“Del-Rey!” She screamed his name as she arched to him, feeling his tongue thrusting hard and deep inside her.
Wicked, slashing forks of pleasure raced through her sex, to her clit. She writhed beneath him, feeling him taste her, lick her. His tongue was ravenous, his moans fueling her desire as she felt his fingers moving lower.
He parted the cheeks of her bottom, tempted her there. He caressed and massaged the puckered little opening of her rear.
Oh, she liked that. She arched at the spike of pleasure, the tingle of incredible heat as he smoothed her juices back and the tip of his finger pierced her slowly.
She lifted, moaned for more.
“Ah hell, you’re going to give me a stroke,” he groaned against the wet folds he was devouring.
“Breeds don’t have strokes,” she panted. “Good hearts. Remember?”
“I’ll be the first,” he breathed out roughly. “Ah f**k.”
She cried out as his finger slid inside her.
“Ah hell. Baby. Anya. This is for the heat cycle.”
“No. For now.” She twisted against him as his tongue circled her clit. “Oh yeah, that’s so good.”
A second finger pierced her and she wondered if she could pass out from the pleasure. She felt herself stretching, relaxing. Eager. Oh, she was so eager for this.
“I should spank you for this,” he growled.
“Yeah, spank me.” Her hands gripped his hair as she rode his lips. “Do it. I dare you.”
Don’t dare a Coyote. It should be on a plaque on every wall in Base. “Never Dare A Coyote.”
His free hand landed on her raised rear.
Anya froze, felt the tingling burn and gave a low, drawn-out moan.
“Dare ya to do it again,” she panted.
Before he could do more than gasp, she found herself rolled to her stomach. Hips lifted. His hand landed on her rear and she felt something better than mating heat.
Oh damn, this was wicked, and she loved it.
One hand moved between her thigh, palmed the wet flesh, his fingers stroking her clit as he held her in place and delivered another little slap to her rear. It wasn’t painful; it was hot. It was sexy and wicked, and she wanted more.
She rolled her hips, cried out his name and lost count of the heavy caresses. She didn’t lose count of the burn though. It was racing through her bloodstream, sensitizing every nerve ending in her body. Oh yes. She loved this. She was dying for him. She wanted more and more and she wanted to sink beneath the onslaught of pleasure/pain she could feel was coming.
“I can’t wait.” His fingers slid back to her rear.
One finger eased in, then out. Two pressed inside her, stretching her. He gathered her juices, drew them back, teased her with the little strokes that weren’t really strokes. Just stretching, just easing her.
“Don’t wait,” she cried out. “Oh God, Del-Rey, please.”
How long was she supposed to bear this torment? She needed. She had needed for four weeks.
“I’m ready dammit. Oh God, do something.”
She was dying for him. Her thighs were slick with her wet need. She was hot, so slick that when he gathered more and eased it back, he was able to press three fingers inside her as she screamed out his name.
“Oh yes,” she cried out. “I’m so close. So close.”
His fingers eased back. A second later she felt the blunt, wide tip of his c**k press against her in the same spot.