She made him wait. A heartbeat. Two. The world stood still. Time faltered and his heart lurched. Her mouth engulfed him like a silken glove, slid over his cock, her tongue swirling under the head and up over it, teasing and darting around while she suckled.
His hips jerked. A sound escaped, something suspiciously close to a rough growl. Pleasure burst through him, rushing like a drug through his system. More than pleasure. Love. With his cock in her mouth, he doubted he should have been feeling anything but lust, but maybe love drove his lust for her, because he couldn't imagine another woman more beautiful, or sexier. He couldn't imagine feeling this desire, so intense it was a wild storm crashing through him, for anyone else. His breath exploded out of his lungs. His body shuddered as the fire raced up his spine.
She ran another long, slow lick up and down the shaft, watching him, watching his reaction. He felt her in his mind, sharing the fire, sharing each wave of sensation she created as she drew him back deeper, her mouth
hot and tight.
His hands bunched in her hair. His hips thrust forward, using his own hand to keep each forward movement short as he filled her mouth. Her tongue was a velvet rasp as she licked the underside, and then she was suckling again, drawing him deeper. Her eyes remained locked on his, tearing at his heart, his soul, as he watched her swallow him, watched raw desire heat her gaze.
She took him into her mouth, a long, slow draw, keeping her mouth tight, her tongue flat while she applied pressure and then whipped her head up fast, meeting his thrust, taking him deeper, so that streaks of fire spread through his groin.
MaryAnn felt her body going up in flames. Her breasts were swollen and aching, begging for attention. The junction between her legs throbbed and was drenched with heat. He was making rough sounds of pleasure, each one vibrating through her, so that the walls of her sheath contracted and rippled and begged for mercy. He was tugging at her hair with each thrust as he began to lose his control, pulling her toward him as his thrusts deepened.
«Harder,» he encouraged.
She felt him swelling and knew by his husky groan he was close. She couldn't move, locked beneath him, his hands controlling her head, the short, tight movements as her mouth moved up and down his shaft. He directed the arch of her neck, allowing her to take more of him.
«Relax your throat for me,» he instructed, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. «Yes. Like that. Like that. Squeeze down.» The thrusts were faster now, short and hard, but he used the leverage to go deeper, the tugs on her hair sending pulses of pleasure shooting through her body.
«You have to stop, sivamet» His voice was hardly his own, so gravelly, on the edge of desperation. Because he couldn't. Because even though he locked her down in the traditional way of his kind, he couldn't leave that hot, moist cavern, so tight as she suckled at him. It was such a carnal pleasure to indulge in, to be indulged. «Stop before it's too late.»
Traditional way of his kind. Where had that thought come from? Why did he have such a desire to hold her still while he plunged in and out of her incredible mouth?
MaryAnn wanted him, all of him, was desperate for him. She felt like a woman on the brink of sanity, starving for what he had to offer. His cock thickened. Jerked. Grew hot and full. There was something terribly erotic about lying all sprawled out, held tightly in place, knowing she was pushing him past all control, even as he was controlling her. She knew it was the wolf. She scented the musky call of the male wolf as Manolito thrust hard, his hands rough now, his cock jerking, the hot jets of semen exploding into her. It was the way of the wolf to dominate, and looking up at him, she could see the amber lights flickering in the black depths of his eyes.
He reached for her breasts, his fingers tugging at her nipples while her mouth pulled at him. Without warning, he simply bent over her, his long body covering hers, and buried his face between her thighs. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Her body bucked and writhed as his tongue stabbed deep. She was forced to turn her head and release him, and all he did was crawl up her body and pull her hips up to his marauding mouth. Her vision blurred. Her body belonged to him. To his hands and mouth and the long, muscled length of him.
I want your heart and soul.
The whisper would have stolen her last defense if she'd had any. You have them.
You are safe in my keeping. And she was. As long as he lived and breathed, beyond that even, he would protect and cherish her.
His tongue found slick heat, warm honey, and he indulged himself, holding her there easily while he took what he wanted. Her hips bucked, her breath came in sobs, as he devoured her. Her body was primed for him, already shuddering with her first climax, and he was throwing her into the second one with the dancing of his fingers over and in her. She cried out his name, music to him, the soft, ragged, breathy sound, barely audible when she ground against him in an attempt to get relief. Her releases only added to the pressure building, forever building until she was chanting, Please, please, please.
Manolito raised his head and pulled her around to him, lifting her upright into his arms, pushing up with his body while he held her until he was standing. «Wrap your legs around my waist, MaryAnn.» His voice was rough and mesmerizing.
«I don't have any strength.» She didn't, her arms and legs heavy, her body still shaking from the series of orgasms. Even so, she locked her fingers on his shoulders while she circled his body with her legs.
«I have the strength for both of us. Just hold on, sivamet.»
She locked her ankles and closed her eyes as he lowered her over him. The broad head of his cock drove through her soft, tight folds, the friction on her already-sensitive nerve endings making her cry out and bury her face against him. «I don't know if I can do this,» she whispered. «It's too much, every time, too much.»
How could she survive when her body was already in meltdown? Her need seemed unrelenting, the pressure building and building as he withdrew and her muscles tried to grip and hold him to her.
Manolito caught her hair and pulled her head up so he could find her mouth with his. He needed to kiss her. To feel part of her, to be inside of her. He looked into her eyes and saw need there, hot and yet filled with such love. His heart jerked in his chest, and he kissed her again, using a gentle rhythm to entice her to ride him. His hands gripped her bottom, lifting her, showing her, feeling the silken heat flash through him when her muscles clamped down.
So hot. A searing fire streaking up his cock and spreading to every inch of his body. The primitive need to possess her was a dark lust that wouldn't-couldn't-be stopped. Heat, lust, love, passion and arousal all mingled together as the bite of her muscles clamped around him and silken walls tightened until he was strangling somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Manolito shifted again, tipping her back onto the bed so he was bent over her, watching them come together, watching her body stretch impossibly to accommodate his. The sight of her body accepting his was so erotic it shook him. Her tight sheath was velvet soft but scorching, so that he lost his ability to think, to control, until he was pumping into her, deeper and deeper, while the white-hot pleasure burst around him.
She rose to meet every drive of his hips, every thrust and surge, urging him to a harder, faster ride, until he felt her release ripping through her like a firestorm-catching him up in the vortex, sucking and milking while streaks of lightning raced over his cock and he exploded deep inside her, jet after jet pulsing while her body gripped him hard. He lay over her for a long while, gasping her name, stroking her back, fighting for control when his body no longer belonged to him.