Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(67)

“Wulfe . . .”

His gaze roamed her face, his eyes incandescent with heat and tenderness. “You are so lovely.” Unsteady fingers slid into her hair, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

With her own hands, she stroked his chest, then began yanking his T-shirt out of his jeans, the need to feel his flesh against hers a monstrous thing.

“Make love to me, Wulfe.” Her hands slid under his shirt, against his warm, solid flesh. Electricity arced between them, making her gasp. Between her legs, she began to throb. “I need you.”

His big hands rose to her br**sts, making her cry out with pleasure and frantic desire. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

“You won’t. You won’t ever hurt me.” Her fingers moved to his waistband, and she began to unfasten his jeans.

His hands stopped her. “I’m big, Natalie. And you’re human.” His voice shook. His forehead tipped to hers, his breathing ragged. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose control.”

She reached up, gripped his face, and kissed him hard. “I want you to do that, Wulfe. I want that.”

He resisted for all of a second and a half, then he was hauling her tight, kissing her madly, doing precisely what she’d asked him to, at last. In the same fierce, tender manner that Wulfe did everything, he lost control.

Chapter Eighteen

Wulfe was going to die if he didn’t soon slide inside the woman in his arms, his Natalie, his heart. Fire and beauty and laughter, she was everything to him. Everything.

He tore at her clothes as she tugged at his jeans and T-shirt until they were both breathing hard, both wild with need. They came together in the middle of the room, mouths fusing, her sweet br**sts tight against his chest, the skin of her back, her rear, like warm silk beneath his shaking fingertips.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as he kissed her, inhaled her, her tongue rubbing against his with as much desperation as her hips rocked against his thick erection. Never had he known such a violent need to join his body with another’s.

His hands roamed her back, her flesh, her hair. He couldn’t get enough. He would never get enough of her. Swinging her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and tossed her into the middle, tearing a husky laugh from her throat. As she grinned at him, watching him with eyes that gleamed like polished silver, his heart contracted tight and hard. When had he known such exhilaration, such pure joy?

With a low laugh, he followed her down, his mouth finding her neck, her breast, sucking hard as his hand burrowed between her legs. The moment he touched her in that sensitive spot, she cried out and rocked against him as if desperate for his touch. She was open, wet, ready.

Wonder barreled through him that this woman, this beautiful, marvelous, brilliant woman wanted him. Him.

He lifted his head from her breast and looked at her, meeting her incandescent gaze.

“You take my breath away.”

“As you take mine.”

His hand fisted gently in her hair, and he kissed her with an urgency that bordered on madness even as he shoved a finger deep inside of her. She moaned into his mouth, then began to whimper with need, rocking against him, kissing him like a wildcat, shattering with the sexiest, throatiest of cries.

She pulled back, desperate, her fingers clawing at his shoulders. “Come inside me. Please. Now.”

His body tensed, terrified he’d be too much for her. But she wasn’t a small woman, and maybe, maybe it would be all right. His c**k found her moist welcome, and she surged up, swallowing the tip of him with a moan of pure pleasure. Wulfe held back, holding on to his last thread of control, but Natalie was having none of that.

Her hands gripped his head. “Don’t tease. I need you.”

Oh, goddess. With a groan of pure pleasure, he sank deep into her wetness, into her tight, slick channel, amazed when he felt no resistance to his width. He was a tight fit, but she was big enough. And far more importantly, ready for him.

Rocking against him, she swallowed him deeper, and deeper still, until he’d sunk up to his balls. Goddess have mercy, she’d taken all of him. With a growl of pure need, he pulled almost free of her and sank all the way to the hilt again.

Natalie’s back arched, her mouth falling open. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Make love to me, Wulfe. Hard.”

As he drove into her, his vision became bathed in a golden light, a light that seemed to settle inside of him, warm and wonderful. Love.

Natalie’s eyes widened as if she felt it, too. Then she smiled and threw her head back, moaning with pleasure. “Harder, Wulfe, harder.”

He ground his hips into hers until sweat slicked their bodies, until they were both grunting and groaning, racing to the top of the highest peak. And beyond. Far, far beyond. As they approached that far-flung precipice, their gazes met, locked, and Natalie smiled as her orgasm began to roll through her, an arrow straight to his heart.

With her body contracting around him, her low, sexy cries filling his ears, he came with a roar, the beauty of the moment, the perfection, beyond words, beyond imagining.

And then she began to laugh, that throaty laugh that shot straight to his groin, as he collapsed, spent, on top of her. Not wanting to crush her, he forced himself to roll, taking her with him, still buried to his balls inside of her. Her golden halo of hair flew around her face as she righted, and she laughed again, then covered his mouth with hers, kissing him as if he’d just given her the world.