Twisted

He rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh, his whiskers scraping. “Always.” Turning his head, he sank his canines into her leg, his palm cupping her sex.

The orgasm surged inside her so quickly, so powerfully, tears swept into her eyes. She blinked, her body moving, explosions rippling through her. “God.”

His fangs retracted, and his lips wandered over her mound. He chuckled and licked her, swirling his tongue around her clit.

“No—” She grabbed his head. It was too much.

One broad hand encircled her wrists and pinned her hands against her stomach. He sucked her clit into his heated mouth.

Way too much. She kicked out, her mind spinning.

He tightened his grip.

A warning.

She stilled. Mini-explosions fired out from her sex. “I can’t—”

“You will,” he rumbled against her, the sensations so erotic, her eyes rolled back. Her head dropped to the desk.

Her muscles relaxed.

“Good girl,” he murmured. His tongue pressed her clit.

“No—”

“Yes.” Pleasure rode his words, while demand filled his tone. The Alpha in full force . . . and he wasn’t letting her go. He’d play until he was satisfied.

The truth of the thought surged desire through her veins so quickly her breath heated. Hot and desperate. His hold immobilized her on the desk, his shoulders kept her thighs wide. Vulnerable. One finger slowly entered her.

Her shoulders tightened. “I had an argument once with a friend about the existence of the G-spot,” she breathed out.

“You mean . . . this?” He wiggled his finger.

Electricity bolted to her nipples, her entire body a string he’d plucked. She bit her lip, but a small moan escaped.

“Yeah. That.”

“Hmmmm,” he said thoughtfully, his mouth on her, his finger inside her, his broad shoulders branding her skin.

“Maybe it’s time we talked about our agreed mating.” His canines scraped along the side of very delicate tissue.

“Goblegack,” she said. Her mind blanked, her body short-circuited.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He slowly licked her slit.

Did wolves have rougher tongues than people? Not that she remembered doing this before. But still. “No . . . mating.”

Another finger entered her. He went to work with pur-pose, with some serious damn talent. Vibrations shook her legs. Her stomach muscles contracted. White sparks flashed behind her eyes.

Could a shifter go crazy from too much pleasure?

Who the hell cared?

She twisted against the cool surface, nerves firing. A ball of lightning uncoiled into tendrils of flame deep inside her.

She gasped, holding her breath, trying to jump into the fire.

If he’d just give a little more pressure—

He sucked her entire clit into his mouth.

She cried out, arching her back until only her shoulders remained on the desk. The orgasm crested through her on shards of raw need, finally breaking over into waves of intense pleasure. She rode them out, panting, her mind blank-ing. The intensity sheeted the entire room white and silent.

Awareness returned as she relaxed into mush. He stood, fully dressed, male satisfaction crossing his face. His gaze dark and intent, he tugged his T-shirt over his head. Hard, sculpted, natural muscle shifted as his hands went to his jeans. He was too male, too beautiful to be real. She sighed.

“I really love your chest.”

His upper lip quirked as he kicked his jeans away.

“Ditto.”

“Whoa.” Her eyebrows lifted. He was erect and so freakin’

huge. Tingles cascaded inside her abdomen.

The dark determination in his gaze shot awareness up her spine. An odd craving throbbed between her legs. Again.

How was this possible?

Naked, real, Terrent Vilks was all strength, all predator.

And right now, his absolute focus pinned her in place.

Her heart fluttered in female awareness. An instinct as old as time. One that had her stilling, watching him, part of her wanting to run . . . the other part needing him to make good the demand in his dark eyes. To take her as he wanted.

He grasped her biceps and tugged her into a seated position. Warm palms swept the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms.

Her breath caught in her lungs. Desire spun inside her stomach with harsh wings.

Erotic sparks danced on her skull as he threaded his fingers in her hair, tilting her head. Between his hands, he cradled her face and brought his mouth down on hers. Her heart jumped into action as he held her in place, hunger swirling through her. The kiss was firm, demanding, possessive. A statement. A claim.

A sharp nip to her lip made her open her mouth, the small bite a declaration that there would be no barriers between them. No protection—no hiding. Plunging in, his tongue stroked her, heat rolling off his strong body to warm her front.

Her nails sank into his powerful biceps, while flames licked her into a craving so intense it’d be frightening if she had time to think.

He released her, pleasure curving his smile.

She swallowed and searched for reality. “Um, bedroom?”

Heat flared in his eyes. “No.” Sliding her off the desk, he turned her around to face the far wall. His erection brushed her bare buttocks.

She stopped breathing. Again. “Um—”

Flattening against her upper back, his rough palm gently pushed her down. She turned her head, resting her cheek against the chilled walnut. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she swallowed a moan. His foot nudged her thighs farther apart.

Oh God.

His hands grasped her hips, tilting them.

On all that is holy.

He plunged inside her with one strong stroke. The heavy desk moved a foot. Fire lanced along every nerve in her lower body. Her nipples hardened to steel against the desk.

Her head shot up, her chin on the surface. The wall danced and morphed in her vision, so she closed her eyes.

Tightening his hold, he withdrew, slowly pushing back inside her. Large, he caressed needy nerves she hadn’t realized she had. He tilted her hips to a higher angle. She turned her head and buried her face in her arms. Too much feeling . . .

too much pleasure. God, she craved him.

He slid out and then back in. His palms branded her skin.

Their breathing filled the heavy silence.