Wild Wolf
Page 40

“I’ll never just have sex with you. If I take you, it will be a mate thing, and nothing less. You know that, damn you.”
“I don’t know anything about you, Graham.” Misty rested her hand on his chest, feeling his heart banging hard beneath his hot skin. “You never tell me.”
Another growl, this one rumbling long and low. Graham twisted her skirt open, the buttons holding it pinging to the floor. Her panties came next, skimmed off over her legs before he sat her on the counter again.
“There’s nothing to know,” Graham said. “Nothing I want to talk about.”
Shutting her out. As usual. His gray eyes held old pain, worry that went back to long before she’d met him. Misty caressed his face, wanting in, wanting him.
Graham slid his fingers behind her bu**ocks and tugged her to the front of the counter. At the same time, he dropped to his knees, spread open her thighs, and plunged his mouth over her opening.
Misty choked back a scream. The cubs were asleep upstairs—Graham had to be insane. At least she’d pulled the blind down on the window behind her. Other blinds were open, though, the light in the kitchen haloing Graham while he licked her.
Misty’s thoughts fizzled off into nothing. All she knew was sensation—Graham’s strong tongue finding her depths, his hands hard on her thighs, his mouth on her. Drinking, licking, suckling.
She wound into dizziness. The water in the sink slowly drained, the stopper having worked loose, a little droplet from the almost shut-off faucet spattering on the water’s surface. Misty curled her toes, her legs swinging as heat poured over her. She pressed her fingers into Graham’s short hair, holding on, her head thrown back. The light made spangles on the ceiling, reflections moving softly.
The water’s ripples became waves of sensations Graham poured into her. Misty heard moans come from her mouth, and she pressed her fist against her lips to stop them.
Before she knew it, she was bumping against the counter, barely able to stay on, her moans turning to little cries, still muffled by her fist. Graham was merciless. He kept drinking her, tasting, driving her wild.
She was going to die, and he’d be laughing. Graham went on, suckling, drinking, thrusting into her with his tongue. No sex had ever been this good, and it wouldn’t be again, unless it was with Graham.
Misty’s first climax finished, and another came hard on its heels. She heard herself begging him, and felt his laughter against her thighs. After the fourth time, Graham finally rose to his feet, gathering Misty to him while she shuddered and clung to him.
“Damn you,” she whispered.
Graham’s chuckle rumbled wonderfully beneath her ear. “I was thirsty.”
Misty raised her head. Graham smiled down at her, his eyes dark, something in him relaxed and loosened.
Still, he looked way too smug. The smile said Graham knew he’d taken her to new heights, and he could do it again if he wanted.
Misty reached up and closed her teeth around his earlobe. Graham’s hold loosened while he took a sharp breath, and Misty slid off the counter. She kept going, all the way down to her knees.
“No.” Graham’s hand fell heavily on her shoulder, but too late. Misty grasped the base of his long c**k and quickly closed her mouth around it.
 • • •
No. No, no, no.
Graham had to stop her. Tell her to get up, dress herself, and get her ass out of his house.
He balled his fists as Misty’s mouth moved, lips stretched to take him all in. He groaned. “Holy Mother Goddess.”
Misty pulled him closer. The Goddess wasn’t going to answer Graham’s prayer, but maybe she had answered it. Misty kept on with him, moving her tongue across the underside of his cock, licking him, nibbling a little.
Graham’s burning thirst, now that he wasn’t drinking Misty, had come roaring back, but for the moment, he didn’t care. His lower body was spreading its pleasure to the rest of him, rendering his dry throat a minor issue.
Graham’s hips began moving, slowly at first, then faster as Misty continued. She pulled him into her, tighter, encouraging him.
Damn the woman. She was torturing him. Punishing him for making her come four times and liking it.
Graham clenched his fists harder, feeling his nails crease his palms. The small pain was lost in the swamping need that poured through him, making every good intention evaporate like water from the desert floor.
He wanted to mate with this woman, take her in every position he knew and some he’d never tried. He wanted to curl up with Misty in the night, letting down every guard he’d ever put up, then wake up and take her again.
I want to mate with you under the light of the Mother Goddess and the Father God. I want you with me until we find the Summerland, and then float into brightness with you after that.
I want you sun and moon, body and soul. Joined. Forever.
Graham wanted her sweetness, her smile, her softness. And he wanted sex. Pure, wild, raw sex.
He touched Misty’s sleek hair, stopping himself from bunching it in his fist. He was too strong; he could hurt her. He stroked the satiny length of it, breaking the binding that held it in the ponytail. Long, flowing, warm. Graham would make her wear it down all the time.
Misty’s tongue rubbed him, and her mouth pulled, teeth scraping a little. She pressed her fingers into the firm flesh of his bu**ocks, and then he felt one finger slide between his cheeks.
The feeling was explosive. Graham threw his head back, words coming out of his mouth, but he had no idea what they were. He thought he said love in there, as well as plenty of swear words.
“Damn,” he said, and then he came.
Graham stopped himself pressing Misty to him, urging her to take him. But she didn’t let go. She drank him down as Graham spilled his seed, knowing he had to have this woman forever.
He rocked against her for a long time, the house around them silent except for the soft sounds of their pleasure. The intense joy that gripped him eased down into a warmth that was no less joyful.
Misty drew back, releasing him, and picked up a fallen towel to wipe her mouth. Graham found himself on the floor with her, gathering her to his lap, closing his arms all the way around her. He rocked her there, kissing her hair, drowning himself in her warmth and scent.
Misty brushed fingertips over his rough, unshaven cheek, her smile quiet. “There,” she said. “I knew I could wipe the grin off your face.”