"Right now, there's something I'm much more interested in doing," he said, turning her to face him.
"Is that so?"
"I want more of those kisses, because I'm a greedy man. Am I wrong in assuming you feel the same way?"
"You're not wrong at all." Her eyes searched his. "Kiss me before I go crazy thinking about tasting you again."
"Just kisses?" he asked, wanting to be sure.
"And more, if you want." She sucked in a breath. "I need you."
"You have me."
His mouth covered hers and gave her what she'd asked for. Delved his tongue into her heat, tasting spicy wine. All woman. She pulled back first.
"Oh, Ryon. Make love to me," she whispered. "Now."
He blinked, unable to believe his ears. What he'd done to deserve such a priceless gift, he didn't know, no more than he knew how to go about telling her the rest of the truth. Putting that out of his mind, he concentrated on his woman. Could he please her? Whether his experience was a blessing or a curse, he wasn't sure.
They only got as far as the living room before he stopped. Undressed her slowly, revealing each beautiful layer of Daria. In wonder, he eased her to the floor and then skimmed his palms down the graceful curve of her neck, to her slim shoulders, careful to avoid bumping her casted arm. The limb was probably okay, but he couldn't be too careful. He brushed his fingers across the swell of her breasts, her puckered little nipples. Marveled at the sensation, the pleasure of touching her at last.
Fascinated, he rolled the taut peaks between his fingers, pinching them lightly. Bracing her weight on her elbows, she leaned back, spreading those long, toned legs. Offering herself to him.
Her pink slit glistened, begging for his attention, and he groaned. Drinking in her natural beauty, his heart pounded at the base of his throat. She was all tanned skin, curvy breasts, and lean hips, a dark nest of curls at the vee of welcoming thighs.
He stood next to her, unzipping his jeans, pushing them past his hips. His erection sprang free, hot and hard. Throbbing to the point of real pain. Already, a drop of cum beaded at the head of his penis. He and his wolf strained, eager for fangs and cock to be buried deep, to shoot inside her heat.
But he couldn't claim her properly. Not until she knew she was his mate.
Smiling, she sat up on her knees and tugged his jeans to his ankles, pulling them as he stepped free. She laid them aside and wrapped her fingers around his erection, stroked and swirled the pearly drop around the head of his penis. He gasped at the wonderful, wicked bolt of desire sweeping him.
"Daria, I'm not going to last," he croaked. "I can't-"
"Shh, it's okay. Don't hold back."
Her tongue laved the tip, licking away the sticky wetness as she continued to pump his shaft. He shuddered, balls tightening, the heat rising in his loins, on the verge of losing control too soon. Her other hand found his sac, kneaded gently, and his breathing hitched.
Unable to help himself, he let his gaze drift down to watch. The sight nearly undid him. Beautiful Daria, kneeling between his spread legs. Working his cock with her silky touch, her warm, wet little mouth. Taking obvious enjoyment in reducing him to a mindless puddle. Demanding all of him.
Oh, yeah. She can have me. Whenever, however she wants.
She took his length deep, sheathing his cock to the very base. He buried his hands in her hair, closing his eyes in ecstasy. Hers now. All hers.
"Daria! Oh, God."
He pumped his hips slowly, in tandem to the pull of her sweet mouth. She sucked eagerly, teeth scraping, tongue sweeping the ridge of his penis. So damned good. He wanted more. Harder, deeper. How could she take all of him? He didn't want to hurt her.
Then he wasn't capable of thinking anymore. She grabbed his hips, urging his thrusts. There was nothing but the rising throb of heat threatening to burst him into a million pieces. Blow him apart.
"Yes, baby, yes!"
He gave himself over. To Daria. Gave her what they both wanted. Fucked her mouth, hard and fast. Just like that, fuck yeah, so good . . .
With a hoarse cry, he stiffened. Shot down her throat, pumping on and on. Riding the waves crashing through him until he stood trembling on legs that barely held him upright.
When the last of the aftershocks had faded, she released him and wiped her mouth with the edge of her discarded shirt. His rubbery knees folded and he sank down in front of her. She looked at him with a saucy grin, and his heart turned over. For a second, he'd been afraid of how she'd react to their lovemaking.
Unbidden, a surge of raw emotion took him by surprise. For the first time in as long as he could remember, happiness swelled in his chest. And a fierce protectiveness. His mate. Mine. He didn't want to try to examine the powerful feelings any further right now. But looking at the ominous cast on her arm, he knew he'd send the white bitch wolf responsible straight to hell.
"Mmm." She slanted him a sexy look. "I loved doing you. I think you've corrupted me."
"I hope so." He enjoyed her laugh. "It occurs to me that you didn't get any attention."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"This."
Taking her chin, he kissed her. Reveled in the dark flavor of himself on her lips. Him, and no one else. Ever again. The knowledge aroused him all over again, his half-softened cock waking anew. Thank God for shifter stamina.
He laid Daria back gently, following her down. Cradling her, he pressed butterfly kisses to her lips, nose, chin, forehead. She rested a hand on top of his head, running his hair through her fingers, and he loved the sensation.
Dipping lower, he turned his attention to her breasts. Capturing one tight pebble in his teeth, he groaned, sucking it. Feasting like the starving man he was. She arched into him, gripping his head, gasping encouragement. He swirled one peak, then the other, as one hand skimmed down her flat belly.
