He would stop if she needed him to. A little of the fear drained away.
“Now you’ve made me anxious, so you should kiss me,” he said. “Can you dare that much?”
A kiss. She stared at him.
The sun lines at the corners of his eyes creased as he smiled. He didn’t have dimples—his jaw was too strong. He had a little dent in his chin. She’d like to touch it.
Surely, she could kiss him. She had before, just not as a prelude to… She rose up on her knees and was still too short. He didn’t move. Her hand shook as she put it behind his neck. His thick hair curled around her fingers as she traced out the lines of muscle. She pulled his head down and lifted her face.
His lips were gentle. Smooth. She brushed her mouth across his lips and started to pull back.
He murmured, “More.”
Her heart was beating fast, but she could breathe. His mouth opened under hers, his tongue tracing her lips. She shivered with the sensation. He nibbled on her chin, gently sucked on her lower lip, and swept his tongue inside.
Heat swirled low in her stomach, as he explored and coaxed her tongue into the play. A man’s lips felt different from hers. Firmer. When he rubbed his cheek over hers, his day’s growth of beard scratched lightly over her skin.
He lifted his head, his eyes warm. Intent.
Somehow, she’d leaned into him, and her breasts were flattened against his hard chest. She tried to draw back, but he put his hand behind her, stopping her.
“Is something too much, lass? Use your word if you need to.”
She stilled.
As he waited, his hand stroked slowly up and down her back. It was comforting, and yet the hardness of his palm through the flannel fabric was…arousing. “Breanne?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good lass.” The approval in his deep voice warmed her. “May I have a hug now? Can you dare that much?” Even as she was trying to decide, he pulled her arms up around his neck again and inched her closer until her knees rubbed his, and she pressed against him. “You feel good, mo leannan.” His arms tightened. “Kiss me again.”
She managed a shaky breath before tipping her head up. This time he took charge of the kiss, possessing her mouth so completely that her head whirled. His hands moved, down her back to cup her buttocks. To squeeze them through the flannel fabric. Arousal seeped into her blood.
He lifted his head to murmur against her lips, “We’re overdressed.” Button by button, he undid her pajama top, his gaze on what was being revealed.
As air brushed over her bare breasts, she grabbed his hands, then hesitated. This is what I want. “I can take off my clothes.”
His heavy-lidded gaze held heat along with a tenderness that turned her body to mush. “Why don’t you let me do it instead?” His gaze didn’t leave hers as he curved an arm behind her back. His other hand slid under the gaping shirt and over her neck, her collarbone. “You’re so pretty, little wolf, and your skin is so smooth.” He inhaled. “You smell like vanilla and sugar. I wonder—do you smell like that all over?”
When his palms grazed over her breasts, panic stabbed her. Her breathing hitched, and she tried to pull away, stopped by the merciless arm behind her.
He paused, waited, and stroked her again. This time she felt the warmth of his hand. His palm rasped over her skin, leaving tingling in its wake. Low in her belly, something tightened. Wanted more. Just like she’d felt at the Gathering.
He pushed her shirt off her shoulders. Naked from the waist up, she stared at him.
“By the God, you’re beautiful,” he said. At the speed of thick syrup, his hands slid over her arms and back to her breasts. Never getting close to her nipples, he caressed the tender undersides in a long, sweet stream of sensation. “Your breasts were made for a male like me with big hands. Touch me back, Breanne. I want your hands on me.”
She stared up at him, mesmerized by the sensations rippling through her.
He rubbed his nose on hers and made her smile. “Will you take my shirt off?”
His clothes. Her hands trembled as if she’d chugged a potful of coffee, but she managed to unbutton his heavy shirt and push it off his broad shoulders. She froze. No, Bree, you’ve seen him naked lots of times.
But this was different. He was touching her. She was touching him back.
Feeling as if she wavered on a precipice in a high wind, she ran her hands over his shoulders and down. He hummed with pleasure as she rubbed his pectorals, feeling the flat solid planes of muscles. The crispy hair across his chest curled like froth around her fingers as she explored his nipples—almost flat until they contracted to tiny points.
