My hands can’t seem to find a good place to hold onto him, so they travel all over the shorn shoulders of his suit, to the scarred expanse of his thickly muscled arms. I scratch my fingernails through his hair in the way that makes him moan into my mouth. Then his lips are breaking free and licking down my throat.
“Your taste, it’s better than the sweetest sparkleberry fruit,” he whispers against my skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle and sweet, his claws retracting so his fingertips trace over every visible inch, leaving a swath of goose bumps in their wake.
I’ve lost the ability to speak. He’s stolen it from me with each passing, fire-bright touch, each lost second. When he reaches the hem of my top at the neckline, he pulls away, but presses a hand on my belly to keep me still. I may not be able to speak, but his message is crystal clear. I’m not to move from this spot. My knees are locked, and even if they weren’t, I’m not sure there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.
As I’m held in position, he strips himself out of the top of his suit, revealing acres of gorgeous, muscled chest, powerful shoulders, and an abdomen that ripples as he flexes. Saliva floods my mouth, and I shiver from simply looking at him. He is mine as much as I’m his.
Maddeningly, he stops with the bottom of his suit hanging limply from his hips. An intriguing bulge tents the front, and nothing has ever tempted me so much. I could ignore his directive to stay pinned to the wall as he torments me, half afraid of what he’ll do if I move and half intrigued by what he’ll do next.
He extends his claws long enough to rip into my shirt, easily shredding the material until it falls to a limp pile at my feet. My breasts, which I’d bound with extra material, spring free, and I hiss as the cool air turns my nipples into hard nubs. His eyes drink in my half-naked form greedily, and as though he can’t resist, his mouth comes to one breast, laving the sensitive tip with the forked end of his tongue.
I throw my head back, cupping his neck with my hands, holding him to my chest. When I begin tugging at his hair, he switches to my other breast, nuzzling and nipping until I cry out.
“I like hearing you call out for me. Before the next solar, I want to hear you call out until you no longer have a voice.”
“Draven, please.”
“Please, what?” he teases.
“More. Touch me more.”
“Where do you want me to touch you, Molly mate?”
I shove at my pants. “Take these off. Touch me where it aches. Let me touch you. Anything. Please.”
“We have all night until the hunt. I wish we had more time. I’d mate with you for solars and solars.”
I nearly sob in desperation. “We don’t have solars. We’ve got tonight, and I want you so bad it hurts.”
He kisses me again, and I’ve never felt anything as good as his bare chest against mine. The sensation drives me wild, and I forget my resolve to stand still, to be patient like he requested. Instead, I launch myself at him, my legs tangling in the half-on, half-off status of my pants. Confined the way I am, I can’t get close enough to press that bulge against the heat between my thighs where I want it most.
Draven twists and angles his body, so he has us both on his pallet of blankets. With infinite patience, he settles me against his side, freeing my restless feet and legs of my shoes, then the rest of my suit, until I’m naked next to him. At the sight of my bared body he stills, his hand hovering over me.
“What are you doing?” I ask as the seconds lengthen with him only gazing at me.
“Looking at you. I want to remember you like this always. My mate is so beautiful it makes me forget the madness.”
Touched beyond words, I pull him down against me, a little dismayed to find he’s still only halfway out of his suit. Then, he starts where he left off, kissing me down my chest in a determined path to the valley of my thighs.
I throw my head back against his blankets as he fits himself between my legs, his wide shoulders spreading me open for his gaze and then, for his mouth. I’d thought feeling his tongue on my nipples was devastating.
I’d been wrong.
His forked tongue scissors the sensitive nub of my clit, stroking and licking until it’s so sensitive I can feel my heartbeat throbbing wildly against his flesh. Sheathed fingertips probe the slick opening of my cunt, and I sob unintelligible words until he thrusts inside. His shoulders nudge me wider, his finger pressing so deep inside it’s almost painful. When he bottoms out, the fleshy part of his palm presses against my clit, sending sharp zings of pleasure along my nerve endings.