His fingers found the springy nest of curls, and lower still, to her wet sex. Her thighs parted for him, hips urging his touch. He stroked the hot, sensitive nub, the pouting lips, slick and ready for him. Suckled her breasts, teased her clit until she writhed, unable to take any more.
"Ryon, please," she moaned, yanking his hair. "I need you inside me."
He lifted his head, regret spearing his gut. "Shifters don't need protection for STDs, but we do unless you want to risk a small complication." He didn't add that a wolf shifter could not impregnate anyone but his mate-and that she was at risk.
"I'm on the pill, and I'm healthy," she insisted, eyes searching his.
Her words sent a thrill through him. "Daria, sweetheart, are you sure?"
"Yes! Please, just make love to me."
He needed no further encouragement. Positioning his body over hers, he guided the tip of his penis to her moist opening. Worked it in slow, making certain he wouldn't hurt her.
And in one long, delicious stroke, pushed deep. Her tight sheath gripped his cock with silken heat. She clutched his shoulders as he began to pump. In as far as possible, his balls rubbing against her bottom. Relishing the feeling of being buried inside her. Then out, inch by wicked inch. Skin deep, inside her again. Wanting to crawl in and never come out. Fusing their souls.
Never, ever anything like this. The power of their connection, that physical bond, shook him. Humbled him. She was a gift, a treasure. Mindful of her arm, he held her close, making sweet love to her right there on his living room floor.
Her nails dug into his back. "Oh, yes, yes. Faster!"
The feral wolf in him came undone, howled in triumph. Mine. He barely resisted sinking his fangs into her shoulder. Clutching her tight, thrusting hard, their bodies slapping together. Hot, blazing, burning him up. Higher and higher. Going to freaking explode.
"Come with me," he demanded.
Hips bucking, she cried out. Her release shattered him. Seated deep, he let her carry him over the edge, into oblivion. Her orgasm milked his cock as he spurted into her, harder than before. More than he'd thought possible.
Raising his head, he looked into her face and swept a damp tendril of hair from her eyes. She gazed at him, smiling dreamily, a woman well satisfied. A new emotion clogged his throat.
One he wasn't brave enough to name. Yet.
Chapter Seven
It was deliciously decadent, lazing on the floor with Ryon after making love. In the middle of the afternoon.
Her buttoned-up ex-fiance had never committed a spontaneous act in his life. Much less anything that involved getting naked and messy.
As soon as the uncharitable thought crossed her mind, she felt bad. It really wasn't fair comparing two men who were so different. Ryon was an open book, his smile honest, his handsome face reflecting his love of life. Of laughter, his friends, the poor creatures like Chup who were displaced in a strange world. The exact opposite of her ex, who'd never had time for much of anything but his own career.
Head resting on Ryon's chest, she trailed her fingers through the crisp, dusky hair that was a darker shade than what was on his head. She teased each nipple, enjoying the way the brown disks puckered into tight points, then skimmed her palm lower, stopping at the intricate tattoo on his left hip. The artwork was a wolf's head, ears laid flat against his head, muzzle snarling fiercely in the direction of its owner's belly button. The ink appeared black at first, but upon closer inspection she saw it was actually a dark blue. Very, very fetching.
"I love the tat," she said, running a finger over it in appreciation. His abdomen quivered at her attentions and she smiled against his chest.
"Thanks. It was a moment of insanity, I suppose."
"Why do you say that?"
"Hurt like a bitch. I'll never get another one-that's for sure."
"You can fight vampires, nearly get gutted, then go back to battle again without batting an eyelash, but you won't get another tattoo?"
He made a noise of agreement. "Damned straight. Nothing like having to hold still for the torture when I'd much rather go down swinging."
"Well, it's nice. I'm glad you got this one." Sitting up, she sat and traced it. "I noticed some of the other guys have them, though they're each a bit different. Was it some sort of team thing?"
"Yeah." His voice got quiet. "All of us who were in the Navy SEALs together and got turned went out and got them when we first formed the Alpha Pack. We did it to remind us what we'd become, and as a solidarity thing."
Daria thought that was really cool, but from his tone she guessed he might not, so much. It seemed like a serious occasion to his team, having the tats done. "Will you tell me the story of how you were attacked and turned?"
"One day," he said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, it's none of my-"
"No, don't apologize." Sitting up, he reached for her cheek, stroked it. "That's just a dark story for such a nice day. I don't want to ruin our evening."
"Well, okay. As long as I didn't overstep."
"Of course not." He was silent for a moment, then studied her thoughtfully. "You make the ghosts go away."
"What?"
"I mean literally. I told you we all have Psy gifts in addition to our ability to shift? Well, mine are that I can see spirits-sometimes communicate with them, though that's rare-and speak in peoples' minds. I'm a Channeler and a Telepath."
"Wow." She didn't know what else to say. "Do you see any ghosts right now?"
"No. That's what I meant before. You make them go away," he said in disbelief. "I just realized that when I'm with or near you, they don't hound me."
If she wasn't able to astrally project, she'd think he was one brick short of a load. "I'm glad about that. I can't imagine what it would be like to have ghosts following you everywhere like you're the Pied Piper."