Page 68 of Wolf's Keep

“I have wanted this,” he said, his mouth dipping to her breast, nipping the underside, “waited for this,” his tongue flicking her nipple, her hands clenching in his hair, “for so long.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, starting a violent clenching of her pelvic floor. She moaned.

Firm hands spread her legs wider, his fingers teasing, brushing against her inner thigh. He ignored the little thrusts she made with her hips, her soft protests. She growled at him. He chuckled against her breast, his breath warm on her moist nipple. She grabbed his hand, pushing it where she craved his touch. With a flick of his wrist, he reversed the move, claiming first one hand then the other and pinning them above her head. He slipped his leg between hers, pressing his thigh against her, rubbing against her needy core. Her eyelids fluttering closed, she ground against his leg.

“Open your eyes. Look at me, Erin.”

The punch of command in his voice forced her eyes open, and she was drowning, lost in the swirling depths of his dark eyes.

He transferred her wrists to one hand, his free hand roaming over her body—a roll of a nipple wet from his tongue between his thumb and forefinger, a slide of his palm over her stomach and a squeeze of her inner thigh.

Shifting his leg, he cupped her mound. His fingers slid across her sensitized nub. She gasped, biting her lip to prevent crying out. He rubbed, pressing slippery circles around it, pinching and tapping. She struggled to free her hands. She wanted to touch, too, but his grip only tightened, holding her firmly in place.

Fingers sliding through her wet folds, he promised but did not deliver. She bucked against him. She needed. Shewanted.

“Gaharet.”

He slipped a finger inside her and she moaned, unable to hold back. His mouth captured the sound, his tongue thrusting in rhythm with his fingers in the age-old mimicry of sex. He slipped another finger in, scissoring them, pushing against her walls, owning her. She arched against him, her climax building, hips thrusting against his hand as she chased her release.

He growled, pulling his hand free. “No. Not on your own. Not until I am inside you.”

He braced himself on his elbows, shifting between her legs, rubbing the head of his cock in her slickness. The feel of him, thick and long and hot against her, so close, started an ache deep inside her.

“Please. I need… Gaharet…” Her voice faded on a breathy moan, as his cock ground against her clit.

“What do you need,ma petite pouliche? Tell me.”

“I need…you…now.”

He shuddered against her. “Let me make you mine.”

“Yes… Please.” She whimpered, a drawn-out sigh to the slide of his cock through her slick folds.

He nudged his cock at her entrance and thrust hard, filling her, seating himself deep. She cried out, clenching around him. He groaned. A strong, musky odor filled her nostrils, heightening her arousal. It faded as quickly as the strange cracking and popping sounds she could hear over his ragged breathing.

Or was it hers?

He began a slow grind, and she threw her legs around his hips, clasping her ankles together. She matched him, straining against him, taking him all, hips rising to meet him.

“Harder. Faster.”

He shifted the angle, thrusting into her, rubbing against her clit with each stroke, playing her body like a master musician. Never had she lost herself so completely to a man’s kiss, his caresses. She’d known it would be good, had feared its sublime power, but now she was here, with him deep inside her, she couldn’t imagine not wanting this again. He’d forever spoiled her for other men.

She tossed her head from side to side, her walls fluttering about him. So close. She wassoclose. Their sweat-slicked skin slapped together, her body tightening. She was so full of him in every way. She arched her back, crying out as her orgasm ripped through her. He released her hands, and she flung them around his neck, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her body shuddering. He stiffened, thrust deep, roaring as he came, spilling inside her. She clamped her teeth on his shoulder and bit down, muffling her cries as he pulsed deep inside her.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her with him, her body sprawled on top of him, still buried inside her. She trembled, residual spikes of pleasure shooting through her.

“You bit me,” he grumbled, his voice reverberating through her body.

Erin snuggled closer, wiggling against him, still breathing hard. He groaned, and she raised her head to look at him, questioning. Could he possibly want to do it again? Already?

His arms thrown back, resting under his head, he regarded her through hooded lids.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“What for—the biting or for wiggling?”

She chuckled. “Both.”

Erin rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart and his breathing as it slowed. Her gaze caught on something nestled in the dark hair of his chest. An amulet with the familiar howling wolf’s head. She picked it up and turned it over.

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