Jodi Redford - Cat Scratch Fever

Unconscious of her actions, she reached up and traced her fingertips over his jaw. “Hmm, definitely soft and ticklish.”

A wicked sparkle danced in Dante’s eyes. “Were you having dirty thoughts about my beard?”

“Possibly.”

“Tell me what you were thinking.”

The husky persuasion in his voice proved to be her ultimate downfall. “I was wondering what it’d feel like on certain parts of my body.”

Dante licked his lips in a way that was incredibly…wolfish. “I can show you firsthand.”

The heat simmering inside her kicked into full boil. Dante’s nostrils flared, and the intensity in his eyes sharpened. “Christ. I smell how fucking turned on you are.”

“I can’t help it.” She swallowed hard and squirmed against the cushion. “It’s the hormones.”

“No, it’s more than that. And you know it.” His face inched closer until his breath mingled with hers. “You want me, Lilly. Admit it.”

“I don’t know what’s bigger—your ego, or your self-delusions.”

He gave her a predatory grin that prompted flutters in her stomach. “Neither is any match for the size of my cock. But then you already know that.”

He would have to bring up his impressive package at a time like this. Now she couldn’t get the damn thing out of her mind. Which wasn’t helping her present condition at all. “Another check mark for your massive eg—” The remainder of her comeback fell victim to the firm, sinful pressure of his mouth on hers. A shaky whimper escaped her. Dante took that as a convenient invitation to thrust his tongue past her lips.

She’d experienced plenty of kisses in her life. Not one of them came close to competing with the consuming hunger inherent in Dante’s. She could taste his desire. Feel his single-minded focus on her. It swept her up and left her breathless. His fingers tunneled insistently in her hair, angling her head back for a deeper exploration of her mouth. His tongue coaxed hers into play, and she eagerly obliged. God, she wanted to eat him up with a spoon. And that made absolutely no sense, considering how arrogant, obnoxious… chauvinistic… and… and…

She lost her train of thought as his roving hands massaged her breasts through her top. Inspired to do her own exploring, she smoothed her palms over Dante’s broad shoulders, trying to drag him closer and tug his flannel shirt off at the same time.

He pulled back, revealing an expression dark with passion. “There’s not enough room on this chair for us both. How about if we continue this on the couch?”

“My bed is bigger.” The suggestion popped free before she could halt it. Grinding her teeth at her loud-mouthed inner slut, she waited for Dante to smirk and lob an appropriately lewd crack at her. Instead, he scooped her into his arms, knocking the bag of Brussels sprouts onto the ground. He was careful with her ankle, something she appreciated—though honestly, she didn’t even register any discomfort anymore. Likely the improvised icepack had done the trick. That, or lust had blindsided her to the point all other sensations had skulked into the farthest recesses of her consciousness.

He walked down the short hallway and paused between the two open bedroom doors. “Which one?”

She pointed to the doorway to the left of them, and he strode inside the small room. He carefully arranged her on top of the patchwork quilt before stretching out beside her. His mouth found the tender spot beneath her ear and quickly discovered how easy it was to reduce her into a quivery, gasping wreck. She tore at his shirt again, desperate to touch warm flesh rather than flannel. This time he obeyed her wishes and released the top few buttons before growing impatient and yanking the garment over his head and tossing it aside. She snuggled against him, a happy purr leaking free.

He groaned and coasted his fingers along the curve of her spine. “Fuck, that’s sexy. Do you always purr like that?”

“Usually only when I’m in the middle of a heat cycle.”

His hand slid beneath her top and cupped her breast through the thin mesh of her bra. He rubbed her nipple with his thumb, and she arched into him. A feral growl rumbled from deep in his chest. “I wanna get you nekkid.”

“Oh God, yes .” So much for keeping her inner slut out of this.

Thankfully he required no further prompting and made short work divesting her of her top and bra. The rapt way he stared at her breasts brought a fresh surge of moisture between her legs. She whimpered as his hand splayed over her mound.

“I don’t even need to touch you to know how fucking wet you are.”

She didn’t doubt it. The clear evidence of her arousal scenting the air made it pretty damn impossible to miss. With Dante’s supersensitive nose, it was probably a thousand times more noticeable. She got her verification when he buried his face in the valley of her cleavage and inhaled with a lusty moan. His pupils dilated, making his eyes look exceptionally dark and predatory.

Witnessing the raw, animalistic hunger riding his features speared a sharp spike of excitement through her, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded. Plumping her breasts with his hands, he sucked her nipple between his teeth and laved it into a stiff, turgid peak with his tongue. Gasping, she wiggled on the mattress, shamelessly undulating against the hand he’d kept wedged between her legs. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as the consuming need inside her became an agonizing torment. She tugged at his hair, panting, and he finally lifted his gaze to hers.

He must have read the desperation in her eyes because he reached for her zipper and worked it down. Repositioning himself, he gently eased her pants and bikini down her legs before spreading her thighs enough to make room for his wide shoulders. His thumbs slid through the wetness coating her labia and held her open to his hot, devouring gaze. A millisecond later, his tongue swirled over her clit. She jolted at the intense sensation, her limbs trembling, but Dante’s big hands kept her hips pinned to the mattress and her pussy available for his feasting. And oh God , that was exactly what she felt like—the main entree in a luscious, decadent werewolf Happy Meal.

Unlike some males she’d been unlucky enough to experience oral sex with, Dante clearly knew what he was doing. He savored her pussy like it was the most delicious treat he’d ever eaten. Succulent plunges of his tongue inside her soaked channel alternated with teasing flickers and lazy, wet swipes across her slippery, distended clit. Her body jerked uncontrollably with each passing lap of his tongue. The soft abrasion of his beard scruff along her sensitive tissues only drove her faster and faster toward that dazzling peak in the rapidly approaching distance. Her chest impossibly heavy, she fought for breath.

“D-Dante, I’m going to—” A strained cry ripped from her as the lush, powerful orgasm slammed into her with blinding impact. She shuddered, cradling his head in her hands as she held on for dear life.

Eventually the quakes faded to a wonderful glow that left her limp and sated. Her murmur contented, she let go of Dante. His silky hair sifting free of her fingers, he gave a final lingering suckle on her clit and lifted his head. Licking his lips, he leaned upward to kiss her. She caressed his jaw, her fingers becoming damp with her own wetness. She lowered her hand to brush it on the quilt, but Dante gripped her fingers and sucked them into his mouth. Despite the magnificent orgasm he’d just given her, a renewed tickle of need fluttered low in her belly.

He reluctantly let go of her fingers. “I could become addicted to your taste.”

She offered him a cheeky grin. “Feel free to slake your thirst whenever you’d like.”