Desire Unchained

Unsettled, she trailed her finger down his arm, followed the hills and valleys of his ropey muscles until she reached his hand. The dermoire went all the way to his long fingers, the ones that had stroked her, penetrated her, brought her to decadent orgasms more times than she could count.

Heat began to simmer in her veins at the thought. Geez, she was a hormonal mess. The werewolf thing had ramped up her libido, and the full moon made it worse … but being near Shade was like throwing gas on a fire.

A few minutes under cool water sounded good right about now.

She rolled to the side of the bed, kicked her feet over the edge—and in an instant found herself tugged back onto the mattress and tucked beneath Shade.

“Not so fast.” His voice was sleepy and wonderfully rough, and his half-opened, slumberous eyes burned gold. His erection lay heavily in the juncture of her sex.

“I was just going to take a shower. Would you like to join me?”

“After.” He nuzzled her throat, nipped the sensitive skin there. “After I’m finished with you.”

“Did you feel my, ah, arousal?”

His fingers delved between her legs to test her slick need. “Yep, I can feel it.”

“You know what I mean.”

He laved the area he’d bitten with his tongue. “It woke me up. Why?”

“Because,” she moaned, tilting her head to the side to give him better access, “earlier you said you felt my desire from New York. I was just wondering if you will always feel it.”

He lifted his head to look at her. No longer sleepy, his eyes burned with intensity. “We’re bonded. I’m aware of everything you feel.” He arched and slid inside her. “When you want sex, I’m compelled to give it to you.”

“Even if we’re in different states? Different countries?”

“Yes, but that won’t happen again.” He pinned her wrists above her head and began a slow, steady rhythm. “No mate of mine—” He broke off with a curse.

“You don’t like that word, do you?” Just once, she wanted to be able to run her hands over his shoulders as they bunched with each of his powerful strokes, to dig her fingers into his back as she came, but his grip on her wrists tightened.

“What word?”

“Mate.”

He shook his head, his thick hair falling around his face. “I don’t like any of this.”

She arched her back to take him deeper. “Not even this?”

An emotion she couldn’t name darkened his expression. “You’re aroused. The bond compels me to service you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He thrust faster, his movements almost mechanical. “Let’s get it over with.”

“If you think you’re doing me a favor by screwing me,” she snapped, “you can stop right now and go screw yourself.”

He stopped, but he didn’t withdraw from her body. “You would never have said that to me a year ago.” His voice was a low, rough rumble. “No female I’ve ever brought to my bed would dare speak like that to me.”

Glaring at him, she struggled to free her hands. “Probably because they’re hanging in chains from your ceiling.”

“Good point.” He glanced at the implements of torture and pleasure hanging from his walls as though selecting one for her. The thought made her shiver, but whether with fear or excitement, she wasn’t sure.

“I suppose you want to do that to me?”

He laughed, as if what she’d said was completely out of the realm of possibility. Which offended the hell out of her, because why would he enjoy other females like that but not her? And why in the world would she be upset about that?

“I like your spirit, little wolf. But it could use … discipline.”

“My dad said the same thing.” She winced, regretting both the words and the memories that rushed in through the opening she’d made for them.

The little brat needs discipline. Her father’d say it right before he came at her with a belt or a wooden spoon or whatever he had handy. She’d been so spirited as a child, defying her parents at every opportunity, enraging her alcoholic father to the point of violence.

So how could she possibly view Shade’s assortment of whips and other, unidentifiable objects as anything other than instruments intended to cause pain? What kind of messed-up sicko was she?

Shade stroked a thumb over her cheek. “Runa? Hey, you okay?” He finally released her wrists and shifted his weight as he prepared to climb off her. “We’ll do this later.”

“No.” She tightened her legs around his waist. “I think … I think you would be doing me a favor if you just keep … you know.” Now that her anger had faded, she couldn’t be as crude as she wanted to be.

“Fucking you?”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and desire bloomed in her core. “Yes.”

“You sure?” When she nodded, he sank against her once more, his hips rolling into her even as a sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Good, because stopping would put me in a world of pain.”