fire. She wasn’t a wolf, but… She was his. A part of him ached to do it, and just the thought of seeing his mark on her skin made him want to come. Unable to resist, he pushed her shirt away, baring one of her shoulders, pulling her bra strap aside.
Her exposed, milky flesh called to him, making his blood sing in his veins. What would she say if he suggested it? Did she even know how wolf shifters marked their mates? Would she think he was crazy – barbaric – or would she be turned on by the idea? He could even think of a way to let her reciprocate, somehow…
A frisson raced down his spine at the idea of her returning the branding – the idea of bleeding for her – and blossomed into heat in his groin, reminding him how hard his dick was, how badly he needed to feel her wrapped around it. Throbbing, he looked down, past her shoulder, and saw that her shirt gaped, exposing her cleavage to his view.
Her bra had slid down on the side where he’d loosened the strap, and her breast spilled over the top of the cup, one pink nipple pointing in a hardened peak. He groaned and bent, trailing kisses over her collarbone, his mouth watering.
Her nipple shrank as soon as his lips brushed it, going even harder, her skin pebbling as he dragged the tip of his tongue across the bud, circled it, then drew it deep into his mouth.
She arched against him and he sucked harder, cupping her breast from below, through her shirt. Her flesh was soft and sweet and hotter than he’d expected, heaven to have inside his mouth. He was too ravenous to be gentle, but she seemed to like it, digging her nails into his shirt and scraping his chest as she gasped, arching until her back was bowed beneath his hand, a perfect curve.
When a loud banging noise shattered the sounds of her pleasure, only fighting instincts honed by years of hunting and being hunted allowed him to pull away, shoving his lust aside as the world went dark around him.
CHAPTER 3
Kimberly gave one more shuddering gasp as Michael straightened, released her, and turned toward the door, ready to tear apart whoever was knocking so obnoxiously.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins, splintering his desire into jagged, needle-sharp pieces as he reached for the knob. It wasn’t likely to be a member of the pack – not when Kimberly had just spoken with Mandy on the phone. Besides, whoever was there was knocking like an idiot, rattling the door in its frame as Michael twisted the knob.
“What the hell’s going on?” His anger spiked as he laid eyes on a thirty-something man with dark brown eyes and hair, dressed in khakis and a t-shirt that was stretched tight over a generous paunch. Behind him, a tall red-headed male and a young, raven-haired female stood to either side.
“I believe you’re in our cabin.” The khakied ringleader looked Michael up and down, his eyes darting above cheeks that had been reddened by the effort of knocking so vigorously. “ Sir .”
“You’ve got the wrong one. This cabin is booked.” He eyed the nearby road, shadowed by pines and the star-studded night. “Good luck finding the place you’re lookin’ for.” He pushed the door shut, but the obnoxious tourist had the nerve to stick out a foot, wedging a tennis shoe between the door and the frame. “Pine Ridge Road. Cabin Number 4. This is the right place – it’s right there.” He jabbed a finger at the number by the door.
“This may be Cabin Number 4, but it’s not your cabin.” Michael resisted the urge to simply shove the man out of the way, maybe blacken his eye for good measure, considering the hour – it was well past midnight. The intrusion would’ve been ludicrous in any circumstance, and given what it had interrupted…
Michael ground his teeth, longing for his fangs as a growl threatened to erupt in the pit of his chest despite the fact that he didn’t dare shift in front of these asshats. “We have this place rented and we’re not leavin’ any time soon,
Her exposed, milky flesh called to him, making his blood sing in his veins. What would she say if he suggested it? Did she even know how wolf shifters marked their mates? Would she think he was crazy – barbaric – or would she be turned on by the idea? He could even think of a way to let her reciprocate, somehow…
A frisson raced down his spine at the idea of her returning the branding – the idea of bleeding for her – and blossomed into heat in his groin, reminding him how hard his dick was, how badly he needed to feel her wrapped around it. Throbbing, he looked down, past her shoulder, and saw that her shirt gaped, exposing her cleavage to his view.
Her bra had slid down on the side where he’d loosened the strap, and her breast spilled over the top of the cup, one pink nipple pointing in a hardened peak. He groaned and bent, trailing kisses over her collarbone, his mouth watering.
Her nipple shrank as soon as his lips brushed it, going even harder, her skin pebbling as he dragged the tip of his tongue across the bud, circled it, then drew it deep into his mouth.
She arched against him and he sucked harder, cupping her breast from below, through her shirt. Her flesh was soft and sweet and hotter than he’d expected, heaven to have inside his mouth. He was too ravenous to be gentle, but she seemed to like it, digging her nails into his shirt and scraping his chest as she gasped, arching until her back was bowed beneath his hand, a perfect curve.
When a loud banging noise shattered the sounds of her pleasure, only fighting instincts honed by years of hunting and being hunted allowed him to pull away, shoving his lust aside as the world went dark around him.
CHAPTER 3
Kimberly gave one more shuddering gasp as Michael straightened, released her, and turned toward the door, ready to tear apart whoever was knocking so obnoxiously.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins, splintering his desire into jagged, needle-sharp pieces as he reached for the knob. It wasn’t likely to be a member of the pack – not when Kimberly had just spoken with Mandy on the phone. Besides, whoever was there was knocking like an idiot, rattling the door in its frame as Michael twisted the knob.
“What the hell’s going on?” His anger spiked as he laid eyes on a thirty-something man with dark brown eyes and hair, dressed in khakis and a t-shirt that was stretched tight over a generous paunch. Behind him, a tall red-headed male and a young, raven-haired female stood to either side.
“I believe you’re in our cabin.” The khakied ringleader looked Michael up and down, his eyes darting above cheeks that had been reddened by the effort of knocking so vigorously. “ Sir .”
“You’ve got the wrong one. This cabin is booked.” He eyed the nearby road, shadowed by pines and the star-studded night. “Good luck finding the place you’re lookin’ for.” He pushed the door shut, but the obnoxious tourist had the nerve to stick out a foot, wedging a tennis shoe between the door and the frame. “Pine Ridge Road. Cabin Number 4. This is the right place – it’s right there.” He jabbed a finger at the number by the door.
“This may be Cabin Number 4, but it’s not your cabin.” Michael resisted the urge to simply shove the man out of the way, maybe blacken his eye for good measure, considering the hour – it was well past midnight. The intrusion would’ve been ludicrous in any circumstance, and given what it had interrupted…
Michael ground his teeth, longing for his fangs as a growl threatened to erupt in the pit of his chest despite the fact that he didn’t dare shift in front of these asshats. “We have this place rented and we’re not leavin’ any time soon,
Similar Books
The Color of Ordinary Time
Virginia Voelker
Chasing the Dark
Sam Hepburn
A Step Beyond
Christopher K Anderson
Accidentally in Love
Claudia Dain
Silverhawk
Barbara Bettis
Dear Hank Williams
Kimberly Willis Holt
Duchess of Mine
Red L. Jameson
Too Sinful to Deny
Erica Ridley
Debts
Tammar Stein
The Secret Scripture
Sebastian Barry