Joy to the Wolves (Red Wolf #1) - Terry Spear Page 0,125

black lace bra down, exposing her breasts to the inside of her sweater, the fabric soft and caressing, his touch on her breasts tantalizing.

She breathed in the heavenly scent of him, all man and wolf, raw and primal, and she was ready to give in to the lust consuming her. She ached for him in all the sensitive, feminine places.

He tasted sweet and creamy from the brandy eggnog they’d had, almost floral, lively, delicious.

“Hmm, you taste so good,” he murmured against her mouth.

“So do you.” And then she tasted him again, rubbing her body against his, ready to strip and do this, finish off the night with a hot-blooded climax, climb into bed, snuggle with her loving mate, and listen for Santa and his reindeer high above the rooftops.

He moved his hands to her jeans skirt and unfastened it, pulling it down her hips and letting it slide the rest of the way to puddle at her feet. “Have I ever told you I love your lace undergarments?” He ran his hands over her breasts, his palms doing a teasing number on her sensitive nipples.

“Hmm, no, but I suspected so.” She ran her hand over his arousal pressing against the zipper of his jeans, and he groaned. “Did I ever tell you I love the way you fill out your boxer briefs?”

He chuckled. She smiled, then unfastened his jeans and pulled them down over his lean hips.

Before they tackled their boots, he slid her sweater over her head, her breasts exposed, her bra still fastened. He leaned down and kissed a breast, his hands cupping both of them under her bra, and she was in heaven.

“Beautiful,” he said.

“Hmm, so are you.” She pulled his sweater over his head, dropped it next to hers on the floor near the blanket, and ran her hands up his abs, loving the feel of his hard chest and soft skin against the palms of her hands.

He sat down on the chair, intending to remove his boots, but she did it for him while he combed his fingers through her hair. It felt good, and she wanted him to keep it up, but she wanted them naked even more. She slid his pants off the rest of the way.

Then he pulled her onto his lap and removed her boots and unfastened her bra. His hands on her breasts, he kissed her neck and shoulder, sliding one of his hands down her panties. He found her clit and began to stroke. She leaned back against him and spread her legs. He kept up the strokes, kissing her neck, her ear, his free hand caressing her breast. She felt exposed and sexy and loved.

“Oh, Josh,” she moaned as her blood heated and she craved completion. A euphoric jolt coursed through her, and she moaned with ecstasy, the climax hitting her with a rush of exquisite contractions.

Her breathing ragged, she arched her back against him. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her ear. His erection nudged at her buttocks, provocative and clearly ready for more action. She was on top of the world and then falling in a cloak of warmth and serenity.

* * *

Josh moved her off his lap and rose to his feet, pulling off her wet black lace panties as she pulled off his boxer briefs. And then they were on the blanket by the fire. She spread her legs for him. He centered himself between her legs, his cock throbbing with need. He kissed her with deliberate, measured kisses, wanting the moment to last, their first Christmas together.

Her teeth grazed his lips, and he licked hers back, tasting, teasing, and then devouring them. Desire welled up in him, the need to claim her as strong as it was the first time they’d mated, as if the wolf connection they made would never get old. Hungry for her, he pushed into her, joining her, mate to mate.

His breathing husky, he began to thrust. He lifted her buttocks so she was pressed against him, and he drove in deeper. She incited him to take his fill and to pleasure her just as much. She was soft, willing; he was hard, eager.

Their pheromones were at an all-time high, and he felt the ending coming. He tried to stop it, tried to control it, but there was no stopping the intensity of the orgasm that hit, filling her. He continued to thrust, and her body milked him dry. For a moment, he rested on her, not believing their