Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance (4 page)

“Stop…please.
Stop.” Her voice was rough-edged, breathless. “Stop…”

He
raised his head, the movement of his hand slowing against her, but not leaving.
He set his palm flat against her. “Another one.”

“Yes.
Another one.” She wasn’t sure if that was one. It was different, very
different, then the first. She hesitated. “I think it was, yes?”

His
laugh was soft. “Yes. It was. Are you surprised?”

“I…I
don’t know. It was…not the same as the first. The first was…quick…light? The
second was…”

“There
is no need to put them to words. They are never the same, ever. Not for me, or
for you, or for anyone. If they were, things might become boring.”

“This
could never become boring. Never.”

But
it struck her that they were never going to have time to become bored with each
other. They had only one night.

“Then
I need to have as many different…experiences…as many as I can.”

He
smiled. He knew as well as she, that their time together was brief. “Then I
will do my best to give you as many different experiences in this night as
possible.”

Slowly,
his hand slid round to her hip, reaching down, cupping her ass. He smiled, his
fingers tensing against her skin.

“You
have the body of a temptress, Senna. Curves and flesh where it belongs, covered
with the softest skin. You are a shifter’s dream…a man’s dream…a woman, beyond
what a man like me, deserves.”

She
let him pull her against him, against the hardness barely concealed by his
tunic and pants. There was no body armor between them, just a thin piece of
material of his uniform.

With
a trembling hand she reached out, cupping the hardness of him. He breathed out
a low moan, pressing himself against her, slowly, hips moving as her had. After
a moment he reached down, undoing the fastenings at the front of his uniform.
Gently he took her hand, guiding it through the opening.

“Touch
me, Senna. I want to feel your skin on mine, your hand touching me.”

He
was hard, hot, but somehow silky smooth at the same time. She wrapped her
fingers around him, marveling at the thickness, the length. Before, that first
time, it had been dark, and things had moved so quickly. She hadn’t even had
time to wonder. Or explore.

But
now she had hours to explore, to touch, to look…

“How
do I touch you? What gives you pleasure?”

In
the candlelight she saw him smile. He reached down again, molding his hand to
hers. Slowly he moved her hand with his, sliding himself through her curled
fingers, against her palm. It was a strange feeling, movement over something
solid, something hard.

“Like
this…”

She
looked up at him, at the way his eyes were half closed, his lips parted, the
way his hair fell back from his shoulders. He took his hand away, and she
continued stroking him. After a moment, he began breathing faster, his hips
jerking forward. Another moment more, and he put his hand over hers, stilling
her touch.

“Did
I do something wrong?” She smiled at him, mischievously.

He
looked down at her with those dark eyes. “No. You did something very well.
Almost
too
well.” He chuckled, his eyes blazing with desire.

“I
like making you feel as good as you make me feel.” She took her hand away, her
lips curving back into that teasing smile.

“You
drive me wild, Senna.” His mouth came down on hers, cutting off her words, her
questions. She gave in to the kiss, to the pressure of his lips on hers, his
tongue flicking over her lips, probing further. It was so easy to let him in,
to meet his tongue with hers.

His
hands went to her shoulders, and the robe fell to the floor. Eagerly she reached
for him, tugging his pants down, then running her hands beneath his tunic, over
the taut muscles of his stomach, up to his chest. There was a brief moment of
not wanting to break the kiss to get him out of his tunic, but wanting him out
of it so badly. She broke away, hands tugging and pulling at the cloth.

Then
he was naked, pressed against her, her breasts pressed against his chest, the
hard part of him rubbing against the tender skin of her stomach. It was heaven,
bliss. She gasped, pulled away.

“Can
we just stay here, like this, forever?”

“I
hope not.”

“What?
Do you not like this…being here like this with me?”

“I
do. Very much.” He kissed her forehead. “But I would rather spend my life with
you here…”

She
gasped as he scooped her up, crossing the few feet to the bed. Not entirely
gently he put her on the soft white sheets. She sat up, feet swinging off the
edge of the bed, watching him, drinking him in with her eyes.

“I
want you here, Senna. Next to me, beneath me, on top of me.”

He
stood close, the candle by the bed casting flickering shadows over him. It was
impossible to look only at his face. Somehow it seemed impolite to look
anywhere else, but she couldn’t help herself. She let her eyes drift down his
body, but then jerked her head up, embarrassed, confused.

“You
can look. I want you to look.” He took a step closer, reaching down to push
apart her knees. He was there, close, closer than she could have ever imagined
she’d be to a man.

“I
want you to touch me…”

She
looked up at him, reached for him, took him in her hand. “Anything you desire.
Anything…”

He
slid his hand along the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. He held her close
to his hardness, brushing the tip against her soft lips. And she knew then what
she could do, how to give him pleasure.

It
was easy to open her mouth, slide him between her lips, to flick her tongue
around the head of him. He moaned, fingers tightening in her hair. She pulled
him deeper into her mouth, sucking him as he’d done to her. He moaned again,
deeper, his hips pushing forward, pushing him further into her mouth.

She
let her hands roam over his hips, down his thighs, reaching between his legs.
She cupped his balls, and he gasped, hips jerking hard.

“No…not
that. Not yet…”

Slowly
he slid himself out of her mouth, and she wrapped her fingers around him,
around the slick shaft of him. He jerked again, laughed, and then reached down,
covering her hand with his.

“You
are too tempting to resist, Senna.” He took her hand away from him. Before she
could react, he reached down, grabbing her by the hips, pushing her across the
bed. Then he was between her legs, his chest pressed against hers, cradling her
face in his hands. “You are too tempting by far.”

