventeenth of next month!

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Just Marcas’ kiss was almost enough to bring Connor over the edge. When Marcas pulled back again, Connor was glad, not wanting to make a fool of himself, but the next moment he thought it might not matter. He felt a single one of Marcas’ fingers moving over the entrance of his body, circles that teased with a dip inward, never really penetrating, stimulating nerves new to sensual sensation. His other hand gripped Connor’s cock at the base, stroked slowly.

“Marcas—Marcas, please, I’m—”

“Close?” The word was a growl that came close to his skin. “Good. You like when I touch you, Connor?”

“Yes.”

“You like when I touch you here.”

Slowly, the finger penetrated, and there was both pleasure and faint burning. “Yes…“ Marcas pressed deeper, and Connor let his head fall back against the ground. “Oh yes.” The feeling was wholly new, different from any way he’d ever touched himself or been touched by any lover. “Please, Marcas, more.”

He felt more stretching him, knew it was two fingers inside him now, but the slow pace of Marcas’ stroking didn’t change. Gods. He’d been wanting for so long that it was all he could do to keep himself from really begging, but Connor’s body wouldn’t obey like his voice did. He moved his hips against Marcas’ fingers, into his fist, reached up to grip Marcas’ shoulders with both hands.

He had been teasing himself before Marcas came—what Marcas was doing now was driving him to distraction. Connor slipped his hands down Marcas’ sides, pressed his palm against the rigid throbbing of Marcas’ cock.

“Want you, Marcas. Want more—want you—”

The fingers moving in him thrust faster, sharper. The fist wrapped around his cock squeezed tighter, sped its strokes, and Connor lost his words to gasps and moans. He stared up into Marcas’ eyes and felt another surge of heat. So good, the fingers inside him, the fist wrapped around his cock—and the way Marcas’ looked at him, hungry, panting wolf in the back of his gaze, as if he would swallow Connor whole—

So good.

“Marcas, you—you—please—“

The words were barely coherent, but Marcas laughed at him still, his voice almost hoarse with wanting.

“No, Connor. No more than this. Not now.” He flicked his gaze up to meet Connor’s eyes. “Not unless you want more fingers inside you.”

“Yes—anything, yes—”

Connor heard Marcas groan, then gasped as he pulled two fingers away and pushed three back inside. It was almost too much, slow burning stretch, deep feeling, but too much wasn’t enough.

“So tight, Connor. So tight around my fingers, how will I fit my cock in you?”

Connor squeezed the thickness of Marcas’ cock under his hand, felt his fingers inside touch something hot with pleasure. He groaned and bucked up twice into Marcas’ fist, fire spreading everywhere inside him, a shattering ecstasy. He felt the wet warmth of his own essence on his chest, his belly, and over him Marcas trembling—trembling so that Connor was able to pull himself back, away from fingers and hand and the heat of his body, and tumble him back onto the grass.