He made a low, wordless sound. His rough hands seized her hips, pulling her deliciously against his hard length. She let out a gasp as he crushed her back against the wall, her own desire surging at being surrounded by his intoxicating strength.
She tried to tug his head down so that she could kiss him, but he shook his head a little, pulling out of reach. For whatever reason, it was clear his mouth was out of bounds. She had to settle for nipping at his chest, near-drunk on the scent of him, the salt-sweat taste of his skin.
His powerful hands jerked her dress off her body with a sharp rip, his rough palms sliding over her skin as if he would lay claim to every inch. She practically whined in encouragement, t
hrusting herself shamelessly at him as she fought to undo his belt.
She managed to free him the same instant that his fingers slid under her panties. Oh Lord, he felt good in her hand, velvet-soft and iron-hard all at the same time, as much a contradiction as he himself was. The slickness already beading at his tip brought an answering gush between her own thighs.
“Oh yes,” she gasped, as he slid a finger into her welcoming depths. She shuddered around him, squeezing his shaft hard in her fist. “Finn, I can’t wait, now, please!”
Without a word, he tore her panties off. He lifted her effortlessly, her back against the wall, just as she’d secretly longed for. Martha wrapped her legs around him, and oh, oh, it was better than she could ever have imagined. She writhed in exquisite anticipation as his length slid through her folds—not entering yet, just testing her readiness.
She threw back her head as he rubbed against her just right, unable to hold herself back any longer. She cried out his name, scratching at his back as ecstasy exploded through her.
Though she couldn’t have been more ready, she still caught her breath as his hardness pushed at her entrance. He was big, just as big as the rest of him. His shoulder muscles shook under her hands as he fought to go slowly.
But, oh, she didn’t want slow. She wanted him.
Deliberately, she sank her teeth into his rigid neck. He jerked, and yes, at last, at last he lost his control. She was swept away as he slammed into her, finally giving her all of him, without holding back.
“Finn!” she cried out, overwhelmed with sensation, blind to everything but him. “Finn!”
He buried his face in the junction of her neck and shoulder as he strained into her. He didn’t bite, but she felt the sharp press of clenched, jagged teeth against her skin. It was enough to send her tumbling over the edge again, washed away by pleasure.
It took a while to come back to herself. If he hadn’t still been holding her up, she would have been a boneless heap on the floor. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, safe and secure in his supportive arms, totally undone.
He held her until they were both breathing more steadily again. Then, with infinite care, he carried her over to the bed, laying her down on the soft sheets. Tired and tingling from head to toe, she stretched, watching as he stripped off his armor.
“I didn’t warn you that I’m not gentle,” she murmured, feeling a twinge of guilt. His white back was marked by livid stripes where she’d scratched him up. “You should have worn more armor.”
His deep, rasping laugh rumbled through his chest as he curled up behind her. He kissed her shoulder softly, without a hint of teeth. “You bite like a shark.”
Martha entwined her fingers through his, feeling utterly content. “But you don’t bite.”
He went still. “No. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“It is how sharks mate.”
Oh. He clearly meant mate mate; the permanent union of minds and souls, not just bodies.
Her inner coyote wagged its tail in eagerness, and Martha’s own heart skipped a beat at the thought. To be fully joined to him, to know him inside and out, to see the secret soul behind the blank wall he presented to the world…oh, she wanted that.
But did he?
If he did…coyotes were pack animals. Any prospective mate had to be presented to the pack, and win their approval. And no matter how she tried, she couldn’t imagine a Master Shark petitioning to join a bunch of dusty desert dogs. He and her pack just didn’t fit in the same mental picture.
Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t bitten her.
As if he’d sensed the darkening turn of her thoughts, his arm tightened around her. He drew the sheet up, covering them both. “Sleep now.”
She nodded, pushing her worries down again. No sense fretting over the future. She nestled back into the warmth of his embrace, trying to recapture that glow of contentment.
“Finn?” she murmured, as exhaustion lowered her eyelids. “Did you want to bite me?”
He brushed her shoulder with his lips again…but if he answered, she was asleep before she heard it.