2: Leer - Pack Takeover Read Online Free PDF Page A

head. Torn a little between wanting to run my fingers through his hair and push his head down lower, I, too, struggled with self-control. I knew then that I would never forget that night.
     
     
    I breathed, “Tell me you’re not gonna stop there.”
     
     
    He was quiet for a few minutes before he managed a chuckle, shook his head and began his kisses again. The trail this time was short. Or quick. I don’t know. Avoiding the patch of hair, he kissed around it. First down to the inside of one thigh, and across to the other.
     
     
    I was definitely frustrated at this point. Once or twice, his nose bumped into my crotch, but he was really avoiding it. Or so I thought. Now I know he was just…holding back, teasing me .
     
     
    So I tilted my hips. My hands found their way to his head. I guided him to where I wanted him to kiss.
     
     
    But those damn werewolf men…they have strong necks. Instead of narrowing in on my need, he flicked his tongue into the hair, kinda gnawed right there above the need. And that will drive you insane.
     
     
    Before long, I was writhing, pushing his head, begging. So, when he finally got to that, I was sopping wet down there. His tongue--wolves have some seriously long tongues--managed to lap at my juices. I could hear it--feel it. Like he was at a pond. First he lapped up the outer drips. Then his tongue got bolder, taking longer licks, firmer sucks.
     
     
    I felt his hands slide under me, helping me to get a better angle for his lapfest. He was having a party down there. And, oh my God! When he took it inside, I had nothing to do but grip the bed coverings and hang on.
     
     
    Were-men are experts at cunnilingus. Anything to do with tongue action, they got it down. Down and deep, super slurping licks--just the right pressure of their mouth on a woman’s.
     
     
    Slurp never was a sexy word to me before that night. But let me tell you, when a man is between your legs, greedily lapping up every spare droplet of your feminine juices--driving you to an edge you never saw coming--the lapping sound of him enjoying himself just heightens the pleasure. And when he reaches for the last of it, and you feel it all the way up inside of you, that tongue is a magic tool.
     
     
    I came in spasms. And he kept tickling the inner spot that causes them.
     
     
    But that wasn’t the end of it.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    When I was done coming, I just kind’ve threw my arms wide, closed my eyes and said, “Oh, my God! I’ve never experienced that before.”
     
     
    Leer’s head came up. Maybe he wasn’t done. He was still down there, after all.
     
     
    Sniffing?
     
     
    For all the sucking and lapping, I felt as wet as hell down there.
     
     
    Leer…leered with wolfish humor. “I aim to please.”
     
     
    “Jeez. That tongue of yours should be registered in Guinness.” It’s not like I was an expert or anything, but it was good. Phenomenal.
     
     
    I could feel his fingers--gently touching the folds of my labia. Probing.
     
     
    His golden gaze, a frown on his lips--concentration, I think… he asked, “How many men have you been with?”
     
     
    I shrugged. Honestly, I was still in that euphoric state. I didn’t want to think.
     
     
    I felt his tongue again. I had to smile. He was never gonna quit--and that was fine by me.
     
     
    He must’ve pressed my honesty button from the inside or something. I said, “Well, there was this one guy…in school. But that wasn’t very good.” He didn’t really get in , if you know what I mean. No prep. No foreplay. One dry push. It hurt. I made him get off of me.
     
     
    Leer said, “I’m big.”
     
     
    Now he was getting to cock conversation?
     
     
    I kind of laughed. “Don’t brag now.”
     
     
    He chuckled. “You’ve seen it. How would you categorize it?”
     
     
    I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I should cater to his ego--which would simply be telling the