...A half-hour later, Ryanne sat on her bed combing out her long, damp hair. The television was on low. The shower had definitely relaxed her. Now she could concentrate on her other hunger.
She scanned the take-out menus and was reaching for the phone when a lead fist pounded on her door. Wondering who had the heavy hand, she padded barefoot to the living room and used a small burst of power to determine the identity of her visitor. Michael. She unlocked the door and swung it open.
He stood there with a large pizza box and a melt-your-heart smile. “I brought food, hoping you’d be amenable to letting me in.”
Ryanne flashed a grin. “The pizza can stay. You…”
He shot her an I’m-a-puppy-please-love-me look.
Rolling her eyes, she stepped aside and waved him through. His scent enveloped her as he passed—wind and rain…that moment when a hot, sticky day turns chilly before an approaching storm.
A spicy shiver of lust tightened her body from breast to belly; her nipples chafed against the cotton of her thin tank top. Her hands trembled as she locked the door, then she led him into the kitchen on unsteady legs.
He set the box on the table and yanked off his jacket. “I-” His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. “I can smell your arousal,” he said in a deep, rumbling bass, his expression wild and primitive.
Michael’s words triggered a tide of need, and she instinctively moved back. He followed, a wolf stalking its prey.
Her vaginal muscles clenched in anticipation, her heart racing with a combination of excitement and fear. Moisture flooded her pussy, hot and deep.
She could barely breathe, her nipples throbbing, her clit swollen and aching. The volatile sensations swamped her to the point of orgasm, and he hadn’t even touched her.
Before she could blink, he was there, looming over her, his otherworldly energy bathing him in a red light. Hers flared yellow in answer.
“Do you want this?” he rumbled, his eyes sharp and intense.
Her mouth had gone dry as the Mojave, and she had to swallow three times before she could answer. “Yes,” she whispered.
That one word was all it took. He crushed her to him, capturing her mouth in a wild, feral kiss that had their teeth clicking together as they devoured one another.
Michael swept her up into his arms. “Bedroom?” he grunted, licking the side of her neck.
Under the onslaught of pleasure, she struggled to remember where she was. “Right, then left,” she directed, her breath catching as the tip of his tongue caught the sensitive spot behind her ear.
The next thing she knew, the soft cotton of bed sheets pressed into her back. A chill skittered over her flesh as he dragged off her shirt. His hard, hot body bore down onto her.
Nipping and biting, gasping and grunting, they tore at each other’s clothes. Finally they were skin to skin, her nipples rubbing against his chest hair, the ridged muscles of his abdomen caressing her lower belly.
She moaned and bucked against him, fiery sensations shooting straight to her pussy. “Ahhh,” she cried.
Michael shifted, cupping her, and slid two fingers deep inside. “So wet, so hot,” he whispered roughly against her ear.
His fingers stretched her, filled her, and her inner muscles clamped down hard so that her womb clenched with frenzied need.
“So ready.” He added a third digit and thrusting deep, his thumb rubbed her clitoris. He fucked her with his hand, pumping hard and fast.
Ryanne screamed as spasm after spasm wracked her body. After clutching his shoulders, she pulled him closer, her hot cream soaking his hand.
Michael rubbed his face along the side of her throat and bit into the sensitive flesh between her neck and shoulder. She whimpered and scratched her nails over his damp shoulder blades.
Snarling and nipping his way to her breasts, he slurped one hardened peak into the moist heat of his mouth, suckling her with ferocious intensity. Treating the other nipple to the same attention, he ground his lower body against her. His cock, a hot branding iron, slid against the slick muscles of her abdomen, leaving trails of pre-cum.
Arching her body, she spread her legs wider, bringing his erection flush against her pubic mound. Her hands glided down his back, squeezing his firm ass cheeks. “Michael, please…” she groaned.
He reared up on his knees, his erection straining toward his belly button, thick and shiny. She shivered at the thought of it inside her, stretching, filling her.
Michael stared down at her, his expression primitive. “You are mine, Ryanne Night-Walker, mine...”