His shoulder muscles bunched as she stroked over them and down his arms. His rounded biceps were like granite. “You’re so hard. Such a guy.”
“And you’re a soft, soft female.” His voice held a distracting growl. When he took her lips again, he pulled her closer, flattening his hands on her back.
When her nipples rubbed the wonderfully abrasive hair on his chest, her head swam with the sensation.
He moved closer, and his erection pressed against her stomach, huge even through his jeans. The jolt of feat made her grit her teeth. A whimper still escaped.
Although he pulled his hips back a fragment of an inch, he kept stroking her back. His fingers made small dips under the waist of her pajama bottoms. “We’ll go slow, Breanne. You have a word to make things stop, remember?”
He wasn’t going to quit, she realized, with mingled anxiety and excitement. She gripped his biceps as his hands moved over her relentlessly. He kissed the curve of her neck, then her shoulders, and his lips were warm. The air thickened, and her body felt pliant, moving to his touch. She pressed closer.
With a low laugh, he pulled them over sideways onto the soft blankets, then with gentle, firm hands, rolled her onto her back. She stared up at him, her body tensing as she waited for him to fall on her.
Instead, he lay on his side next to her, raised slightly on his elbow. He studied her, his palm splayed open on her stomach. “You still with me here, little wolf?”
Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, and fear wavered like smoke around her, but her skin craved more of his touch. Her nipples were tight and aching. “Yes, big wolf.”
“There’s a brave female,” he murmured. He set his big hand on her shoulder—no worry there—then surprised her by stroking slowly down her front, skimming tortuous paths around the outside of her breast, doing the same on the other side with teasing slow movements.
Only now, every leisurely brush of his fingers sent a sizzle inward from her skin to where hunger pooled inside her. Needing to give him the same sensation back, she ran her hand down his chest and across the hard ridges of his abdomen.
A dangerous heat woke in his eyes. Leaning over her, he took her mouth again. His palm kneaded her right breast.
She gasped. His fingers fondled her, circling first one nipple, then the other. She couldn’t think as his tongue filled her mouth. He pulled back to bite her lips insistently, then kissed her even more deeply.
Her nipples ached, needing…and then his fingers closed on one and pulled lightly.
Pleasure blazed straight to her clit. Her fingers dug into his chest. “Mmmmh!”
His laugh was smoky and smooth. He opened her fingers, flattening her hand on his chest again, before returning to torment her breasts. He rolled one nipple between his fingers, and she arched against the exquisite feeling. “Ah, you are sensitive here, aren’t you,” he murmured. “Then you might like this.” Sliding down, he took a nipple between his lips, and the heat of his mouth on her skin bloomed inside her lower belly as well.
His mouth was soft and wet as he swirled his tongue around the aching peak. When he sucked, a stab of lust drove straight to her core. “Oh God.”
He stopped long enough to kiss her before he edged down farther. Drawing her pajama waistband down an inch, he licked across the exposed skin. Another inch. His tongue circled
her belly button and her skin shivered. Her hips rose slightly. Instinctively. Do more. No, don’t. “Shay, I…”.
Far too easily, he slid her pajama bottoms right off, leaving her bare. Big man, kneeling over her. Horror widened her eyes, and terror turned the heat to ice. “No. No, don’t.” Panting, she shoved at his hands.
“Breanne. Am I hurting you?”
In control. Firm. Her wolf responded to his voice. Her mentor. Shay. But she couldn’t get enough air.
“Am I hurting you? Tell me,” he ordered.
He wasn’t. He wasn’t even touching her. “No,” she whispered. A hard-won breath brought her his scent, not foul, but clean and wild. My Shay.
Beside her, the fire in the woodstove snapped, otherwise the world was silent. Snow would be falling outside.
His blue-gray eyes studied her, watching her expressions, her breathing. He recognized her fear; would he realize how much she needed to continue?
He stroked a callused hand down her stomach. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” But I’m naked. Scared.
