“Connor!” I yelped, twisting half around even though it was pointless because his hand was already there, on my breast, big and warm and soap-slick, pressing just enough to make my entire brain short-circuit like someone had poured water on a power line. “Oh my God! You are actually doing this! You are really-Connor! Oh my God, this is happening, I am dying, this is the day I die in a bathtub, this is it!”
His thumb brushed over my nipple and my lungs just quit working. My arms flailed like I was trying to grab the air itself for support because my body was not obeying me anymore, it was just sitting there melting into his hands like I was built for this, like I had been waiting for this, like my wolf had been praying for this moment since the dawn of time
“Connor, I swear I am going to faint,” I babbled, words spilling so fast I could not stop them. “This is a felony! A serious one! My ancestors are watching this happen right now, horrified, covering their eyes in the afterlife because their descendant has apparently turned into a cautionary tale about getting on yachts with older men who look like sinners in human skin. Oh my God, you are still touching me. You are actually pressing-Connor!”
His hand curved heavier over my breast, his thumb sliding slow again, his voice low against my ear like the devil himself had decided to speak directly to me.
“Hold still, pumpkin,” he murmured, teasing wrapped in every word. “I have not even started yet.”
**Lily**
“Connor!” I gasped, grabbing at the sides of the tub like it might save me from spontaneously combusting.
“Oh Fuck. You are using your hands like-like this is your job or something! People have careers in finance, in engineering, in marketing, but no, apparently your full-time occupation is emotionally compromising me in every body of water you can find!”
He chuckled low in his chest and leaned in so his mouth was close enough to my ear that his breath tickled when he spoke.
“Hold still, pumpkin,” he murmured. “I am getting you clean.”
“Clean?” I nearly shrieked, my voice cracking in the middle like a teenage boy because his fingers had found both breasts now, his palms sliding soap and water over them before his thumbs dragged across my nipples again in circles that made my wolf throw herself against the inside of my skull like she wanted out.
“This is not clean, Connor! This is not what clean feels like! This is what sin feels like. This is what bad decisions feel like. I am going to need therapy. And holy water. And maybe an exorcism, because my soul is definitely not surviving this.”
He moved lower then, soapy hands sliding down over my stomach, fingers spreading, pressing, exploring, teasing until I was babbling so fast I barely knew what I was saying anymore.
And the whole time he stayed calm. So calm.
“Look at you,” he said softly, voice thick with amusement, “squirming like second of this.”
I opened my mouth to tell him no, to scream at him, to swear on my life that I was not loving this, that I was not sitting here in his bathtub melting into his hands like my entire body had betrayed me, but the words did not come out like I planned.
What came out instead was a moan.
A real one.
Like a helpless, humiliating, I-have-no-dignity-left kind of moan that ripped right through my throat before my brain could even process what was happening.
My head fell back against his shoulder, my eyes fluttered shut, my chest rose up hard, and I felt my whole body arch into his hands like it had been waiting for this moment since birth.
“I… oh God… ohhh God…” My voice cracked so bad in the middle I sounded like I was trying out for some tragic soap opera. “Fuck, Connor… oh my God, I mean-ahhh Daddy!”
The second that word left my mouth, I wanted to throw myself off the side of the yacht because no, no, no, there was no way I had just said that out loud. Not here. Not like this.
Not when his fingers were circling my nipples under the water, slow and teasing and slick, like he was trying to carve that word right out of me on purpose.
My entire body went hot enough to melt steel, my pulse slammed so hard in my neck I felt dizzy, and my brain was screaming at me to shut up even while my mouth refused to listen.
Connor froze for exactly half a second. Then he leaned in closer until his mouth was brushing my ear, his breath warm and sinful against my skin, his voice dropping so low it was like a growl sliding over every nerve I had left.
“There it is,” he said, and I could feel the smirk in his words even though I could not see his face.”
Say it again.”
“No!” I yelped, my voice coming out half-choked because his thumbs were dragging across my nipples again, slow, steady, maddening, and my brain was collapsing in on itself like a dying star.
“I didn’t mean to-I swear I didn’t..I am never going to recover from this, Connor, never in my life, I am going to be eighty years old in a retirement home thinking about this moment and still cringing so hard my bones snap in half.”
