and she sprawled beneath him, hungry now, ravenous to have him in her, on her, under her. She wanted to feel every inch of his hard body. She scraped her hands up and down his back, along his butt, dragging her short nails across his skin. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, nibbling, kissing, tasting.
She arched again, parting her thighs, demanding that he take notice, that he give her what she craved.
He did. He shifted one hand to her center and thumbed her core until she was writhing and twisting beneath him. Tension radiated from her into him. She felt his sex pressing against her hip and she wanted it inside her. Wanted him locked deeply within her.
When he raised his head, she looked into his eyes and in those pale gray depths, she read more hunger than she’d ever seen before. She thought she might burn up from the heat of his gaze and knew she wouldn’t care. As long as she could feel him sliding deep within her, she wouldn’t care about anything else.
It was a fever now, a soul-deep ache that demanded to be fed.
“Now, Torin,” she ordered, turning into him, trying to straddle him so that she could feel his hard thickness inside. “Take me now, damn it.”
“Now,” he agreed and shifted, rolling her onto her back again, moving to kneel between her parted thighs. Then he paused and looked his fill of her. His hands touched her, parted her tender flesh and stroked her until she grabbed fistsful of the quilt beneath her and hung on for dear life.
“Is torture a part of mating, you bastard?” she demanded, lifting her hips into his touch, nearly whimpering for what he was denying her.
“It’s the hunger,” he told her in a voice choked out of his throat. “The craving claws at you. At me. Once begun, the mating will only become more powerful. More all-consuming. We will need. Always.”
“Then take me,” she told him, rearing up off the mattress to link her arms around his neck and pull his mouth to hers for a brief, hard kiss. “Take me now and then again. But be inside me, Torin.”
“Always,” he promised and keeping his gaze locked with hers, entered her body in one long, swift stroke.
She screamed his name as his body claimed hers. She clung to his shoulders, his back, as he pulled her up to sit on his lap. She twisted, grinding her hips against him, taking him deeper, higher. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and felt flames quicken there as well.
That knot of heat inside her chest flared brightly for an instant and burned behind her left breast as she rode him. She didn’t care about the brief jolt of pain. It was gone in an instant and all there was, was him.
Their gazes locked, Shea moved on him. His hands at her waist set the rhythm for her to follow. It was fast, it was hard and it was everything.
The first stirrings of her climax tingled into life and were enveloped in a firestorm of sensation. She let her head fall back on her neck as she held on to him and continued to move, rocking, writhing, twisting, taking him as high and as deep as possible. His thickness filled her, and still it wasn’t enough. She would never have enough of him. Heart. Soul. Mind. She felt the connection between them flash into life and she knew that nothing she ever did would be as important as this moment.
“Shatter for me,” he commanded.
She did, instantly. Her body rocked and she called his name as wave after wave carried her over and above anything she had ever known before.
And almost before the last ripple sighed through her system, Torin moved her, shifting her in his arms, setting her on the bed. Facedown, she braced her hands on the mattress, and knowing what he wanted, went up on her knees, lifting her hips to him.
His big hands held her in place as he stroked his thick body back and forth across her so-sensitive entrance. Shea couldn’t believe it herself, but she needed him again. Now. The climax she’d experienced was barely complete and a fresh hunger was erupting within her.
She moved, pushing at him, twisting her hips despite his firm grasp on her body and when she looked back over her shoulder at him, her heart nearly stopped. In the dancing firelight, he was every inch an ancient warrior.