He did it again, even slower, and this time her skin awoke to the glide of his hand. He ran one finger along the crease between her leg and her hip, and she shuddered against the heavy feeling growing inside her. His hand tingled over her inner thigh, and as he drew closer to her pussy, her insides tightened.
“Ah, there we go,” he murmured. “You’re with me again.” He nudged her legs apart, lowering himself between them until his breath brushed against her curls.
Oh heavens. The surge of need was as hot as at the Gathering and kept increasing as he kissed the delicate skin inside her thigh. He teased closer, just outside her labia. His hot tongue against her skin sent tension seething through her lower half.
When his breath ruffled her curls, her clit gave a demanding throb as if alive. Touch me.Her fingers curled in his hair.
He raised his head to look at her. The gaze trapping her own held heat. Pleasure. Understanding. As she stared helplessly at him, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Ready for more, are you, mo leannan?”
No. Yes. Please.
He slid his powerful hands under her bottom, lifted her slightly, and his mouth came down over her clit.
Hot. Wet. Lightning sizzled through her veins as her insides clenched. “Aaah.”
His laugh vibrated against the engorged nub and added more sensation before he murmured, “Nothing in the world tastes as fine as this.” His tongue teased around her entrance, over her labia, and circled back around her clit until every beat of her heart made it pulse.
He wedged his broad shoulders down, opening her farther, holding her legs apart.
Panic shivered through her, then he pulled one hand from under her bottom to run his finger between her folds, even as his tongue circled her clit. The trace of fear swirled away under the increasing heat.
Her insides tightened as he licked over the very top of her clit and down the other side. Fingers touched her labia, slick, teasingly circling her entrance, dipping in slightly. And then he pushed one thick finger inside her. Slowly. Firmly.
She stiffened at the agonizing rush of memories. “No, no, please.”
He lifted his head, his finger still in her. “Look at me, Breanne.”
Panting, despairing, she looked down into his confident…unrelenting…eyes.
“Trust me to take you through this, little wolf,” he said.
So much was swirling inside her, heat and fear tugging at her. And he knew. Between one breath and the other, she surrendered to his knowledge, his command. As he watched her steadily, her terror eased back, as if he’d stepped in front of her.
“Brave Breanne,” he murmured, kissing the inside of one thigh and the other. He puffed a warm breath over her damp curls, making her jump, then slowly pulled his finger out. Slid it back in. No pain, she realized. She was so wet.
As he moved it in and out, his lips closed on her clit, sending a spear of pleasure zinging through her. This time, his tongue flicked her roughly, and her pussy clenched on his finger, sending tiny cascades of sensation though her. Her fingers pulled his hair.
“Good lass.” His voice was deeper than normal, hoarser. His finger moved in and out, slowly, so very slick, not hurting at all. Then he added another. Filling her, stretching her.
Oh God, her clit felt even more swollen as everything he touched turned to seething tension. She was panting, not from fear, but arousal, and the room felt like a sauna. Sweat broke out all over her body.
As pressure coiled low in her pelvis, she moaned, unable to think as her world narrowed to his touch, his mouth.
His fingers moved faster, plunging into her, pulling out. His heavy knuckles added extra sensation. And then he sucked on her clit, rolling the sides between his lips and tongue. As the vise of pressure around the nub tightened so did the one inside her. Every thrust of his hard fingers, every flicker of his tongue, sent brilliant colors shooting through her, and she needed. Needed. Every nerve strained to come.
He growled and wiggled his tongue on the very top of her clit, pressing the hood back and forth. Like a fist, her insides gathered tight, tighter, and her muscles turned rigid, as she hovered on the precipice. And then the tension exploded. A million pieces of pleasure burst outward in a storm of sensation. Oh God. Another wave followed as she spasmed around his hard fingers. Another…
Her muscles released suddenly, and her hips dropped to the blankets.
He licked over her one last time, slowly pulling his fingers out, sending a smaller ripple of pleasure through her. The room seemed to shimmer with heat as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart pounded so hard that her breasts shivered with each beat.
