Driftwood - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,11

he pulled her (his, really) T-shirt off with one rip down the back. Not to be outdone by a mortal, she did the same. She hoped he had a stash of Clark Gable-type T-shirts somewhere, because he was now short two.

They tripped and hit the couch, Burke on the bottom, and she broke free and groaned at the ceiling. A bad idea with a full mouth; she caught a rill of blood with her thumb, then sucked on it.

"Good?" he asked.

"Burke. Oh man. You just don't know."

"It's my high-fat diet," he said seriously, staring at her tits. "Um. All nipples. Come here."

"Your high-fat diet includes nipples?"

"Shhh." His arm circled around her and he pulled her down, sucking greedily, even biting her gently, and she wriggled against him, pushing at her shorts, pulling at his.

She kissed the top of his head and shoved her breasts harder into his face, delighting in the feel of his mouth on her flesh. "Oh, Burke." She sighed.

"Mmmph."

"Not to put any pressure on you. But Reagan was in the White House the last time I got laid."

Her nipple slid from his mouth with a popping sound and he replied, "That's the opposite of pressure. It's been so long, you probably don't remember what good sex is."

"Come on!" she screeched, delighted. "It's like riding a bike."

"Hardly," he grunted, seizing her by the thighs and levering her over his mouth. She clutched the back of the sofa to keep her balance and promptly went out of her mind as his tongue searched, darted, stabbed. She couldn't imagine the upper-body strength he had, how he could so effortlessly hold her entire weight just above his mouth. The sheer physics of it was—was she thinking about physics?

Get your head in the game or you'll miss it. Good advice. Not to mention, she could feel his tongue all over, not just where… where it actually was. Umm. She shuddered all over and thrust against his face, no more able to stop her movements than she could have given up blood. And her orgasm was upon her like the finest rush imaginable, surging out of nowhere and shocking the shit out of her—she had never been one to come in less than five minutes, never mind less than five seconds.

She lost her grip but he did not, and the momentum brought them both tumbling to the floor, smashing the coffee table in three pieces on the way. Neither of them especially cared. They had one goal, and that was Serena's penetration: a shattered coffee table could not have been more irrelevant.

Burke crushed her lips beneath his mouth and shoved her legs apart with his knee; she locked her ankles behind his back as he pushed into her with no niceties and no apologies—just what she wanted, needed, silently demanded. Their bellies smacked together faster and faster, and they clawed and bit their way to mutual orgasm.

"Oh man," she said when she could talk.

"Hush."

"I'd fall down, if there was anywhere to fall."

"I knew you'd wreck this by speaking."

"Aw, shut it."

He brushed splinters out of her hair. "You owe me furniture."

"Ha! After that, you owe me a hundred bucks."

"Is that the going rate these days?"

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I just said that to sound tough." She was silent, considering. "I have no idea why I just said that, either."

"Well. You are tough." He gently disengaged from her limbs, picked her up like a doll and put her on the couch. He looked rueful as he examined the various shredded cloth that had been two outfits only five minutes ago, then said, "I'm ready for a burger or a steak or something. Are you—" He touched the bite wound on his neck. "Full?"

"Sure. Like I said before, we only need a little bit. But maybe you shouldn't be jumping around like that," she warned, getting up to put a hand on his arm—too late, he had already darted into the kitchen. "Sometimes vie—people are a little light-headed after I—"

He snorted, his head deep inside the fridge. "Eggs would be good. Eggs with a side of eggs. And a hamburger. Two hamburgers."

"I can hear your cholesterol going up, just listening." She was amazed at how energized he was. Werewolf, she reminded herself. All the time, not just during the full moon.

He brought down a bowl, rapidly cracked a dozen eggs into it, found a fork, and started whisking.

She came over to him and stared at the eggs. "Do you miss solid food?" he asked.

"No.