“Not yet. Let’s see how wet you are.” As he slid one hand down the length of her body, his touch made her writhe, teeth locked together as she fought the werewolf that wanted to bite, wanted to grab and fuck and take. Women had taken enough from him. It’s his turn.
He cupped her pussy, and one long finger slid between her swollen, slick lips. “You are wet,” Conal said with a feral smile, adding another finger. His thumb brushed over her clit, and just like that, pleasure blasted up her spine, a blinding storm of fire and delight. Helena screamed, her voice spiraling into a long wolf howl that probably would have shamed her if she hadn’t been too far gone.
Chapter Four
Conal had never been so turned on in his entire life. The feel of Helena’s body rolling under his maddened him, those long legs wrapped around his ass. She pumped that silken belly against his erection until it was all he could do not to come on the spot.
He hadn’t felt so out of control since Siobhan had cast that lust spell on him. At the end, that had been the only way he could get it up with the bitch, especially when she trotted out the whip. This time Conal didn’t feel helpless. And God, Helena was beautiful, her long body slim under his, almost delicate despite her astonishing werewolf strength. He had to taste her. He tried to rise, but the grip of her thighs was too tight.
Remembering the lust in her eyes after she’d cuffed herself, Conal took a chance and gave her a deliberate swat on one bare brown thigh. “Let go!” He put just enough dominant snap to it, hoping he wasn’t pushing Helena too far.
Helena’s big brown eyes met his and widened even more. But her legs fell away, and he moved fast, sliding between her thighs to bury his head between them. With one hand, he spread her deliciously slick lips, and bent to stroke his tongue over delicious folds and jutting clit. A long, savoring lap.
God, that taste. It had a tang to it, something wild and hot and not completely human. It certainly wasn’t anything like Siobhan’s, and that poured gasoline on his lust.
Conal parted her plump lips and paused, studying the red, glistening flesh. Inhaled, breathing her in. His eyes were more sensitive than most humans’ and he could see her clearly even in the dim light. She writhed on the white comforter like a warm shadow, and the eyes looking down at him flashed gold, reflecting the light coming in through the window. Helena gripped the headboard with both hands, the tendons of her lean arms standing stark under smooth, velvet skin. There was nothing bulky about her body, just rangy grace and sweet curves. So beautiful.
With a rumble of approval, Conal went back to savoring her pussy in sweet licks.
Helena arched under him with a strangled gasp, hunching against his mouth. He slid his arms around her thighs, reaching up the length of her body for taut dark nipples. As he plunged his tongue deep, he hummed in approval. Wet, she was so fucking wet. It wouldn’t take much to make her come again. It was intoxicating, making this exquisitely controlled woman scream his name.
As Conal drank her scent, it seemed to reach right into his balls and pull them tight. It hit him what a risk she’d taken for him, going up against a wolf pack during her Burning Moon. The thought made him feel a little sick.
So he circled the tight button of her clit, then deliberately flicked his tongue over it. Once. Twice. Again and again until she cried out between her teeth, the sound gritted, ragged. Conal smiled against Helena’s slick flesh and went after that little button with ruthless determination. Two licks later, she screamed his name. He had to tighten his grip on her thighs to keep her from throwing him off.
Somewhere above his head, Conal heard the headboard creak, and made a mental bet with himself she was probably bending the hell out of the spindles. The bed was heavy steel, but no match for Helena. “Fuck me!” she gasped. “Please! Please please please, just…”
“What do you need?”
“Your cock!” She sounded so desperate as she begged. And he’d had enough. Conal almost drove into her on the spot, but belatedly remembered the condom. He sat up and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table, found a packet of condoms, tore one open. After rolling it over his aching cock with hands that shook with adrenaline and lust, he positioned himself between her long magnificent legs.
Helena’s biceps bunched, and the bed spindles began to bow outward under her grip. Her eyes met his, gold and shining, more cat than wolf. He ran his cock’s slick head over her lips to tease her entrance and thrust deep. She screamed again, a rasp of relief. He began riding hard, grinding his cock in and out, not holding back.
Conal felt his climax boiling out of his balls, slammed his will against it. Not yet, damn it! She needed this, and he was, by God, going to give it to her. The fire pouring through him threatened to overcome his willpower, but he deliberately let himself remember the rake of claws. It was like pouring ice water across his dick. The climax died. Helena’s eyes met his, moon-wide and glowing. “Conal…”
“Hush,” he told her. “I’ve got this.” Because even that memory couldn’t defeat his erection. Not with her wrapped around him so slick and tight, the scent of her swamping his brain. He ground fiercely, riding her hard, digging in. Holding on.
* * *
Helena stared up at him, watching his eyes glow like faceted gemstones in the dark. Even as raw and desperate as she felt, there was a lot of him, and she loved it. Loved the grinding strokes, the way he filled her so completely.
Conal didn’t look entirely human either. There was something feral in those wide eyes, in the curl of his lips pulled back from his teeth. The hot determination on his face. His need smelled every bit as savage as hers. Though he’d already made her come twice with that wickedly skillful mouth, she could feel the deep clenching starting all over again, too many years of privation turning her body greedy.
Conal growled something impatient and sat up, lifting her ass off the sheets, dropping her shoulders to the bed. His muscles bunched as he held her like that, filling her to the edge of pain, ramming, perfect, so hard and deep. Helena came, screaming and mindless. One of the bed spindles came off in her hand, giving way with the screech of metal, tearing like paper. “Helena!” he roared and threw his head back as he jetted into the condom.
Helena had never come that hard in her entire life. Probably because I’ve been edging for five years. Too many Burning Moons with no lover at all. Though to be honest, Conal probably would have made her come just as hard if she’d been sleeping with the entire starting lineup of the Atlanta Falcons. The man knew how to do things with his tongue she’d never even read about.
When the storm was finally over, he lowered her gently to the bed, then sat back to dispose of the condom. After tossing it, Conal started to collapse beside her, only to convulse with a quiet oath. She looked up, startled. He was frowning at the bed spindle, which jutted out from the headboard like a spear. “Oh fuck! Conal, I’m sorry! Did it get you?”
“No.” He grabbed the spindle, forcing it downward. Her brows rose. He was pretty damn strong himself. Conal wrestled the spindle back into place over the jagged holes she’d ripped in the headboard. As she watched, it began to glow. When he took his hand away, it was whole again. “I do have some power,” he said dryly. “Just wish I could have done that while the bastards were torturing me.” As if to demonstrate, he closed his hand over one bracelet of her handcuffs, which clicked open, freeing her. He unlocked the one around her free hand and reattached it to the repaired spindle.