His words had my pulse racing. God, I wanted that. All of that. Now. "I'm a wolf," I said, my voice becoming more than a little breathless as those shudders of pleasure got ever stronger. "I'm always going to wake way before either of those moments."
"As I've sadly discovered. It does not, however, alter my plan."
And of that, I was glad. "Trouble is, all I'm feeling is finger fucking. When does the real action start?"
"Wolves," he said with a chuckle. "Always impatient."
And with that, he pulled my hips upward into doggie position and slowly thrust into me. I moaned as my body clenched around him, wanting his heat deeper, wanting him to go faster. He did neither, keeping the rhythm of his movements slow and steady, even though I could feel the tremble of desire that rode him where our flesh connected.
Then, with a suddenness that made me growl in frustration, that connection was gone. He chuckled again. "Patience, little wolf, patience."
He shifted his position, then flipped me over onto my back. Before I could even squawk a protest, his body was pressed against my length and his lips were claiming mine. And this was no ordinary kiss—the kiss of an Aedh is like no other. It's designed to enthrall, to not only captivate but sweep aside all objections and allow the Aedh to bed and impregnate the woman of his choice. Aedh usually did this only when they were nearing the end of their life span, and with human females only when they could find no female Aedh to mate with. Their lovemaking never actually lived up to the power and magic of their kiss, but it was still pretty damn fine.
Of course, Lucian was no ordinary Aedh. Not only had his wings been ripped off as punishment for murder—he'd taken revenge against the man who'd killed his half sister—but he'd been confined to human form for many, many centuries. In that time, he'd come to appreciate some of the finer aspects of holding human form, and making love was definitely one of them. To say he had an insatiable need to indulge in the pastime without impregnating his partner was something of an understatement.
Just as saying he was kissing me senseless was something of an understatement. He kissed me until my head spun and desire became a burn that would surely consume me if it wasn't quenched. Then he released me and moved down my neck, the butterfly kisses he trailed along my skin making me tremble and groan. He kissed both breasts, then closed his mouth over one, alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue around the edge of the areola as he pinched and squeezed the other. My fingers clenched the bedsheets, and it was all I could do not to scream against the force of the sensations crashing through me.
As the shudders of pleasure assaulting my body threatened to become a quake, he continued his journey downward, kissing my stomach and belly button.
Then he reached my lower lips and began to slowly trace the edges, tantalizing me with possibilities. My breath hitched as his tongue passed briefly over my clit, but he moved on quickly. Too quickly. I moaned, and he laughed softly, his breath a teasing coolness that felt almost as good as his tongue's caress.
He explored further, each thrust of his tongue delving deeper. It was an intimate yet gentle assault that left me delirious with pleasure, and I was torn between wanting it to go on and on yet not sure I could actually stand such torture for too much longer.
Then his tongue swirled around my clit again. I screamed as my body bucked and my orgasm crashed through me with a suddenness and intensity that left me trembling but still wanting more. Of him. All of him.
I grabbed his arms and swiftly switched our positions, straddling him quickly and thrusting him deep inside.
His hands moved to either side of my hips, holding me steady and still. "Wolves," he said, the disappointment in his expression somewhat destroyed by the mirth so evident in his powerful, jade green eyes. "No stamina whatsoever."