He growled.
Shay raised her head to look at him and saw eyes gone wolf and a mouth full of clenched fangs. “Want something?” she teased with a smile and canted her hips, cushioning his penis like a sausage between a hot dog bun.
“Fuck. Me!”
“In time,” she promised.
His grip tightened, and his claws stung as they pricked her skin.
Shay rocked her cradle back and forth, causing his shaft to stroke her clit at just the right angle. “We’ve never done it slow,” she mused, meeting his gaze.
Rory hesitated. She could see impatience and sheer need warring with the desire to give her what she wanted. Desire to please her won, barely, but the tide could switch at any moment. He grunted his assent and made an effort to relax. As a reward, Shay canted her hips and took him inside. Due to their angle, only the tip and a bit of the shaft sank in. Shay rode the head, patiently realigning their bodies whenever he slipped out. And she resumed tormenting his now straining neck with her bites.
“Take all of me!”
“Not yet,” she murmured.
Shay never knew the mouth of her vagina was so sensitive. She was enjoying him right where he was.
“Deeper.”
“Not…yet.”
“Too much,” he snarled.
“Quit…whining.”
Shay worked her way up to his ear and murmured soft words, erotic words, words of love and devotion. Words she’d never have had the courage to say if passion weren’t clouding her mind and lust giving her heart the boost it needed to override reticence born from an inherent need to protect herself. As she spoke, she remained in constant motion, riding the same two inches until her breath came in gasps, her eyes crossed, and beads of sweat rolled down her forehead.
She was so wet. Shay glanced between their bodies. Rory’s cock glistened with the juices flowing from her to pool in his pubic hair. Her scent, the smell of sex, filled the room.
Beneath her, Rory rumbled like a volcano. His dick lengthened and swelled until two inches became four. The swollen veins abraded her sensitive tissue like nubbins on a dildo, and Shay’s eyes rolled back into her head.
It was torture keeping to the same steady, slow pace. Everything in her wanted to move faster, go deeper, thrust down harder, but she clenched her teeth, dug her nails in his chest, and resisted. By God, for once they were going to take their time. She only hoped Rory knew CPR because her heart was doing its best to pound out of her rib cage.
“Come, Shay.”
“Not…yet.” Her voice broke, and she almost sobbed from the intensity of what she was feeling.
“Come!” He reached between them, delicately folded back the hood partially covering her clit, and strummed the bud with his claw. Once, twice, three times.
Shay’s muscles seized. She froze for one heartbeat, then another. Then she exploded. The force threw her shoulders and head back and ripped a scream from her throat. She lost sense of her surroundings. All she knew was the pulsing of her vagina and the pounding of her heart.
When Shay returned to awareness, she had seven feet of werewolf, drawn tight as a bowstring beneath her, and her head was pillowed on his pelted sternum. Shay licked her lips in anticipation and held on for the ride to come.
Chapter Eight
Rory gritted his teeth and forced back his wolf. It snarled and fought, but Rory’s will was stronger and at this moment, what he wanted more than anything was to make love with his mate like she’d requested. Rory, the man, not Rory, the wolf. He beat it down, pushed it back, and shut it down, but the effort cost him.
“What happened?”
“What?” he bit out, still dealing with the pain his wolf had inflicted.
Shay touched his chest with a finger. “Your fur’s receded.” She stroked his arm down to his hand and raised it to eye level. “Claws retracted.” She lifted her head and gazed at him, her face flushed and eyes lazy with satiation, brows furrowed in puzzlement. “No fangs. What gives?”
“No wolf this time. Just me.”
Shay continued to stare. In displeasure?
“Is that a problem?” he asked uncertainly. Shay accepted, even encouraged his beast, but would she welcome the man?
Her expression changed to something Rory wasn’t sure he liked. Something that left him feeling like a specimen under a microscope. “Why are you speaking of yourself like you’re two different entities? Furry or not, it’s all you, isn’t it?”
Rory let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “In a manner of speaking, aye.” Shay accepted him, all of him. The realization had his waning arousal surging through him with a vengeance.
“What’s that supposed to mean? The wolf’s in you, but it’s still a part of you, right?” She frowned. “Or is it completely separate? This whole shifter thing is so confusing. Is my inner wolf me, or a totally separate entity? And when I shift, does she merge with me or—”
Rory deftly flipped them over so that he was on top and rose to his knees. “Later. Right now I’ve something else in mind.”
A slow, cheeky grin crossed her face. “Is that right? And would that something have anything to do with this?” Shay reached out and grabbed his cock in her small hand, giving it a slow pump.
Rory hissed and felt his wolf jerk on its leash. “Aye. None of that,” he ordered, catching her by the wrist before she could weaken his control. “Lie back. It’s my turn now.”
“Like this?” Shay reclined on the mattress, arms over her head, thighs spread wide, opening her sex fully to his gaze.
He looked her over from head to hips. His, every last, luscious inch of her. The gift he’d never dared ask for, never dared dream he could have. A mate. And not just any mate—a true mate. A gift from the Creator, crafted especially for him. A woman who loved him in spite of his flaws, and if that weren’t enough, a babe—the fruit of their love.
Once again doubts arose.
“I’m a hard man, Shayla,” he said grimly as though confessing a great sin.
“I’ll say.” Shay gazed at his erection, an amorous glint in her eye. “And getting harder by the moment.”
“I’ll mess up,” he continued. “I’m not a man of soft touches, flowery speeches, and all that romantic crap women want and need. Any tenderness was beat out of me long ago.”
Shay looked him dead in the eyes. “Bull.”
He shook his head, determined not to let her make light of what he was saying. “It’s the truth. I won’t want to, but I’ll hurt you if you expect more.”
She looked at him, gauging his mood, then scrambled to her knees. Instead of confronting him as he expected, she placed her arms around his neck and put her face inches from his. “I am not your mother, and you’re damned sure not your father. So get that into your head, first. I know you, Rory McFelan. You’re a pain in my ass half the time. You don’t take shit off anyone, including me. But then, neither do I, so we’re well matched there. If you act like an asshole, I’ll tell you. If I want or need something I’m not getting, you can bet your sweet, luscious ass I’ll demand it. I won’t whine, mope, or sulk in some corner like a child. And if I do go quiet on you, baby, watch out.”
It made him smile. He must be demented to find pleasure in his woman threatening him.
“Rory,” she continued in her serious, un-Shay-like manner. “I see you. Yes, I give you hell, but I do it because I know you. I’ve watched how you are with Shannon. Paid attention to the way you’ve been with me since I’ve been back. Hell, even before I left. You’re tender with those you care about. Protective, loving, in your crazy-assed ‘I’m the alpha’ way. It’s enough. More than enough. Any more and I’d need drugs, or a really big bat, to deal with you.”