He chuckled low in his chest, dark and amused, like he was enjoying every single second of my meltdown while his hands just kept moving, spreading soap over my stomach, my ribs, up, down, everywhere except where I was throbbing so hard I thought I might actually go crazy.
“Pumpkin,” he murmured, voice smooth enough to kill me on the spot, “I think you did mean it.”
My head was shaking before he even finished the sentence because my pride was hanging by a single fraying thread. “No, I didn’t!” I practically shouted, even though my voice cracked right in the middle and completely betrayed me.
“I do not mean anything I say when you are touching me like this! My whole brain turns into alphabet soup, Connor, I am not even responsible for my own vocabulary right now. This is your fault. Everything coming out of my mouth is your fault.”
He was not listening. Of course he wasn’t. His fingers were already circling my nipples again, slow and gentle but with just enough pressure to make my back arch helplessly out of the water like I was on a string he was pulling.
My legs were shaking under the surface, my breath was coming fast and uneven, and my wolf was throwing herself at the inside of my head like she was demanding I shut up and beg him to finish this already.
“Oh my God,” I moaned, my head falling back again because I had officially lost every battle with my own body. “I hate you so much. I hate you, I hate you, I hate-ahhh Daddy..oh God-I mean Connor! I meant Connor!”
His mouth brushed my ear again, his voice curling through me like smoke and thunder all at once.
No, pumpkin,” he whispered, his thumbs circling slow enough to make my toes curl. “I like you better when you say Daddy.”
The second he said it-“I like it better when you say Daddy”-my brain just flatlined. Like, lights out, nobody home, the last two brain cells I had left holding hands and jumping straight off the edge because apparently they could not handle this level of humiliation. My mouth was moving before my pride had even caught up.
“Daddy,” I whispered, and then my voice cracked because my dignity had already packed its bags and fled the country. “Daddy… my Alpha… Daddy, please. I wanna… oh my God, I wanna please you too. I want to…”
“
My cheeks were burning so hot I thought the steam might actually be coming from me instead of the water. “I want to stroke you with my soapy hands and… oh my God… I want you to have me here.”
The second it was out, I slapped a hand over my mouth because I could not believe I had just said that. Out loud. Like some shameless lunatic possessed by bathtub demons.
My entire body felt like it was vibrating, my wolf was howling in triumph, and Connor just sat there behind me, broad chest solid against my back, so calm he might as well have been reading the morning paper while I was falling apart in his lap.
“Oh, you are naughty,” he murmured, his voice dropping low enough to slide right down my spine.” You want Daddy to have you in the water, hmm?”
I made this sound. Like a half-choked gasp, half-squeak, because apparently I was physically incapable of holding on to my last shred of dignity.
“I..oh my God..yes,” I blurted out because my mouth hated me. “I mean no, I mean… I want to… please you… but also yes? I do not even know what I am saying right now, Connor, you broke my entire vocabulary along with my morals.”
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his words curling through me like smoke and fire all at once.
“Come here,” he said softly. “Stroke me with those soapy hands, pumpkin. Since you are begging so nicely.”
My heart slammed so hard it hurt. I was shaking so badly the water rippled all around me. “Oh my God,” I babbled, turning toward him while my entire brain screamed at me to shut up and my body refused to listen.
“This is insane, this is completely insane, do you know that? Nobody does this, Connor! Nobody sane climbs into a bathtub with an eighteen year old girl and tells her to-oh my God, I am actually doing it, I am really doing this right now.”
My hands were trembling as I reached for him under the water, the heat from his body mixing with the steam until everything felt too hot, too close, too much.
The second my fingers wrapped around him, his breath hissed out through his teeth, low and sharp, and I thought I might actually faint right there.
“That’s it,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, deeper, while his hand closed over mine to guide me. “Nice and slow. Just like that.”
“Feel Daddy’s cock in your palms,” he said like he knew exactly what they were doing to my brain.” Hold it tight, pumpkin. I want you to feel how hard you make me.”
His grip tightened over mine, cutting off my babbling with slow, rough pressure as he made me stroke him even harder under the water.
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