Page 41 of Crowbar

I pulled back just enough to speak. “I’m not fragile.”

“I know. But your arm—”

“Is fine.” I leaned forward again, taking him back into my mouth until my jaw strained with the stretch. I didn’t care. All that mattered was the look on his face— like I was pulling him apart.

“Spencer.” My name was a choked sound. “Christ, your mouth…”

I hummed around him, setting a relentless rhythm—bobbing my head, twisting my fist at the base until his breathing fractured. Bitter pre-cum spilled onto my tongue and I swallowed without hesitation.

“You keep that up, I’m gonna come,” Crowbar warned.

Good. That was the point. I doubled down, sucking his cock harder, focusing my tongue just under the head until his thighs shook under my palm.

“Spencer.” A rough warning. “Baby, I’m—”

I pulled off with a wet sound and looked up. “I want you to fuck me now.”

Crowbar’s eyes went black. Not a metaphor. Pure black, like the wolf was right there staring out. “You sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His hands were under my arms, lifting me up from my knees like I weighed nothing. He guided me back to the bed with that same careful control. “On your back. Don’t want you putting weight on that arm.”

I lay down, watching him open the nightstand drawer. The sound of him rummaging through it was loud in the quiet room. He pulled out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms, dropping them onto the mattress beside my hip.

“We don’t need those,” I said, nodding at the condoms.

“Spencer—”

“I’m clean. Got tested after Ken and I split. And you’re…” I gestured vaguely at all of him. “I don’t know how werewolf biology works, but I’m guessing you can’t catch anything.”

“Can’t,” he confirmed. “And can’t get you pregnant either, if that’s a concern.” Crowbar chuckled.

“It’s not.” Heat flushed across my cheeks. “Just want to feel you. All of you.”

Something shifted in Crowbar’s eyes—dark, possessive. He tossed the condoms off the bed. When he climbed over me, his breath hit my cock, which was still hard and dripping against my stomach.

“Gonna open you up first,” he said. “Make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now.”

“You’re not.” The cap of the lube snapped open. He slicked two fingers, the sound wet in the quiet room. “Relax.”

My whole body was thrumming with need, muscles coiled tight. When his slick finger pressed against my entrance, I flinched.

“Breathe,” Crowbar murmured. “I’ve got you.”

I forced air into my lungs as his finger pushed slowly inside. The stretch was sharp and perfect, a burning fullness that anchored me here, now, with him.

“That’s it.” His finger worked deeper, curling just right. “Doing so good for me.”

A second finger joined the first, stretching me wider. My breath hitched at the intrusion, the overwhelming sense of being filled. Crowbar moved with deliberate patience, scissoring his fingers until my hips began pushing back against his hand.

“More,” I begged.

“Greedy.” Approval warmed his voice. A third finger pressed in, stretching me to the limit. My back bowed off the mattress as pleasure-pain sparked through me. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled. “Taking all three like you were made for it.”

Pleasure crested so sharp it was almost unbearable, his fingers finding that spot and staying there, working it with slow, deliberate strokes until my thighs shook and my vision blurred at the edges.