Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,42
out of his pants, all the while holding her gaze. As he settled his hips between hers once more, she sat upright and scooted to the very edge of the couch. She grasped his shaft, inhaling sharply when he twitched in her hand. Throbbing as every ounce of blood swelled him tighter than he’d ever been, Drake let his head fall back and his hips push forward.
“You’re huge,” she said, as she stroked him harder, clenching her fist around the long, thick length of him. “Are all werewolves—”
“No, baby,” he interrupted, sweeping his fingers through her center. “Just me.” He licked her succulent juices off his fingers and groaned. He pushed forward, until the head of his erection poised at her drenched core. “You’re so wet. So perfect.”
“Do you have protection?” she asked quietly, her chest heaving with labored breaths.
“No.” Why would he carry around a condom? Diseases didn’t pass from werewolves to humans, and she’d have to be a werewolf in heat to get pregnant. But he couldn’t get into any of that. Not yet. “Do you?”
She nodded and pointed to the foot of the bed where her purse had been laid. “In the inside zipper pocket.”
Drake fished through her purse and found the condom. “So tell me, sweet, innocent Emelia,” he teased, tearing through the foil wrapper. “Were you planning to seduce me after the gala?”
With heavy-lidded eyes, Emelia watched as Drake put on the condom and approached her squirming legs. “I didn’t think it’d hurt to be prepared.”
“What a good girl you are.”
As Drake wedged himself between Emelia’s legs, his veins flooded with heat. She scooted closer to the edge of the couch and lay back, propping her head on the pillows behind her.
“Good?” she said, letting out a shallow hiss of air as the thick head of his erection brushed over her slit. “Don’t you want me to be naughty?”
Holding on to a weakening thread of control, Drake maneuvered slowly, inching himself inside her. When he finally sheathed himself to the hilt, he groaned, clenching his teeth until he thought they would shatter. He had to go gently if he didn’t want to hurt her, but it went against every pounding desire he had. Emelia groaned with him, moving her hips in a rhythm that stroked him from the inside out. She was so tight. A perfect fit.
“I want you,” he mumbled, his jaw going rigid. “I want you in every way.”
As she began to writhe in her own rising pleasure, Drake reached out, splayed his hands over her stomach and massaged her breasts. He continued his path up her body, stroking his hands up her silky-smooth chest and looping them behind her neck. Gently, he grasped the back of her neck and tilted her head so that she could look in his eyes when he came. God, how he wished he could capture this moment. She was breathtaking. Glorious. Heart-stopping.
“Emie. My Emie.” His voice strained hoarse. He was surprised he could speak at all. “Come for me again.”
“Now?” she asked, pushing against the pillows, bucking against him. “You want it now?”
He was drawn so tight, his body clenched with raging need.
“I’m begging.” Drake could feel her inner muscles begin to clench. He hardened into a giant knot, on the verge of climax. What scared him was the reaction that shot through him: the desperate urge to bond with her.
Drake clamped down the primal need, determined to give Emelia the choice first. Being with him physically, matching him like no other could, didn’t mean she wanted to enter into the human equivalent of marriage with him.
“Come back,” she breathed, her mouth falling open as she gasped for air.
Drake thrust into her harder. With all the force he had. “I didn’t go anywhere. Come for me, baby.”
With a resounding push, Emelia crumbled, her inner muscles flexing and releasing, pulsing as the orgasm milked its way through her. Drake continued to thrust, so achingly close to reaching his own jagged peak of release. The world shook before his eyes. Emelia sat up and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth in time with his thrusts.
The pressure building inside Drake became too hot, too great. He exploded, releasing his seed in deliciously sharp spasms that had him crying out her name.
Emelia was his woman. Bonded or not.
Chapter Thirteen
“You didn’t have to do this all for me,” Emelia said, staring at Drake from her stool across the granite island. “I could’ve eaten the pizza. It would’ve been fine.”
They’d made