Mmm, she whispered. Your touch always makes my body sing.
She was more than half asleep to say something like that to him. His smile broadened. I like the way your body sings for me. Have you ever dreamt of making love during the time you cannot move? Your body seems so alive to me.
To tease her, he ran his hand down her flat stomach to the junction between her legs. There was smoldering heat when the rest of her body felt cool to his touch. I do believe you’re dreaming of me. He cupped her mound and felt the small rush of liquid response.
She gave a little sniff of disdain, her lips curving into a smile. Not really. A wolf man? Why ever would I do that?
Because, my darling woman—he bent his head again to draw her breast into the heat of his mouth—if you dreamt of another man and responded like this, wet and ready with your fire growing, I would have to hunt him down and kill him. He flattened his tongue, stroking and teasing, using the edge of his teeth while he suckled, showing her the wolf lying in wait.
She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through him, teasing his body like the touch of her fingers. You’re such a big bad wolf sometimes.
You have no idea just how bad a wolf can be. Here you are lying so helpless, and I have no problem taking advantage of you.
His teeth nipped his way down to her belly button, his tongue easing the sharp sting. His sank one finger deep into her waiting body, feeling her readiness, that eager reception he always anticipated.
Should I be afraid? I believe my body belongs to you. It is saying so right this minute.
Her laughter teased at his groin, as if her mouth was so close to him, breathing warm air over the burgeoning shaft and sensitive head. He could have sworn he felt the brush of her tongue over him. His cock jerked and he circled his girth with his hand, already on fire for her.
You’re playing with fire again, she said softly, intimately, into his mind. Her tone was pure seduction. A temptress with her body calling to his and her mind touching him with her fingers and tongue and mouth.
Hunger was savage. Tearing at him unexpectedly the way it often did when he was close to her. The scent of her called to the wolf in him, and his body reacted with urgent, brutally hard need. He plunged two fingers into her tightness, trying to prepare her when he knew he would join them fast and hard.
I am always ready for you, my love, always. I look at you and my body drips with welcome. My breasts cannot wait for your mouth and hands. I am more than ready.
Zev didn’t waste any more time. He parted her thighs and moved her body so he could slide into her fiery sheath in one, fast forceful surge, burying himself to the hilt. He went so deep he felt her womb, that warm, snug place she would carry their child. Despite the hour of the day, her sheath was hot vibrant silk, moist and ready for him, opening reluctantly and then clamping around him like a tight fist of pure fire.
His breath hissed out as he began to move, locking her hips in place while he pounded his body into hers, burying himself over and over in that scorching blaze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t stop him from doing anything to her body, and the wonderful thing was, she didn’t want to. He could touch her anywhere, kiss her, taste her and just explore, and his woman gave herself into his keeping.
He gave himself up to sheer feeling, letting the sensations pour over him and into him. There was a kind of wonder in being able to always be what he was—a wolf, an alpha, a predatory animal claiming his mate. Branislava never objected to the wild pounding or rough handling, matching him flame for flame.
This time, because she couldn’t move, there was a sense of power mixed with lust and love, an intoxicating combination. The knowledge that she trusted him implicitly, that she would allow him to use the sanctuary of her body during this hour, was the most sensual of all.
His hands moved over her, stroking and kneading her body, feeling the answering response as her muscles clamped down around him tight. The heat built and built until even the ground seemed to glow with a red-orange hue. He lifted her buttocks and surged forward again and again, driving into her so that each stroke sent her breasts swaying.
Her mouth formed a small round O and her eyes glazed. He could see the marks of his possession on her skin, all those nips and bites, the press of his fingers, marking her, claiming her as his own. Satisfaction rose along with a primitive need to possess her. A wolf chose his mate wisely, and Branislava would always be his choice. His destiny.
You are becoming more wolf by the moment, she hissed, her mind chaotic with the building pleasure. His hands seemed to be everywhere, bringing her body to life when the sun had drained her of all strength. He had magic in him, a beast bringing mind-numbing pleasure bent on her destruction. And she was more than willing to give herself up to him, to allow them both to burn in her fire.