She moved her mouth from his and began kissing his jaw, his throat, his shoulder, his pecs. He smelled the same as before, the same delightful scent of male and wolf, but of his unique scent too. She licked his nipple, and he shuddered. He kissed the top of her head. Then he was reaching for his buckle, and she pushed his hands away, impatient, unfastening it herself and pulling off his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. She looked down at him in awe, remembering him as she knew he was remembering her. He hadn’t aged a day since she’d seen him last, courtesy of their lupus garou genetics and extreme longevity.
His head dipped and captured her mouth again, his hands cupping her, pulling her snug against his hard body, his erection a steel rod between them, almost as if his briefs and her panties didn’t exist at all. She rubbed her body against his, soliciting a low growl. She loved feeling him against her and wanted him inside her, but like the last time they’d been together, they couldn’t go that far, not unless they wanted to be committed to each other forever. And she knew as much as she wanted that to happen, they needed some time to get to know each other. Really know each other for the first time, living together, seeing if they were truly compatible for the long run. There was no divorce for wolves.
But she couldn’t keep her hands off him just as he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Tongues tasted and teased. His hands were on her breasts, squeezing, enjoying them like she was enjoying his hands molding to her hot flesh. She didn’t think she would ever get enough of him. She’d worried it had been just her imagination. That he’d wanted her because she had freed him as a hostage. That he’d felt a little lost because he was a wolf and hadn’t known how to deal with it. But she worried no longer. They had a sexual connection that couldn’t be quenched easily. A fire that had ignited between them from the minute they’d seen each other and had only burned brighter since then.
He paused to slow down the kisses as if he were afraid they would get this over too quickly and he wanted to savor every moment with her. While she was ready for quick and fulfilling and then being ready to do it again. And again.
She slowed down, though, not wanting to overwhelm him with her enthusiasm or put him off. But slow didn’t seem to be working for him, either, and the passionate kisses resumed with him sucking her tongue and her nibbling at his lips, sucking on them, pressing her body against his. Rubbing him to feel his erection straining for release.
He finally unfastened her bra and dropped it to the floor, and then he was pulling down her panties and they fell next to her bra and the rest of their clothes. Then she was pulling off his boxer briefs and running her hands over his rigid erection.
She didn’t even know how it happened, but she was in his bed and he was in it with her, kissing her, his hands everywhere, his mouth following, licking her nipples, savoring each morsel, then moving lower, nibbling and kissing his way down her belly.
He reached between them and began to stroke her feminine nub with precision. Her entire body lit up and she strained toward him, needing this, needing him. He kissed her mouth again, and she felt the passion fill her whole body with hunger. She ran her hand over his arm, urging him on, feeling his strong bicep, admiring the rest of him, fit, healthy, his face sporting some whiskers, his eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth full and demanding against hers.
“I missed you,” he whispered, and she tasted every word, including the regret that he hadn’t been able to be with her physically since she’d left him.
“I missed you too.” She gazed up at him, his expression somewhat sad now, as if he was afraid something else might take her away from him, and this—these special feelings they had for each other—would be cast aside. Again. “I’m not going back to the pack. I won’t, I promise.”
“We are meant for each other. I would just mate you now and—”
His fingers moved inside her and her body screamed yes. She closed her eyes and willed herself to be strong. “We need the time to get to know each other.”
“Yeah.”
He rested his hands on her hips and kissed each of her bare shoulders. Then he kissed her mouth and pulled her close, hugging her. He sighed deeply as if she were the most precious person to him. He was that to her.
Their lips met, slowly this time, gentle and maybe a little hesitant. But she didn’t want hesitant. Didn’t need gentle. She opened her mouth to him, telling him to explore her like she wanted to do with him.
She hadn’t remembered just how glorious he was until now. And it all came back in a rush to her. Every delectable inch of him. And oh God, his lips. Lips that were magnificently hot and manly and perfect for kissing.
He slid his hand between her legs again and began to stroke.
His touch was slow and methodical and meant to make her beg for harder and faster. He continued to stroke her, making her wet in anticipation. “Hmm,” she moaned. She could get used to this. Forget anything else.
He stroked faster, moving against her again, making her arch against his fingers, making her want harder, faster. He understood her unspoken need, speeding up his strokes on her nubbin, pressing the sensitive, swollen flesh harder. Her climax hit, crashed over her, hurtled her toward the moon and stars. She cried out, unable to stop herself.
He moved between her legs as if he wanted to thrust his arousal in her, and she wanted it, too, the ache between her legs making her want to take this all the way. It was as if her sex was calling the shots and all her previous control vanished. She didn’t care. She wanted him as deep and as fully as she could take him.
But he just rubbed his cock against her mound, not entering her, teasing with every stroke, kissing her passionately again. His hand was in her hair, alternately caressing and pulling, his eyes closed as he breathed in her scent as she was breathing in his—spice, maleness, the great outdoors, the piney woods and fir trees, musk, and sex. Not to mention a whole lot of wolf.
Her legs parted wider, a dangerous business she couldn’t seem to help. She pushed him back so she could stroke him next. She took hold of his erection and began to move, up and down, up and down, her lips pressed against his at first. Then she moved her mouth to his jaw, savoring the feel of his stubble, then down to his neck, shoulders, kissing his pecs and nipples. She didn’t let go of his erection, continuing to work on him like he’d worked her. She took one nipple into her mouth and sucked. He groaned, and his arousal jumped in her hand. She smiled and moved her mouth to the other nipple.
She tugged on it gently with her teeth and then sucked on it and his erection jumped again, as if doing that to his nipples created the most pleasurable catalyst. Her breasts rubbed against his belly, the friction on her nipples making her feel the need to climax all over again.
As she picked up the pace on his erection, she felt his whole body tense. Loving that she could tell when she needed to change the firmness of her hand on his arousal and speed up or slow down the pace, she attributed that to their heightened sense of smell and touch, the way they could detect even the smallest changes. She licked a nipple and blew on it, then did the same with the other. He groaned again.