Page 51 of The Thief

Savored me.

I remembered the slow and rhythmic way he kneaded dough in the kitchen—the seductive visual of how patient he was. How determined and eager.

Bear’s hands were the most sensual thing I’d ever experienced.

I’ll never look at bread the same way again.

His beard brushed against my tummy as he slowly laved my breast. Despite their small size, he took his large hand and kneaded one while he sucked on the other. Then he blew on my nipples until the skin puckered and swelled into hard points.

A voice in my head warned me to extinguish the fire before it consumed me, but my traitorous body refused to listen.

At the foot of the bed, he lifted my leg and kissed my ankle while massaging my calf.

Those hands.

The foreplay dragged out until I lost all concept of time. Had any man ever made me feel this way?

Bear’s soft lips kissed my knees, and I almost laughed from the tickle of his beard until his tongue swiped the inside of my thigh. Sucking on my soft flesh, he suggestively kissed until his heated breath caused my thighs to relax and open.

I twisted the pillow in my grip. “I feel like a can of soda someone shook up. I’m not gonna last.”

Bear hovered over me. “Do you want to stop? We can stop.” His mouth found a sensitive spot below my ear. “But I can also do a lot more to your body.”

Instead of answering, I gripped his pajama bottoms and pulled them halfway down. His erection caught in the waistband before it sprang out. I ran my hands over his perfectly shaped rear end—something I’d wondered about whenever I saw him in jeans.

Bear relaxed on top of me and rocked his hips, his hard shaft grinding against me.

“Turn over,” he said with a throaty growl.

When I lay on my stomach, I wasn’t expecting what happened next. Instead of plunging inside me, Bear kissed between my shoulder blades with the tenderness of a lover.

Then he gave me a back massage.

Not just any old back massage but one that could have easily put me to sleep under any other circumstance. Except his hands kneaded their way to my lower back, and when he rubbed my upper thigh, I lifted my hips.

That elicited a feral growl. His teeth nipped my left cheek, and his fingers stroked my core. Shocked by the intimacy of his touch, I whimpered against the pillow.

His hungry mouth kissed my nape, his breath hot as he continued stroking me. “Spread your legs.”

I pushed the fluffy pillow aside and did as he commanded.

The blunt head of his shaft stroked my slick seam without entering. When he did it again, I let out a soft moan. I loved the silky feel of him.

My wolf howled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sensing his hesitation.

“It’s not you.” He kissed my shoulder. “This is the way I always do it. Them looking away. I want to see your face.”

Wolf Shifters preferred it from behind since that’s the way our animals did it. His voice was uncertain, as if I’d judge him for it.

I turned over and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. “You can have me any way you want.” Stroking him up and down, I asked, “Can I sit on your lap?”

He growled his approval. “Where do you want me?”

I let go. “On the sofa.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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