His breath shuddered against her skin. She felt the scrape of teeth—sharper than they should be, his wolf surging forward—before he raised his head.
“Not like this. Not yet.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
His grin was pure, wolfish wickedness. “I’m going to prepare you first. Then I’m going to mark you where the whole world can see you belong to me.”
He rolled off her, yanking the tangled sheets away with one smooth motion. Her shirt went flying across the room, followed by her pants. His claws hooked in the waistband of her underwear and then they were gone as well.
“You’re very hard on my underwear.”
“Then stop wearing it. It only gets in my way.” He stretched out beside her, all corded muscle and tanned skin in the afternoon light, that wicked gleam in his eyes. “And now I play.”
His fingers traced delicate patterns on her bare skin, making her shiver. She arched into him, already needy. This male—this wolf—had tapped into a part of her she hadn’t known existed, a primal well of desire that seemed to have no bottom.
He circled a taut peak, but avoided her nipple. She whimpered, trying to shift her body to force the contact. He chuckled. “Not yet.”
He continued the teasing circles until her whole body was quivering, then he lowered his head, capturing the other nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud until it was tight and aching.
She arched against him, her body already humming, ready for more. His teeth scraped along her collarbone, not quite breaking skin, and the jolt of pleasure-pain nearly sent her over the edge.
“So responsive,” he murmured against her skin. “I could spend hours exploring this sweet little body.”
His other hand slid down her body, tracing her hip, the curve of her thigh, back up the inside, stopping just short of her core. She whimpered again, a desperate little sound that seemed to please him immensely.
“Patience, kitten.”
“Screw patience.”
He laughed, a low, husky sound that vibrated against her skin. He slid down her body, tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with his tongue, but studiously avoided the slick heat thatwas waiting for him. She gasped and tangled her hands in his hair, trying to guide him to where she needed him most. He shook his head, a slow smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Adrian, please.” Her voice was a ragged whisper.
“I’ll give you what you need, kitten. But only when I’m ready.” He shifted lower, pressing a kiss to her ankle. “Do you trust me?”
“I’m about to let a werewolf bite me. I think I’ve covered the trust portion of this relationship.”
“Smartass.” He moved higher, the scrape of his stubble a delicious friction against her calf, her knee, the sensitive skin behind it. “But I need you to trust me not to hurt you. Not to lose control. My wolf is on a very short leash right now.”
She watched him, watched the play of muscles across his back, the raw power contained in his large frame. He was holding back for her, fighting his own nature to give her this experience, this pleasure. And the realization was more intoxicating than any touch.
“I trust you,” she said softly. “Now, are you going to make me beg, or are you going to make me come?”
His eyes flashed gold. “Both.”
His mouth found her then, and she cried out, a sharp, desperate sound. He licked a slow, deliberate path from her entrance to her clit, savoring her taste as he went. He didn’t just lick. He worshipped her with his lips, his tongue, and the gentle scrape of his teeth against her inner thighs. When he finally slid a finger into her, and she bucked against him, her body arching off the bed.
He added another finger, stretching her, preparing her. He crooked them, stroking that sensitive spot inside her while he circled her clit with his tongue. She was lost. Lost in the sensation, lost in the sheer, overwhelming pleasure that built and built, a storm gathering inside her.
“Adrian,” she gasped, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm, seeking more. “Please.”
He sucked her clit into his mouth, and her world shattered. She came with a hoarse cry, her body convulsing, waves of pleasure washing over her, leaving her breathless and shaking. Before she could come down from the high, he flipped her over on her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this, kitten,” he growled. “All pink and wet and open.”
He entered her in one smooth, powerful thrust, and she cried out again, her body stretching to accommodate him. He was so deep like this, and she felt so full, so complete. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, then he began to move.
He set a punishing rhythm, his grip on her hips bruising. Each thrust pushed her closer to the edge, each stroke bringing a new wave of pleasure that threatened to drown her. She could feel his wolf, feel the barely restrained power in his body, the wild, untamed energy that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
