That was hot. The idea that she’d been sitting there, quietly driving along the dark back Montana roads, and all the time she’d been thinking about…
He kissed her again, fiercely, caught up in the taste of her. “We’ve been too far away from each other for hours,” he growled. He wanted to surround himself in her scent, wrap himself up in it like a blanket and carry it around with him forever. He wanted her to smell like him to any other shifters she met, for everyone who saw her to know that she was his.
“No argument,” Lynn gasped into his mouth. “Oh, God, you feel so good.”
She was wrong—she was the one who felt good. But he didn’t have time to argue the point with her, because he was too busy kissing her mouth, her cheek, her neck, burying his nose in the curve of her shoulder and inhaling deeply, then latching on to that spot with his mouth and biting gently, laving the area with his tongue.
She made a noise that was higher-pitched than anything he’d ever heard out of her, going up on her toes. He pulled back. “All right?”
“All right,” she gasped, and he grinned and went right back in.
He wanted to taste her all over. He wanted to bury himself in her, fill himself up with Lynn, leave their essences clinging to each other.
And he could.
“Clothes off,” he said. Which was the best approximation of a sentence that he could manage, with his cock throbbing between his legs and his hands on fire with the need to touch her all over.
She pressed her mouth to his, licking in to taste him, and then pulled back to gasp, “You’re going to have to let go of me for that to work.”
Boy howdy, he did not want to do that.
But he made his hands loosen, letting her step back, leaving him tingling with desire and tearing at his own clothes. Shirt, pants, socks, boxers, shit, why were clothes so goddamn complicated?
But finally they were off. Ken looked up at Lynn, who was halfway out of her pants, and wondered if the air between them really was heated, or if it was just his imagination. He had to clench his hands to keep from pouncing on her while she was still yanking her jeans over her ankles.
The second she was naked, though, he sprang. She laughed in surprise as he propelled her back onto the bed, getting her legs over his shoulders and descending mouth first.
God, she was wet. He sucked on her clit, tasting her salt-sweet and so, so hot. Sex on his tongue—going down on a woman had always driven him a bit crazy, the idea that sex was happening right there in his mouth. And with Lynn, it was so far beyond anything he’d done before. He felt like he was tasting her core, white-hot and intoxicating.
And the way her legs fell on either side of him, the soft skin against his bare shoulders, muscles clenching as he licked her clit, how her high-pitched noises filled the air, added to how her taste filled him: it was like he was utterly surrounded by Lynn’s pleasure.
He lost track of any technique he might’ve known once, too caught up in the way she felt, tasted, sounded. He wanted to catch every moment of her pleasure, taste every hint of her. When she shuddered under his tongue, he felt it echo through his own body, his cock throbbing and his stomach clenching with desire.
He nosed downward from her clit, searching for more of her. When he traced his tongue around her entrance, she made a strangled noise, and when he plunged his tongue inside, her muscles clenched instantly. Ken spread his hands over her hips, pulling her forward into his tongue, and drowned in her.
He was halfway to embarrassing himself by coming right there on his knees, against the side of the bed, when she reached down, scrabbling at his shoulders, and pulled him away.
It took him a second to catch his breath, relearn what it meant to be up here in the air instead of down there, breathing her. “What?” he said. It came out as a growl, a rasp.
“Get inside me,” Lynn said. Her eyes were wild, topaz flames. Her hair had slipped free of its tie and was a wild halo around her head, and her own voice was throaty and hoarse. Ken could hardly tear his eyes away from hers, even with the glorious curves of her body on display.
Then he processed what she’d said. “Yeah,” he said, still hearing his voice as that low growl of want. “Yeah, Lynn, I need—”
The sentence got lost somewhere as he looked down. Her legs w
ere open, the silver-blond curls surrounding her entrance were damp with her wetness and his spit, and he needed to be right there.
He got up on the bed, catching her knee as he went, tugging her open. She reached for him, pulling him in. Like he needed encouragement, yeah right.
Sinking inside her was everything he’d ever wanted. The way she felt around him, so hot, so wet—he surged forward, losing any of the scraps of intention he’d had of going slow. But she didn’t protest. Instead, she grabbed his hips, like she wanted him even further inside.
Ken let go of the ragged edges of control and let himself surrender to the wild rhythm that was driving him. Lynn met him at every thrust, just as wild as he was. Her breaths had a little whine at the edge of each one, and every time he bottomed out inside her, she clenched hard around him. His cock jerked inside her, and he knew it wasn’t going to be long.
“Can you—God—what do you need?” he panted.
“Just this, just this, just keep doing this—” Lynn’s face was caught up in a gorgeous overwhelmed twist of pleasure, and Ken kissed her hard. She ground her hips up against him, once—twice—God, she was strong, he’d never been with a woman who could match him strength for strength like this, had always had to be careful, take his time.
And now he’d surrendered to the wildness within and found her right there with him. He tore his mouth away from hers and bit her neck, right where he’d bitten earlier, but harder. And at that, Lynn’s fingernails dug into his back, and her muscles clenched impossibly tight. Ken lost track of anything that was happening other than the feeling of her locked up, orgasming around his cock, and the little pricks of pain from her fingers, which somehow only got caught up with the pleasure.