Then she pointed at her pussy. “Well, it’s not going to lick itself.”
A wicked smile curved his mouth as his eyes returned human. “I’ll give my pretty baby what she wants.” Joining her on the bed and blanketing her body with his, he added, “When I’m ready.”
Oh, the motherfucker.
Gently slapping aside the hand that warningly swiped her claws at him, Marcus curled his tongue around her nipple. She moaned, knotting her hands in his hair. He toyed with each of her breasts; molding and squeezing them with his hands while licking, sucking, and biting her nipples.
“Why are you still dressed?” That could easily be changed. Roni destroyed his clothes with her claws, wanting his flesh pressed to hers, wanting her scent all over him and his scent all over her. Each time he marked her, it sent an almost electric jolt to her clit. Her wolf urged her to leave her own brands, so she did—clawing the sleek skin of his back, loving the feel of his powerful muscles bunching beneath her hands.
Unable to resist the lure of her scent, Marcus raked his teeth down her abdomen as he slid down her body, briefly stopping to dip his tongue into her navel. Hands clenched on her thighs, he then swooped down and lightly fluttered his tongue through her slit. “This is mine,” he growled against her pussy. “And I’m going to fill it up. Going to fuck it until you scream and this tight pussy comes all over my cock.”
Roni moaned, groaned, and whimpered as he sank his tongue inside her, swirling, stabbing, and licking until her legs were trembling and she was writhing like crazy. He then licked between her folds and circled her clit before flicking it with the tip of his tongue—knowing exactly how much she liked it. Then he was sucking on her clit, and each tug, tug, tug sent sparks of pleasure lancing through her, but it also worsened the empty ache in her pussy. “Marcus, inside me, now.” Instead, he suckled harder on her clit before shoving one finger inside her, curving it just right. Like that, she shattered.
Possessiveness roared through Marcus when she came all over his hand. “Your pussy is dripping for me.” As he knelt above her, eyes that briefly flashed wolf roamed down his body and fixed on his cock—he was thick and full and aching. Her covetous gaze almost made him groan. “You look hungry for it, sweetheart.” She hadn’t sucked him off yet; dominant females always did oral sex on their own terms.
Her eyes flicked up to his. “I want to taste you.”
Anticipation thrummed through him. “It’s all yours.” Sitting up, she fisted him, leaned over and delivered an almost catlike lick to the tip of the head. “Fuck.” She licked his cock like it was a fucking ice-cream cone, doing some clever swirly thing with her tongue. Bunching her hair in his hand, he growled. That was when she finally took him into her mouth, sucking so hard her cheeks hollowed. “That’s it, sweetheart, suck it.” Her mouth was heaven, and it was his. She was his. This body was his. The sex-crazed look in her eyes—that was his. He had to have her.
Roni gasped as she suddenly found herself pinned to the bed with such strength that a jolt of excitement sizzled through her. Just for the hell of it, she struggled against his hold, but he didn’t loosen his grip on her wrists. In fact, he pressed more of his weight on her, crushing her breasts against his solid chest, and sinking her into the mattress. She couldn’t move, yet she liked it. Just as she liked the look on his face right then—it was a look that promised her she was about to be ruthlessly fucked, but she’d have to submit. Finally, she went pliant beneath him.
“Good girl.” Releasing one of her wrists, he slipped a hand under her ass and tilted her hips. “I think my pretty little wolf is ready for me.” Knowing he was about to claim Roni as his mate . . . it was like a narcotic.
Locking her legs around his waist, Roni bit his bottom lip hard. “Then make me take it.”
He slammed into her, groaning as her muscles clamped around him. Her back arched as a gasp flew out of her. “Feel me,” he whispered harshly, flexing his cock. “You’re mine, Roni.” He possessively fisted a hand in her hair and tugged. “All mine.” His jaw clenched as he powered into her, so deep he knew he was in her womb. His pounding was ruthless, and his pace was relentless as he claimed her with every stroke.
Clinging to him, Roni met every demanding thrust—taking what he gave her, wanting more. His mouth landed on hers, thrusting his tongue inside; they shared breaths, moans, pants, and gasps. Meanwhile, sensation and friction built, winding her tighter and tighter. “I’m close.” His response was to reach a hand between their bodies and circle her clit with his thumb—that was when her climax crept up on her.
As he felt her pussy begin to flutter around him, Marcus groaned. “Yes, sweetheart, come hard for me.” He dug his teeth into her throat, tasting blood, licking and sucking to ensure that his brand could never be mistaken for anything else. At the same time, her body contracted around him as she screamed his name and her claws pierced the flesh of his back. Then her teeth locked on his shoulder and sank deep. The pleasure-pain shoved him over the edge and he exploded deep inside her, coming harder than he’d ever come before in his life.
Roni’s breath trapped in her throat as her back bowed. A brief flash of pain sliced through her head, but it was quickly soothed away by the warm feelings that washed through her—feelings of home and safety and rightness. They were soppy and weird and unfamiliar, but they also settled her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
More important than that, she could feel Marcus. Feel him in her, over her, all around her . . . almost as if they shared the same skin—a sensation she knew she’d feel even when they were apart. She couldn’t see the bond, but she could feel it as surely as she could feel her connection to her arm. She could sense what Marcus was feeling as it hummed through the bond: pure masculine satisfaction. Although not yet fully developed, the bond was stable and vibrant. “Can you feel what I’m feeling?”
Marcus nodded, licking over his claiming mark. He’d felt everything she’d felt—experienced every single flicker of emotion, every sensation, every bit of wonder. “Balanced.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t trust it.”
He laughed, liking the mischief in her eyes. “Why shouldn’t you feel balanced, sweetheart? You’re anchored now.”