Back Cry Wolf
Chapters (26)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Charlie Adhara
  3. Dedication
  4. Author Note
  5. Quote
  6. Prologue
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Epilogue
  21. Acknowledgments
  22. About the Author
  23. Fifeshire, Scotland, 1928
  24. LGBTQ BPA
  25. About the Big Bad Wolf series
  26. Writing for Carina
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His whole body convulsed with the relief and his vision went momentarily fuzzy, unfocused. Cooper just froze there for a second, letting Park suckle him, before he felt one hand come up to grip his ass.

Park tugged, urging him to thrust, so Cooper did. Holding Park’s head in place, he humped his face carefully, feeling the tight, wet grip and give of his mouth. He didn’t stand a chance of lasting. He’d been strung along the edge too long and Park felt too good.

“I’m—” He tried to pull back, but Park dragged him back down, urging him farther, deeper, tilting his head to open his throat.

Cooper’s orgasm didn’t hit him so much as he hit it at a running tackle. He felt it sweep through his body like a wildfire of paradoxes. He was the most powerful creature on earth; he was utterly defenseless in the grasp of his own pleasure. He was flayed open and terrifyingly vulnerable; nothing could ever hurt him again.

Soon, the flood of hormones receded like the tide, and Cooper pulled out, fascinated by the stretch of spit and come that tied him to Park’s lower lip like a thread of fate, until it collapsed. Park coughed beneath him, and slight tears escaped the corners of his eyes. Despite this, he seemed reluctant for Cooper to dismount, clutching at his legs.

“Just for a minute,” Park whispered, voice a gravel of glass. “Just—hold me down for a minute. Please.”

Cooper thumbed a tear away, slid down and positioned himself lying on top of Park, so that the full weight of Cooper’s body covered his. He held Park’s wrists, one in each hand, pressing them firmly to the floor by Park’s head, then tucked his face into Park’s neck. Cooper dragged his mouth and teeth across the skin there in the rough draft of a kiss and felt Park’s body go utterly lax beneath his.

“You are my favorite part of living,” Cooper whispered. “I’d do anything for you.” It was a confession more than anything else. Not necessarily something he thought was right or took pride in, but dug from the deepest and most private part of his mind, unsightly and true.

“I’m yours,” Park murmured simply. And for the first time, Cooper didn’t see it as having a power and dominance over him that he’d never wanted, but as a rare and fragile responsibility that Park had gifted Cooper in love.

Chapter Nine

Apparently, one did not arrive fashionably late to a conservation gala. When Cooper and Park showed up—still very much on time despite second showers, some spot cleaning and quite a lot of emergency ironing—the Smithsonian Natural History rotunda was already teeming with people.