She panted and wrapped her hand around his cock, which was slick with the proof of just how badly she needed him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this wet—never with any of the boring human men who’d tried so hard to fulfill her while always falling short.
She squeezed her fingers lightly around him and met his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't want it."
He sucked in a breath and released it with a low, growling curse. "I never said I didn't want it." He couldn't have, not when his engorged shaft jerked in her hand as she gripped him loosely. "But I want to make damn sure you're not just high."
Claire ran her thumb over the head of his cock in a teasing circle, her mouth going dry at the thought of having him inside her again, hot and hard and pushing her over the edge. "You're not going to fuck me until I'm sober?"
"I'm not going to fuck you until you stop pretending you can't help yourself." Lars's eyes were dark with reproach. He tiptoed his fingers up the inside of her thigh, then nudged two fingers past her outer lips and into her heat.
She moaned and spread her legs wide, pushing up against his hand. His fingers weren't as good as his cock, but they were something. She didn't know if she could admit she wanted this; that she wanted wild, passionate fucking instead of sweet, tender lovemaking.
Claire was a good girl, and her parents had raised her to think good girls didn't like getting fucked. Over and over her mother had tried to delicately broach the subject, telling her the instinctive desires of a shapeshifter were to be ignored and rejected. Moonlight, roses, and candles, whispered words of love, and sex under the covers—that was what her mother claimed a good girl should want.
Yet here she was, sprawled on a strange man's couch with his fingers moving inside her as she begged for his cock. She wanted it, wanted anything he'd do to her, anything she could do to him. He was hot and strong and starting to make her believe in the existence of the legendary g-spot as he curled his fingers inside her and sent fire trembling along her nerves.
Maybe good girls did like to fuck. Or maybe she just wasn't as good as she thought.
Blood pounded in Lars’ ears, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back behind Claire and fuck her senseless. Her pussy had gone from damp to wet, and he slid a third finger inside her with ease. She arched her back, hissing, and he raised his thumb to work her clit.
He wanted to fuck her, to make her come and find his own release in the hot, clenching depths of her body, but he couldn't, not until he knew she wouldn't be sorry when she woke up in his bed. That meant he needed to stop.
He ground his teeth and jerked his hand away, ignoring her dismayed protest. His eyes locked on hers as he raised his fingers and sucked them into his mouth. When he'd licked them clean, he grinned at her, ignoring the almost unbearable throbbing in his cock.
"Talk."
She snarled at him, and it was obvious she didn't have a submissive bone in her body. Her eyes flashed with heat and a power she still wore a little awkwardly. She was young, but when she grew into that power, she'd bring shapeshifter men to their knees. Most of the female coyotes in town were submissive, rolling over and letting him do whatever he wanted when they shared his bed.
But not Claire. She pressed her lips together in defiance and slid her hand down her body, teasing at her clit for a moment before pushing two fingers inside herself. She fucked herself with her own hand, filling the air with the scent of her desire and the moans of her approaching climax.
He arched an eyebrow and watched her, balling his hands into trembling fists and pressing them onto his thighs. He wouldn't touch her. He wouldn't.
She licked her lips and dropped her eyes to his lap, her mouth curling in a tiny smile. When she talked, it was a teasing whisper. "You wanted me to let her out to play. You really think you can handle her?"
"It's what I was made to do," he rasped, hoping she understood the truth in his words. "But if you can't handle it, I'll call you a cab right now."
Claire was on him before he finished speaking, knocking him back onto the floor. She straddled his chest, her ass just out of reach of his aching cock. Her blue eyes were dangerous as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, dragging his hand back to her pussy.
When she spoke, it was a command. "Make me come."
Lars didn't argue. He just moved her back until he could thrust his fingers into her. He thumbed her clit, watching her face carefully.
"Ride my hand."
She did. Her hips moved, awkwardly at first, but with growing confidence. She had an almost innocent glee about her as she sought her own pleasure. It was clear that no one had ever accepted both sides of her before, and she seemed drunk on the idea that he wanted her wild side.
When she came it was with a low, almost surprised sound. Her pussy gripped his fingers, and her inner muscles tightened. Her body arched backwards until her unbound hair brushed his cock, teasing him as she rode out her orgasm.
He flipped her onto her back while she was still coming, replacing his fingers with his cock, and she screamed her pleasure in a ragged voice. He fought back a relieved groan as he buried himself to the hilt, immediately setting a hard, fast rhythm, driving into her.
Claire went wild underneath him, responding to every thrust with a satisfied cry. He didn't have to worry about hurting her; short stature aside, she was sturdy and sleekly muscled under all of her curves. She wrapped her legs around his hips, tightened them, and encouraged him to fuck her even harder.
He tried to hold out, but he'd spent too much time arousing and teasing them both. The moonshine hummed through his veins, and Claire’s essence soaked into every pore in his body. His muscles tensed, the world went white around the edges, and he threw back his head and howled his release.
Her voice joined his, low and desperate as she came again. Her body squeezed him, her inner muscles hugging his cock so perfectly. Their voices twined together like their bodies, filling his trailer with the sounds of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
He had freed her from her stifling existence, had shown her who she was and who she could be. The strongest female in their territory was beneath him, her neck arched in unconscious submission.
Submission to him, and no other man.
He lowered his head and closed his teeth on her skin, drawing a bruise as his hips slowed and then stilled. He twisted one hand into her hair, bent her head back even further, and bit her again. She let him, making a quiet noise of satisfaction as he marked her as his.
His.
It was an odd thought. Lars had always scoffed at the shifters who were convinced they'd forged a mystical bond with another and were mated for life. His sudden possessiveness of Claire probably had more to do with the fact that she was going to be scorching hot in bed when he managed to free her from her inhibitions. Someone had brutalized her instincts, beating her down until she thought she needed drugs to find herself. He wanted to help her change that. And he could protect her, because if she kept wandering unaccompanied into bars like Dos Culebras, she wasn't going to get a chance to grow into her power.
The thought made him want to snarl.
Instead, he relaxed his hand and released her hair. "Do you want to stay?"
She wiggled underneath him, her arms coming up over her head in a lazy stretch. "Mmm. Can we have more sex? I had no idea how much I was missing by only fucking humans."
He wanted to take the credit, but Lars had never been one for lies, so he told her the truth as he levered himself off of her and reached into a nearby laundry basket for a pair of shorts. "It's not about whether you're fucking humans or shifters. It's about being who you are, no matter who's in your pants."