He
kissed her, his mouth on hers as he slid himself into her. She arched up, every
sense coming alive. Kissing him was heaven, but she couldn’t keep focus. She
wanted to move, twist her head, moan, cry out. And she wanted to pull him
closer. Rolling her hips, she wrapped her legs around his waist, the feeling of
hips and back moving under her legs sending a rush of feminine power through
her.

Gabriel
thrust into her, touching parts of her she remembered from last time, but now
she was aware, knew what to expect, and it sent a ripple of heat through her
body, leaving her nipples hard. She wanted to pay attention, to enjoy every
last moment. She might never have the chance again, to feel this way – to be
this way – with Gabriel.

Feelings
inside her were quickly spiraling out of control, no matter how much she longed
to imprint this experience into her mind. Things were moving too fast; Gabriel
was taking her too high too quickly. There was nothing she could do but hold
on.

Digging
her nails into his back, she arched up beneath him, as the first powerful wave
of orgasm washed through her. The same thing must have been happening to Gabriel.
His movements were changing, growing in intensity, becoming erratic.

Arms
flying wide she arched up, head back, eyes closed. She wanted to talk, to tell
him how she felt, what he was doing to her. But speech was impossible. The only
sounds she could make were inarticulate noises, cries, whispered words.

Gabriel
was breathing hard, his body covered with a sheen of perspiration. Whatever he
was experiencing, it matched her own, his grunts and her cries reaching a
crescendo. Then he thrust hard, stayed buried in her, quivering and throbbing.
There was a flood of wet heat. And then she joined him.

Everything
spun out in crazy slowness, each pulse of her heart loud in her eyes, the sound
of Gabriel’s breathing magnified in her ears. Her body took on a life of its
own, but she wouldn’t have wanted control. The release was intense, beyond
words. Beyond anything she’d ever felt, even before with Gabriel.

Then
he was rolling away from her, breathing hard. One hand stayed on her arm.

“Are
you alright, Senna?”

But
she didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Tremors and aftershocks were still
traveling through her, her mind swirling, barely hearing much less
understanding what he was asking. A minute later he was leaning over her,
looking down into her eyes.

“Senna?”

“Yes…”

“Are
you alright?” There was concern in his voice, but also amusement.

“Very
much alright.”

He
grinned, then lay back beside her. “Glad to hear it.”

She
closed her eyes, drifting on a cloud of contentment. She could smell Gabriel,
the masculine scent of his body. It was heady and she took a deep breath,
wanting to remember this, each detail, now that she was back on this earth.

“Senna.
Wake up.”

Gabriel
was shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes, smiling up at him. “I am.”

“No.
You were asleep. You snore.”

She
sat up. “I do not. Princesses do not snore.”

“Contented
women snore.”

She
chose to ignore that, and how he would know anything about
other
women
who snore.

“You
should eat.” Gabriel sat up, plumping the pillows for her. “You haven’t eaten
anything.”

“How
does everyone know what I do or don’t do?” She pushed herself against the
pillows, tugging the sheet over her legs.

“There
is untouched food by your bed, for one thing.” He set the tray on the sheets
between them, a grin painted on his handsome face. “And, I can hear your
stomach rumbling.”

“Oh.”
She picked up a fig and piece of cheese, watching while he poured wine in the
single glass. He handed it to her and she took a sip. It seemed utterly
decadent, eating in bed with a gorgeous man who warmed her even more than the
wine did. If she had her way, she would do this, every single night.

“This
is good. Here…” She handed the glass to him and he took a swallow. The fig was
perfectly ripe and she let herself enjoy the contradictory feelings of lush
flesh and crunchy seeds as she chewed. The cheese was salty, a perfect
compliment. Gabriel ate a grape, then held one out to her. She let him feed it
to her even though part of her felt so awkward at the gesture, but she
thoroughly enjoyed it, flicking her tongue over his fingers.
Yes, this was
decadent. And wonderful.

They
ate in silence, Gabriel sectioning the orange, offering her a slice, continuing
to feed her. She bit into it, juice running down her chin. She laughed as Gabriel
handed her a linen napkin and she wiped the juice away. The orange tasted of
sun and heat, sweet and tart at the same time.

“Damn,
you’re so beautiful”, he told her as she found herself suddenly shy, a sense of
belonging overpowering her, not that she belonged at the castle as that had
always been her home, but that she belonged with him…
to
him.

They
shared another glass of wine and she tried not to be a glutton and eat all the
figs, but there was no holding back, they were her absolute favorite. And, to
be truthful, she was hungry. Finally, the tray was picked over, full of orange
peels and cherry pits and the empty bottle. Gabriel set it on the floor and
then slid down in the bed, making a space for her next to him. She curled into
the crook of his arm, head resting on his shoulder.

“You
came to meet me.” She ran her fingers over his chest, all smooth skin and taut
muscle. “You knew I’d be there. And so you came...”

He
reached up, stopping her hand with his, holding it briefly to his lips.

“I
wish that were the only reason.” He held her hand for a minute, and then set
both back on his chest. “Your train was attacked.”

“Yes,
it was terrible. I’ve never seen aliens that close before.” A shudder tore
through her, and she sat up, looking down at him. The light from the
windows—the moon must have risen by now—caught the planes of his face, the high
cheekbones, square jaw. All the things she loved about his face. It was
irresistible, the urge to touch his face, trace the contours, slide her fingers
down the straight bridge of his nose. But he didn’t let go of her hand. He was
talking, but she’d lost track of what he’d said.