The sound of tearing was mixed with that of our desperate kissing.
She ripped my top from me, tearing it away, ripping the collar around my neck. The ruined top fell from me.
We rolled again.
She was on top of me. Kissing down my jaw, down my neck.
She bit me.
A wave of arousal coursed through me at the feeling of her teeth on my neck.
I bucked against her.
“Cole, please,” I begged. “More.”
Her bite became harder, and I whined low, bucking against her, needing her, needing her everywhere.
She released my flesh and placed wet open kisses down my neck, my chest, popping my breast free from my bra. She engulfed my nipple into her hot mouth and sucked.
It was as if my nipple was directly linked to my clit; they throbbed in sync.
“Fuck,” I cried.
“Mine,” Cole growled.
Her eyes were dark, her pupils exploded like that cold night weeks ago. She was more wolf than woman.
It excited me.
I felt myself becoming so wet, sloppy, ruining my panties.
I didn’t care.
I wanted them gone.
I wanted everything between us gone.
She sucked hard, pulling me closer with her arm around my lower back.
When she released my nipple, she blew cool air against the sensitive tip, and it created a pleasant shiver down my spine.
I kissed her, pulling her face to mine.
She tore her lips from mine and continued kissing down my chest to my navel, her hands ripping open my jeans as if there wasn’t time to undo them.
I heard the metal button hit the wall.
She pulled everything—my jeans and panties—down my legs together.
I helped to kick them off.
And then her head was between my legs.
No hesitation.
No pause.
I was in her mouth.
