Beautiful problems.
They were like a bruise I couldn’t stop pressing on, just to feel something. Just to remind myself they were real.
I was losing my grip entirely.
I hated how easily they got under my skin.
I hated that they didn’t even have to try.
Derrick didn’t whisper sweet things.
No the fuc.kee just claimed me as his in front of the entire academy.
And Goddess when he backed me into a wall in the library, one hand beside my head, the other gripping my waist. The shelves had been tall, the lights dim, and his mouth too close to mine.
–
I could feel his co.ck pressing against my hip hot, hard, shameless.
His breath on my cheek, grazing my skin and torturing my sanity.
And I just stood there.
Not from fear.
But from the sick, shameful throb that pulsed between my legs.
Dalton was even worse.
Quiet. Sinister in his own way. Less fire, more smolder.
The thought of him- shirtless, sprawled on my bed, his hand pumping slow and deliberate around his c**k.
He hadn’t stopped.
Not even when our eyes met.
He just looked at me, half-lidded, lips parted, and whispered my name like a goddamn invocation.
Like I was the reason he needed to come. Like I was some kind of dark temptation sent to wreck him.
And maybe… maybe I was.
I exhaled sharply, eyes closed, the water scalding down my back, trying to wash away the memory failing.
The heat inside me had nothing to do with the shower anymore.
And I knew it.
It bloomed in my core like a molten, shame-stained rose. Slow. Relentless. It curled down my spine, wrapped around my ribs, coiled tight between my thighs.
I braced one hand against the tile, the other gripping the pendant at my throat. I wasn’t supposed to feel this. I wasn’t supposed to want this.
But I did.
Goddess, I did.
Not love.
Not even lust, not really.
It was hunger.
Raw. Animalistic.
A need to claim something back. To take control of a desire I didn’t ask for but couldn’t
shake.
I dug my nails into my palm.
This wasn’t weakness.
It was finding relief, burning stamina.
A slow unraveling of everything I kept bound so tight inside.
And for a moment, I let myself fall.
Derrick’s voice-low, rough-saying my name like he wanted to bite it.
Dalton’s fist moving over his length as if imagining it was my mouth, my hand, my body under his.
I clenched my jaw. The spray hissed against my skin, but nothing could drown the images burning behind my eyes.
This was dangerous.
This was everything I’d been warned about.
But they were danger wrapped in temptation, and maybe I was sick, but I was starting to crave the fire.
I let the water pour over my body like punishment. Or maybe it was absolution. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. The heat was scalding, bordering on painful, but I welcomed it. I needed to feel something other than the hollowness that had taken root inside me.
My hands wandered on my body, but in my head, they weren’t mine. They were his. No- theirs. I imagined rough palms, calloused fingers. Hands that had pinned me, taunted me, touched me without touching, leaving me aching and desperate for more.
I leaned forward, bracing myself against the wall, steam wrapping around me like smoke. Like a secret. My forehead pressed to the cold tile as my palm slid slowly down my stomach, between my thighs.
My cl.it was throbbing with need and I could already feel myself getting wet.
I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. But I did.
My fingers reached it, and I hesitated for a fraction of a second before pressing down, circling. A low moan escaped my lips, muffled by the pounding water. I quickened the pace, the friction building a slow burn that spread through my veins.
In my mind, it was Derrick’s voice that rasped in my ear, low and breathless, his mouth brushing the shell of it as he said my name like he was tasting sin. One of his hands would be firm, possessive squeezing my t**s, the other one holding me still by the throat, making me feel every wicked intention coiled behind his smirk. He’d watch me, his eyes dark and knowing, as my own pleasure betrayed me.
Then Dalton-his touch would be crueler. Not unkind, but deliberate. Teasing. Testing how far I could break before I begged. He’d use his thumb to find my clit, circling it slowly, driving me insane with anticipation. I could almost feel the ghost of his touch, the way he would sometimes pinch, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me gasp.
reath hitched as my fingers mimicked the sensation, pinching my n*****s, pulling gently til they were hard and aching. I imagined Dalton’s teeth grazing my skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
A shiver ran through me, and it wasn’t from the cold. My knees wobbled. I bit down a sound that wanted to rise, swallowing it like shame. This wasn’t real. This was fantasy. Desperation. But my body didn’t care.
My fingers circled slow, teasing the sensitive flesh, and in my mind, it was their hands, guiding me, claiming me, dragging me deeper into the kind of madness I’d spent weeks pretending didn’t exist. I parted my folds, slick with anticipation and longing, and slid a finger inside.
“Fu.ck,” I whispered, forehead still pressed to the wall, the water pounding against my back like a drumbeat. The pressure was building, a tight coil of need that threatened to unravel me completely.
Every movement sent sparks up my spine, pressure building inside me like a tide. Hot. Relentless. My breaths came fast, ragged, and the tile fogged under my lips.
I wanted this. No-I needed it. Needed to take back power in the only place I still had control. Or maybe I was just fooling myself. Maybe they already owned pieces of me I’d never meant to give. Maybe this was just another way of surrendering.
The circling intensified, the pressure unbearable. I pushed harder against my own fingers, seeking release, chasing the phantom sensations of their touch.
When it hit, it came like thunder-sharp, blinding, a pulse that arched through me and left my legs trembling. I rode the wave with a choked sound, a whisper of their names tangled in my throat.
And then silence.
Just the sound of the water.
And my heartbeat, slowing.
I stood there a moment longer, shame and satisfaction coiling in equal measure beneath my skin. I washed the evidence away like it meant something. Like I could rinse myself clean of what they made me feel.
But some things don’t scrub off. Some things sink too deep.
And Derrick and Dalton… they were already under my skin. Etched into my bones. A permanent reminder of the darkness that resided within me, and the dangerous pleasure I found in it.
‘they could be our dirty little secret’ Summer whispered ‘ I’m sure if you just give them a glimpse, they’ll be more than willing to be our little puppets’. and i should have screamed at her. but I did’t. ’cause deep down, the idea was already in my mind.
DALTON POV
I was having dinner with Derrick. I know, kinda unexpected.
We hated each other. Or at least, we were supposed to. But lately, I was starting to see something twisted in that hate. A shared obsession. A common thread. And I had to talk to him about what I overheard from the Hollowed Moon twins.
I knew he’d be just as pissed as me.
When I approached him in the hallway earlier, asking if we could grab dinner together, he didn’t react like he normally would. No snide comment. No eye-roll. He’d been… suspiciously polite.
Weird as fu.ck.
Now we were sitting across from each other in a shitty diner just off the academy grounds. The kind of place with cracked leather booths and a waitress who didn’t give a damn about who we were, as long as we tipped well.
“So,” I said, drumming my fingers on the table.
“So,” Derrick echoed.
“I have to talk to you about something.”
More Kickass Werewolf Reads
Dive into our collection of free werewolf romance novels—where fierce Alphas, daring heroines, and heart-stopping twists await. Every story burns with forbidden desire, loyalty, and destiny. Don’t wait—here’s a world where love bites hard and nothing is stronger than the call of the mate.
Leave a Reply