It's like an avalanche. Word avalanche. It slides down my mountain and lands on him. Everything just spills out. My confusion about us, not wanting to end up like my parents, the fact that my mom is probably out on a street corner or laying in a cemetery plot in the very city we're shacked up in. My fears about Dakon and how he'll end up now that I'm gone. It all comes out in a rush.

I realize half of what I'm saying doesn't even make sense. Some of it, he doesn't even have the background information to understand. He never tells me to slow down or stop. He never looks at me like I'm crazy. His face doesn't hold an ounce of confusion.

Wulf just lets me spill my words and vomit all the feelings I need to purge.

"Better?" he asks, hands still on my hips.

No. I frown.

Then I smile. "Actually, yes." Somehow I do feel better. Nothing about my circumstances has changed, but just saying it outloud cleared something in my head.

"Good," he says with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

We order churros and get the sheets covered in cinnamon sugar. His bicep is like a pillow under my head. He flips through the channels, turning on a movie, and we snuggle in closer together.

My leg wraps over him and I can feel his erection pressing to my thigh. He slides his hand up, resting it just below my ass. Moving his thumb in a steady motion, he swipes it back and forth across the softness of my skin.

Like the ticking of a clock, his movements count the seconds that pass by. His thumb brushes back and forth.

Slowly.

Back.

And forth.

It's a rhythm I feel through every bit of my skin. As he works his thumb over me, he moves up, gently lifting my shirt. When he touches my stomach he feels so hot he's almost cold. Like frostbite that burns.

"Are you going to let me touch you?" he asks low.

I swallow. "You already are."

His rough palm caresses my stomach and then slides under my bra. My body feels rigid and relaxed at the same time.

Weak in the knees was an expression I thought I understood. Now I know I do. My legs feel immoveable and my panties have a pool of wetness soaking through them.

"Wulf," I gasp as he teases the sensitive flesh of my nipple, testing my reaction.

"Look at me when you say my name," he says and does it again.

I try to show defiance in my eyes. But I have to look up at him, and I'm sure I have a pouty stare because his lips threaten to twitch up in that snarl he calls a smile. He knows he's winning and I hate him even more for it. I hate myself for doing what I always do- give in to him.

"Good girl," he whispers, brushing my nipple again and I shudder. I watch his hand work beneath my shirt, filling his palm with my breast. "I need you to be ready," he says, matching his cadence to the same rhythm his hands stroke my body with. He's feeding the flames of my desire. As he presses me closer to him, I feel the strength of his own flames as well.

An audible swallow happens as I wet my throat.

"You need to learn to take what I'm going to give."

My head feels like I have no brain matter left. I can't even process his words. I know though, like everything he says, there's a hint of threat. An underlying tone that says- don't disobey. Sometimes I want to, this time though I don't.

Now, he starts to slide his hand down. In a fluid motion, he dips into the front of my sleep shorts. The last thing I see is his name across his knuckles before his hand disappears. Another subtle reminder that I'm his.

I've moved so now my back is resting on his chest. We both watch him tease me, never pulling down my pants. My breath is ragged as I writhe beneath him, needing more of his touch.

"So wet," he whispers as he dips one- two- three fingers in me. I gasp, tensing around him. "Let me stretch you baby," he purrs into my ear.

This feels like the most I've ever taken. "Wulf," I whimper and try to sit up on the bed. Moving with me, he doesn't let me shy away from his touch. His fingers are barely past his second knuckle but it feels like his entire hand.

He slides them gently, his palm pressing to my clit, reminding me how good he makes me feel. As I start to melt against him, he whispers praises in my ear. I can barely keep my eyes open and my hips chase his fingers. "Wulf, please," I whisper.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he kisses down my neck.

"Please. Fuck me."