MATTHIAS fought to control the shaking of his body, the need to lick and taste her flesh as he stroked her. He could smell the sweet heat of her pu**y, drawing him, making his mouth water for the rich syrup he knew flowed from her.
His hands were filled with her swollen br**sts, her pebble-hard ni**les poking against his thumbs. But he had promised. He had promised not to let the aphrodisiac filling his mouth touch her. It was killing him. The glands were pumping the hormonal fluid into his mouth, filling his system, burning him alive with the need to f**k her. His c**k was so hard, throbbing so viciously he had to fight to hold back his growls.
He let his cheek touch her, his forehead, praying the sweat gathering on his skin didn't have the aphrodisiac effect. He moved along her neck, her shoulders, bending to her to allow his cheek to caress her upper chest, then the hard mound of a breast.
His hand slid to her waist as he panted, his lips a breath from her hard nipple, her little whimpers of pleasures causing him to clench his teeth to hold back.
"Matthias, you're killing us both like this." She trembled in his arms. "Don't do this."
"Are you asking me to stop, Grace?" Please, God, no! He couldn't bear it. He had to touch her, if he didn't touch her, he was going to die.
"Matthias," the soft protest dragged an unwilling growl from his lips.
"I dream of holding you." He rushed his cheek over her nipple and moved lower. He went slowly to his knees, his hands and face alone touching her, stroking skin so soft he knew it couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. God had been merciful. Somehow he had died, and God had given him an angel to love. It had to be. Because she was so warm and soft, all the things he had dreamed of with none of the scent of death surrounding her.
When he reached the elastic and lace band of her panties, he felt a hard spurt of pr**cum erupt from his cock. He jerked at the pleasure of the small ejaculation, his fingers tightening on the band, as he forced himself to go slowly.
"I can smell you," he sighed against her hip. "Like hot cream and sweet syrup. Have I mentioned, I have a weakness for cream and syrup?"
Her hands were on his shoulders, her fingers kneading them beneath the shirt he wore, as wicked little cries left her throat.
He pulled at the band of her panties, sliding them slowly from her hips, then along her rounded thighs. The little swell of her belly drew him. He wanted to lick it, longed to taste it, but contented himself with pressing his cheek against it instead.
"Matthias, I don't think I can stand this," she gasped.
"Sweet Heaven, just a few more minutes, Grace." His eyes had opened, and he was treated to the prettiest sight of his life.
Sweet honey gold curls beaded with her female cream. Luscious little drops of it clung to the soft curls that shielded her pu**y, glistening with arousal and heat.
"Oh God, Grace." His hand was shaking, as he touched a single droplet with one finger, easing it from the curl before rubbing it against his lips.
His eyes closed, his nostrils flared, and the growl that tore from his chest was animalistic, hungry, almost violent.
He licked the taste of her from his lip, drowning in the need for more and relishing even that smallest hint of passion.
"I've dreamed of going down on you." He clenched his teeth desperately, as he fought for control. Maintaining it was iffy. "Licking your flesh, seeing these pretty curls wet with your need for me. Breeds don't have body hair, you know?"
"I know." Her voice was thin, her breath panting as he parted her legs further.
"I've never taken a woman like this," he told her softly. "With just my hands, just this touch." His hand slid up her thighs, his fingers parting the curl-shrouded folds with a reverent touch. God help him. She was hot. So liquid hot his dick was burning for it. Another hard ejaculation of pr**cum jerked the engorged flesh, warning him, that for him, the mating heat was progressing too
quickly. That wasn't just pr**cum. It was a slick hormone-filled lubrication that eased the tender flesh of the vagina, preparing it for his penetration.
Wolf Breeds were thickly endowed. Most women, even female Wolf Breeds struggled to accept the girth. But during mating heat, a Wolf Breed's hormonal responses prepared the female. The pre-seminal fluid aided that, but only during the mating heat. It helped relax the tender muscles, built the arousal, ensured that the sexual act progressed without undue pain, and prepared the feminine sheath for what would come later.
Mother nature was a bitch. Breed mating was wickedly sexual and sometimes, for the females, it could be terrifying.
"Matthias, you're making me weak," Grace moaned, dragging him back from the sight of his index finger piercing the swollen lips and gathering her moisture to it.
He had to taste her again. He couldn't put his lips to her, but maybe, like this. He looked up at her, brought the sweet juice to his lower lip and smeared it there. When his finger had eased back, he licked.
He moaned at that rich taste. She cried out, her nails piercing his shoulder, as her hips jerked forward, almost slamming her pu**y into his lips.
"Stop. Grace. Easy, sweetheart."
"Damn you!" She cried out. "This is killing me." It was the expression on his face that was killing her. Absorbed, intent, so filled with pleasure it humbled her. His face was flushed, his eyes glittering with rich, golden browns, almost a fire inside the dark orbs. He was staring at her pu**y as though it contained all the secrets of his pleasure. His fingers slid through the sick folds again, parting them, easing inside her.
Easing inside her, when she needed more. Her hips jerked, her pu**y convulsing around the single finger as it rubbed against the sensitive tissue.