His words were driving me crazy. It felt like he was inside my head, like he’d read all my thoughts and knew the exact words I’d been longing to hear. I pulled my finger out, drawing a small sound of protest from him. I rubbed my erection up and down his crease. What I saw gave me pause. A mild feeling of alarm. My musculature wasn’t the only thing my designation as alpha had inflated. My dick was throbbing. It was so long and so swollen, it looked too big to be practical.

Nerves pooled in my belly. “Jules, I don’t know. I’m scared I’ll . . .”

“I’m not scared.” His voice was steady. Clear as a bell.

“What if I hurt you?”

He looked back over his shoulder. “You won’t. There’s nothing you could do that could hurt more than the emptiness hurts. Nothing, I swear.” He moaned and moved one hand toward his lower belly. His breathing was short and labored as another heat wave hit him. He arched his back deeper and spread his legs more. He was as open and available as it was possible for a man to be. “Please, Sully.”

There was something familiar in his voice. A sweetness, almost. For a second, he sounded like Jules. Just Jules. My first and best friend. I couldn’t resist him. I lined myself up, holding my dick in one hand and his hip in the other, and I started to push. He was tight. God, he was tight. But he was slippery too. Slick and wanting. Instead of flinching, he pushed back. He made a long, keening sound as I breached him.

“Are you okay?” He made the same sound from before. “Talk to me, Jules.”

“Not pain,” he panted. “Not pain . . . it’s not pain. It’s . . . relief.”

I inhaled and exhaled deeply. My arms went limp, and I breathed pleasure in and out.

Relief.

I felt it, too. I wanted more. I needed more, so I thrust again, soft, shallow thrusts that nudged a little deeper each time. Each time, he pushed back to meet me. The friction felt good. It felt perfect. I lengthened my strokes and it made him moan harder. It made me moan harder, too. The pleasure was like nothing I’d felt before. It flowed up my dick and bled into my veins. It was magick. His breathing got louder. Harsh and uneven. I heard the sound of his nails clawing the rug.

“Jules, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

I withdrew my dick, so only my head was inside him, and I thrust all the way in.

“Aaargh, yes! There! Right there.”

I thrust again, same angle as before. “Is this what you want?”

“Yeah. God, yes. It feels good.” His words were drawn out, long and tortured, but they changed. They softened. “Does it feel good for you?”