Rhyannon Byrd - Dark Wolf Returning

His eyes were still angry and hot, but the corner of his mouth kicked up in one of those deliciously wicked, crooked grins that had always made her melt. “Baby, I can’t seem to think about anything else.”

“Try—harder,” she sniped. “Because I’m seriously not interested in being your sloppy seconds, Eli.”

It seemed to take him a moment to figure out what she was getting at, and then his expression darkened. “I didn’t touch the blonde,” he told her, biting out each word.

A harsh, humorless laugh jerked up from her chest. “Oh, really? So she just happened to pick your random lap to pass out in last night?”

That muscle started to pulse in his jaw again, the day’s growth of stubble looking damn good on him. “What she was doing there isn’t any of your business.”

“Exactly!” she yelled, shoving hard at his shoulders. “So get the hell away from me!”

Catching her wrists, he pinned them against the door on either side of her head, the tight tips of her breasts pushing into his muscular chest as he pressed even closer.

“Tell me you don’t feel this the same way that I do,” he said against her lips, rubbing them softly with his. “Tell me and I’ll leave you alone, Rey.”

“Damn you,” she moaned.

He laughed roughly, the low sound deep and dark and sumptuous, like he was suddenly feeling happy and hungry all at the same time. “That’s what I thought, baby.”

And then, before she could blink or scream or draw her next breath, his mouth covered hers and his hands left her wrists, laying claim to her body. His touch was aggressive, greedy, as if he’d wanted the feel of her under his hands for too damn long to control himself, while his kisses were...mouthwatering. Slow, deep, and deliciously intimate, his tongue stroking and rubbing, while he ate at the shivery, needy sounds that she made. He’d only just started this...this...whatever this was, and she was already lost, sinking into the moment like a weighted body being pulled deeper and deeper into the sea. Drowning...no longer even trying to resist. She only wanted to fall deeper because she’d been just as desperately starved for the feel and touch and taste of him. She didn’t even remember moving her hands when he released her wrists, but they were fisted in his shaggy hair, the silky strands so warm and thick against her fingers. She pulled him tighter against her, lost in the slick, explicit kiss that made her think of his powerful body moving and thrusting into hers. It was that intense. That raw and hungry and achingly erotic.

When he pulled his head back and suddenly buried his face against the side of her throat, Carla gulped at the cool air, her lungs starved. He was rolling his hips against hers, one hand shoved up under her shirt and bra, molding her heavy breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching the throbbing nipple, while his other hand gripped her hip, jerking her against him. She crawled up his hard, rugged body and wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him what he wanted. He notched the thick, heavy ridge of his erection against her jeans-covered sex and thrust against her, stroking her clit at just the right angle, and she cried out as her head shot back, hitting the door, the husky sound of her shout echoing off the room’s dingy walls.

“Need it in my hand,” he growled against her throat, breathing hard, his voice little more than an animal’s primitive snarl. His mouth was directly over the place where he’d started to mark her all those years ago, and she wondered if he even realized. “I need it now, Rey.”

In a distant part of her mind, she knew this was...wrong. Foolish. Dangerous. To her heart and her pride. She wasn’t meant to fall into his arms...or crawl up his body, holding him as if she wanted to crawl right inside of him. Claim him. Keep him. Forever. She knew that, damn it, but it didn’t matter. When he was touching her, the hot, drugging scent of him filling her head, his exquisite taste on her lips, nothing else mattered but him. Needing him. Wanting him. Getting him.

“Please,” she heard herself beg, too desperate to even care that she was pleading with him. With the monster who had broken her heart. “God, Eli. Please!”

His lungs worked hard as he ripped at the buttons on her jeans, his mouth hot against her skin. His tongue stroked across her racing pulse point just as he shoved his hand into the front of her cotton panties, the fabric already drenched with her juices. His fingers delved, separating her slick folds, searching out the small, sensitive opening. He circled it, before pushing inside, working that long finger deep into her tender, clutching tissues while his thumb found the tiny knot of her clit and started playing it...stroking it...faster and faster. He pushed in a second finger, forcing her body to stretch and take it, and her hips rolled, needing them deeper. Needing to be full of him.

“Jesus, Rey. You’re just as tight and soft as I remember,” he groaned, each roughly spoken word laden with something, with some unnamed emotion, that made her want to scream at him for breaking her heart and destroying what they’d had. “I’ve fucking dreamed about this so many times.”

“Eli,” she gasped, sinking her nails into his shoulders, the pain in her heart momentarily forgotten as he used his fingers to drive her wild, thrusting them hard and deep, stretching her in a way that felt so good she could feel tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, her throat shaking. She needed him inside her. Not just his fingers, but the thick, engorged shaft she could feel him grinding against her hip. Needed him on top of her, his body hard and heavy and hot against hers, while he shoved all those brutal inches inside her until she was clenching around him, milking him, lost in the most mind-blowing climax of her life.

Her sex was creamy and swollen and ripe, ready for whatever he wanted to give her. Fingers. Tongue. Cock. She was aching and desperate for every part of him, same as she’d been every night that she’d dreamed of him since he’d left her. Even years before then, when she’d wanted nothing more than for him to make her his, always waiting...and waiting. But he was fighting it. She could tell. Resisting with everything that he had, and it frightened her to think of why. Why she wasn’t enough for him. Why he’d always struggled against their connection with such ferocity.

Fight back! Resist! Damn it, she should be tossing the rejection she could feel coming right back in his face, but she...she couldn’t. As he touched her between her legs, his rough fingers stroking through those slick, plump folds with such perfect skill, making her gasp...arch...shiver, the only thing she was willing to fight for was more.

But as with everything else when it came to this man, she was destined to lose.

One moment his fingers were buried deep, bringing her to the cusp of a shattering orgasm, and in the next she was empty, his palm pressed tight against her sex, cupping her, holding her...and she could feel the smooth, hot slide of his fangs against her vulnerable throat. Ohmygod! Did he want to bite her? What on earth was going on with him?

His body was pressed so rigidly against hers, and she sensed his...pain. A visceral, devastating, burning agony. He cursed hoarsely, and she felt the first tremor that rocked through him, followed quickly by a second, until he was shaking so hard in her arms it made her teeth chatter.

“E-Eli?” she stammered through lips that were salty with her tears.

He quickly set her on her feet and pushed away from her with a choked roar, his eyes hooded and bright as he clenched his teeth. His dark brows were drawn with an emotion she could have sworn was anguish. Something had stopped him, but the bond was too weak and his emotions were too intense for her to read him clearly. Which was perhaps a good thing. Whatever had caused him to pull away from her, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.