Dark Lycan (Carpathian)

He would always associate Tatijana with fresh rain, with the feel of cool water against hot skin. There was a sensual feeling he couldn’t deny with the mist falling softly over him. He’d never connected rain or fog to sensuality, but would forever more.

Tatijana sent a wall of water shooting at him. He ducked under it using the speed of his mixed blood and did a shallow dive into the water. The heat after the cool rain was shocking. He gave chase, catching her just near the far side, nearest the mountain where icy cold drops from the waterfall splashed over them to hiss in the heat of the pool.

Standing, he pulled her to him, catching her legs to wrap them around his body. The vee between her legs nestled over his already thickening cock. Her skin was cool, just as he suspected, but that sweet invitation was hotter than ever. She linked her fingers behind his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

“Thank you. I love this place, Fen. My beautiful wolf man. First you write me a song, and then you give me this wonderful night.” She threw her head back, allowing the mist to fall into her face. “I think it’s going to rain. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

He laughed, enjoying how happy she was. “Only you would say that, my lady. Most women would prefer to be indoors when it rains.”

“They don’t know how good it feels on their skin.” She leaned down to lick droplets off his neck. “Or how good rain tastes on skin.”

“Lean back. I’ll hold you,” he promised. “Just enough that I can get a taste of you.”

When she complied, stretching her arms to full length, the movement pushed her body into his. She moved, a subtle circle, rubbing against him, so that his cock jerked with demand. Her breasts swayed invitingly and the silk of her hair fell in waves like a bright cape. Behind her, the waterfall spilled continuously down the mountainside, long crystal streaks of water racing toward the pools below. Wind moved through the trees, so that the tops swayed as if to music. Steam rose around them, creating even more of an intimacy.

“There is music to the rain,” Tatijana confided. “Haven’t you ever heard it?”

“No,” he admitted, nuzzling her breast. “When it rains, I’ll listen,” he promised.

The temptation of her taut nipple was too much for him. She was a redhead and her nipples were more of a pink than dark—and very sensitive. Each time he stroked his tongue over and around her breast, he felt her body’s reaction. He used his teeth, tiny little nips, before he drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth and suckled strongly.

The mist turned to a light rain, the drops feeling cool against his body heat. Cool, like Tatijana. His mouth was burning hot. His skin. His cock. His blood, surging, rushing, inflamed in the midst of such temptation. He couldn’t leave her other breast unattended and took his time paying tribute to her soft flesh until she was crying out his name, cradling his head and arching into him.

Her body squirmed against his, each delicious movement sliding over his shaft, rubbing and teasing, inflaming him more. He still had trouble believing that such a beautiful woman had chosen him, and each time he reached for her, gave herself again and again so generously. He touched her mind often, and she always was as eager to explore his body as he was to explore hers.

He kissed his way up her breast, over the creamy slope, his teeth nipping along the way, just to feel the hot liquid response of her body against his shaft. Using his tongue, he eased each sting and then found her pounding pulse. The frantic rhythm beckoned and called seductively to him. He felt the pull of her blood as deeply as he felt the need of her body. The taste of her burst through his mouth even before he actually sank his teeth deep.

Tatijana cried out, sweet music to his ears, as he drank from her, taking the essence of her into his own body. The rain fell over the both of them—small, gentle droplets cooling the heat of his skin, making his core burn hotter than ever. She cradled his head to her, holding him close, her body writhing against his. Twice she lifted her hips, trying to impale herself on him, but he held her firmly in place, drawing out the need, building it in her.

“Fen. What are you doing?”

She gasped his name. Chanted it again and again. Adding to the music. He was beginning to hear the rain’s song through the pounding of his own blood. Small little drops plopping in the water. The random hiss of droplets from the waterfall accompanying the steadier fall of the rain. Her ragged breathing. His pulse thundering in his ears like a drum.

He took his time, savoring the taste of her and the response of her body, before he finally closed the wound over her breast.