Sliding his hands down her thighs, he pushed back to kneel between her legs. “You’re a delight, little wolf,” he said, smiling slightly, studying her face.
Half stunned, she stared up at him. Was this what normal women felt when they made love? No wonder Ashley had pitied her. Little shudders still rippled her muscles in tiny waves of pleasure. “That was…”
“Next step then, Breanne.” He leaned forward, running his hands up her body, and slowly lowering his body onto hers, covering her like a warm blanket.
She had a couple seconds of pure happiness, and then the reality of his weight and size hit. A storm of fear ripped over her, tearing her breath away, her mind…
She shoved against his shoulders, knowing only the weight. “No!”
He rolled off, but before she managed a complete breath of relief, he’d straddled her hips, resting on his haunches, not touching her anywhere. “Breanne. Look at me.” He grasped her chin. “Look at me, mo leannan.”
Filling her vision, his eyes were the color of the tiny lake he’d shown her one afternoon. Under his steady gaze, her panic slowed. Receded.
“Am I hurting you?”
She puffed out a breath, not sure if she was more exasperated with herself or the question. “No.”
“I’m going to lie on top of you again. You tell me if anything hurts.”
This time, she waited for the panic, but felt only pleasure as his legs fitted between hers and his hot body covered hers.
He took her mouth in a kiss, his lips demanding a response. “There’s a lass,” he murmured, propping himself up on one elbow. “Now we’re at the cliff. I’m going to enter you.” His eyes captured hers again. “Tell me if it hurts. What do you say if you want me to slow down?”
He waited patiently as she fumbled for the right word. “No.” Oh—she’d already said that, and he’d sat up. Talked. “Thank you.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’re welcome. What’s your word if you need to stop completely?”
“Elvis.” She frowned. “I still need to pay you back for letting me think you were a dog.”
“A wolf.” He gave her a wry smile. “After tonight, I’m not sure who will owe who. I need you so badly I hurt.”
Really? The truth showed in his strained expression. Y
et he wasn’t moving. Warmth filled her chest, not from the heat of sex, but his gentleness. Her heart ached with the need to satisfy him in return. “Can you kiss me and …” Go ahead before I chicken out.
He leaned down, his mouth covering hers, warm against her cold lips.
She felt his cock between her legs. Huge, thick, demanding entrance inside her. Her whimper sounded thin in the quiet room.
“Breathe, Breanne.” He reached down, swirling his fingers in her wetness. As he slowly stroked over her clit, sensations started to waken within her. She arched against his hand.
“That’s right,” he whispered, tracing lines of fire over her clit, and then she felt him entering her. Huge, surging slowly in, deeper. Stretching her…too much like… A vise closed around her ribs. Can’t.
“Little wolf.” He cupped her cheek with one big hand, tilting her face up, forcing her to see him. “Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head, panting a little, balancing on the edge of panic. She felt so full, stretched. Helpless.
His hand swept up and down her body, his hips not moving. Just petting her. Slowly she relaxed, and she realized his groin was against hers. He was all the way in.
“Brave little wolf,” he murmured. “You feel good, Breanne. Tight. Wet and hot. You’re squeezing me in a way that makes me want to howl.”
His fingers ruthlessly stroked her center back into need.
As arousal pooled low in her belly, he pulled out ever so slowly before thrusting in again, each move slightly faster than the one before. Her thighs tightened. Her hips tilted up against his fingers, and he went deeper. Each stroke of his cock, of his fingers, heightened the sensations bombarding her until her hips were bucking under him, her fingers clenching his hips.
His speed increased, and it felt good, ever so good. Each plunge was accompanied by a rough finger teasing her clit—she couldn’t tell which was driving her higher.
As her insides clenched around him, she met his thrusts with her own, and then it was too much. She needed more. Something more. She lost the rhythm.
Frustrated, she whined, her hips wiggling uncontrollably—sending his fingers sideways over her clit. “Oooooh.” Her core burst into a fireball of sensation that turned the entire room white. Heat surged in waves from her center outward, zinging all the way to her fingers and toes.
Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2) Page 23
