Page 63 of Crying Wolfe
Rather than shrink from his untampered power, she surged against him with a harsh sound ripping from her throat.
For a moment he’d realized, not for the first time, how easily she’d break. How small her bones were.
How could someone so damned fragile possess the power to destroy him?
The thought was sobering enough to stop him. If she’d wanted to, she’d have been able to pull away. To run.
But she chose that moment to score her nails down the front of his shirt, and in doing so, she untethered the last of his control from this beast of lust he’d become.
The one with teeth and claws.
Cupping her neck, he kissed her hard. Dominating her with his mouth. Fucking her with his tongue.
Warning her what was about to happen.
Threading his fingers in her hair, he curled them into a fist, imprisoning her head as he rotated her away from him and bent her over the outline of an ironing table.
A whimper escaped her when he nudged her feet apart with his own.
But she made no move to stop him.
Tossing her skirts above her waist, he ignored a soft gasp as he rent her drawers in half and discarded them at her feet.
It was a bittersweet hell not being able to see her bent for him like this. He could imagine the pouty lips of her pussy splayed beneath the soft curve of her ass and the sight would probably have made him come in his own hand.
He found the smooth curve of her hip in the darkness, traced the cleft of her ass down to find the slit that instantly drenched his hand with desire.
He relieved himself from his own trousers, and drove into her with one savage thrust, branding her with the iron heat of his need, not stopping until he’d ground the bones of his hip against her.
Home. He gasped out a hard breath of relief.
She made a sound he couldn’t identify, her feminine muscles clenching against his intrusion like a velvet fist.
Even in the red haze of his fervor, he was able to still. To seat himself deep within her and soak in the sensation of just being there. Waiting for her soft, tight core to give way to his intrusion.
Sweat bloomed beneath his suit and against his hairline. His teeth clenched. Muscles bulged. After a few pulsing moments, her body relaxed, accommodating his girth.
It was what he’d needed.
Fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass hard enough to bruise, he drew back to the tip and surged forward again, and again, and again with deep, devastating thrusts.
Agonizing pleasure threatened to sweep him immediately away, but he held it at bay, needing to indulge in this insatiable perversion he’d developed for his wife. He held her hair in an unyielding grip as he surged forward, feeling every feminine muscle clenching around his shaft.
“Eli,” she gasped.
He barely heard her over the sounds of his hips slapping against her ass. Of hard, wet flesh pistoning against tight, wet flesh.
He bent over her, curling his wide shoulders against her slim ones, stinging into her with swift curls of his spine. “Don’t ask me to stop,” he growled, though it escaped closer to a plea than he’d intended.
“No,” she said around a tight whimper. “No. I’m going to… It’s coming. I’m afraid I’ll…I’ll scream.”
Fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing she’d ever said.
Eli covered her open mouth just in time. She buried a strangled cry against the rough skin, then another as she bucked back against him. Twisting and writhing, pulling and arching as her intimate muscles clenched and pulsed.
He fought his own release valiantly, and won, too, until her sharp little teeth bit into the fleshy pad of his palm.
The pain seared him so sweetly, he barely had the time to clamp down on his own thunderous cry, nearly biting off his tongue in order to do so.
