CHAPTER 18 #2
I reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, feeling the ghost of my fingers against my own skin when I tried to rip it off him.
Michael released my neck and dragged his tongue over the wound.
Pleasure rolled through me in a long, hard shudder.
He leaned back on his heels and tugged his shirt the rest of the way off.
Dirt was smeared over the heavy muscles of his chest and stomach.
He looked down, saw it, and didn’t seem to give a single fuck.
His T-shirt hit the ground, and then he was back, hands braced on either side of me, hips pushing insistently against my own.
I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him closer.
He dropped those full lips to mine and kissed me, torturously slow.
With the bond open between us, there was no hiding.
He took his time, learning just how I liked to be kissed.
His tongue probed into my mouth and met my own, then retreated.
The warmth of his hand flared over my ribs and pushed up until his fingers brushed over my nipple.
I moaned into his mouth. He synced his movements, tongue and fingers and hips moving in tandem until I was so turned on, I felt like I could spontaneously combust. My desire echoed over the bond, so that Michael felt exactly what he was doing to me.
He broke the kiss only to murmur, “Your nipples are so sensitive. Even through these layers.” He made a low sound of male approval and gently squeezed one between his fingers. I arched up into him. “I could make you come like this.”
Yes. Yes, he could. And I could tell from his mounting arousal that he would come right along with me.
I leaned up and dragged his lower lip between my teeth, biting it hard enough to draw blood. Lust blew through him with a force that had us moaning into each other’s mouth.
Well, well, well. Michael liked it a little rough.
I growled and rolled us. He landed flat on his back, grinning darkly, beyond thrilled by the fact that I was able to pin him.
I paused and stared down at him. Before, I’d always had to be careful with the men I slept with.
Pleasure was distracting. Sometimes too much power leaked out of me and triggered their shift.
Talk about an awkward form of coitus interruptus.
I sometimes forgot my strength as orgasms built.
Once, I’d even broken a boyfriend’s hand—like, all the bones in it—when I grabbed it as I came.
And men, I’d learned, didn’t like to feel lesser than the women they were with.
They were the larger, physically stronger sex.
Many of my kind had been raised alongside humans.
They might have fought against human culture, but some of the subliminal misogyny from it always found a way through.
More than one wolf I’d been with had pursued me, thinking that they were drawn to my superior physicality only to then try to dominate me in some way.
I didn’t have to worry about any of that with Michael. He was almost as strong as I was, almost as powerful. And, unlike my previous partners, he actually reveled in the fact that I was damn near indestructible. It made me want him with a fervor that couldn’t be contained.
I sat back, between his legs, and dropped my hands to the top of his jeans.
With a flick of my fingers, the button popped loose.
Michael’s erection strained against the fabric, begging for release.
I looked up to see him watching me with hungry amber eyes as I slid his zipper down.
The smile on his face was a wicked thing, and he tucked his hands behind his head to get a better view.
I tugged his boxers down and freed his dick.
It was proportionate to the rest of him: wide and well formed.
He was so hard that it lay flush against his lower abdomen.
I reached out and brushed my fingers down its length.
I had to pause afterward, gasping, because it felt like I’d just stroked myself, too.
Michael let out a shaky breath. “When you said we shared pleasure, I didn’t imagine this. I warn you, I won’t last long.”
Neither would I at this rate. I’d barely touched him and already a familiar pressure building between my legs, which he could feel, which only increased his pleasure, which then rebounded back to me in a carnal vortex that threatened to drag us both under.
I leaned forward and licked the entire length of him, tasting salt and musk on his skin. His dick strained against my tongue. When I reached the tip, I opened my mouth and fastened my lips over the sensitive nerves of his head, sucking lightly. Pleasure burst from my clit.
Near desperate now, I fastened my lips over his girth and took the entire length of him into my mouth. His head hit the back of my throat, but he wasn’t big enough to cause me to gag, and I rejoiced in the fact that I was able to do this to him without fighting the urge to choke.
I swirled my tongue over the sensitive underside of his dick, twirled it around the base, and then sucked my way back up.
Two more strokes, and our orgasms threatened.
Michael didn’t have to warn me that he was close.
Nor did he have to ask me where I wanted him to come.
He knew what the taste of him was doing to me, that I craved the salty warmth of his release coating my throat.
I grabbed his hips and sucked him down harder, letting my canines gently scrape his delicate skin. It proved to be his undoing. He fisted his fingers in my hair and pumped into me, his dick swelling inside my mouth.
Yes, Michael. Come for me.
He lost the rhythm and called out my name like a benediction. I swallowed his release, struggling against the undertow of pleasure that threatened to drag me down.
Michael was on me before his orgasm fully passed. I blinked and landed flat on my back. He pushed my shirt and bra up, fastened his lips over my nipple, and shoved his hand into my pants so hard that a button popped off.
His fingers brushed over my clit and then pushed hungrily inside, demanding, ruthless.
I didn’t come. I disintegrated. There’s no other word for what happened to me, to us.
My orgasm hit with the destructive force of a tempest, dragging Michael into the wind field with me.
Light burst behind my closed eyelids, my spine bowed, and my inner muscles clenched down so hard on his thick fingers that he was forced to still them.
Afterward, he collapsed on top of me, both of us spent.
I clung to his shoulders, shaking. The sound of his ragged breaths filled my ears, and the taste of him coated my tongue.
A few seconds later, my vaginal muscles finally started to relax.
He tried to pull his fingers out of me, but the tightness of my jeans caused them to brush their entire length over my clit.
We both came again.
Not only did I lose math, but I forgot my own damn name.