Free The Shadows of Night by Ellen Fisher Page A

feline smile.
    The sensation of her body clutching his, squeezing him, surrounding him in warmth and moisture, drove him to the edge of madness.   He gritted his teeth, struggling not to lose control, but she tightened her inner muscles around him, and he groaned as a climax slammed into him.   He convulsed beneath her, throwing back his head, shockingly intense pleasure surging through him in waves.
    Afterward he opened his eyes to find her watching him with that catlike expression, her eyelids heavy.  
    “That wasn’t as good for you as it was for me,” he said softly.
    She shrugged a slim shoulder.   “It was fine.”
    “No.”   He lifted her off his thighs and sat up.   “It wasn’t fine.   Not for you.   Let me please you.”
    Her eyes widened with surprise.   “But you are finished.”
    He wasn’t sure of that, actually.   He had an odd certainty he could make love to her for the rest of the day, over and over again.   “But you are not,” he said firmly, and pushed her back onto the cot.   This time she didn’t resist.
    He heard her sigh of pleasure as he nuzzled her shoulder, then moved his mouth lower and drew her nipple into his mouth.   She moaned, then began to twist beneath him, digging her fingers into his hair, letting her sharp nails sink into his bare shoulders.   A tendril of fear slid through him in response to the mild pain, but he shoved it away and continued to suckle, pleased by her responsiveness.  
    This Claw was far from passive.
    He sucked hard on one nipple and rolled the other between his fingers, and suddenly she jerked beneath him and uttered a long, gasping cry of pleasure.   At last she collapsed back against the mattress, and he lifted his head and regarded her curiously.
    “You found that… satisfying?”
    She gave a long sigh of satisfaction.   “I have never…”   She hesitated.   “That has never happened before.”
    It had never happened to a woman he’d made love to before, either.   She was so responsive, so eager, that he felt a stab of lust in his groin.   Many Antler men would regard her sexual enthusiasm as animalistic, or simply barbaric, but he found it surprisingly pleasing. It was enjoyable to make love to a woman who responded so readily.
    “Let’s do it again,” he suggested, and lowered his head.
    “I couldn’t…” she began, then broke off with a moan as his lips moved down the flat, strong planes of her stomach.   He kissed the shallow indentation of her belly button, then let his hand drift lower, through the dark, curling at the juncture of her thighs.  
    His finger delved into her soft, wet flesh, parting her till he found her most sensitive flesh, and stroking her there in a gentle, deliberate rhythm.   She was wet, from his moisture as well as her own, and his hand moved easily against her.   He listened to the soft gasping sounds she made, and his own arousal grew, swelling within him, until he was hard again.  
    “Please,” she whispered at last.
    He shook his head.   “It’s my turn to torment you, Claw.”
    She spoke through her teeth.   “I… can’t… wait.”
    “Yes.   You can.”   He moved down her body, lowered his head, and stroked his tongue across her wet flesh.   She sobbed, arching her hips right off the bed.
    “Now.   Now .”
    “When I permit it, and not a moment before,” he said softly.   “You are too accustomed to being in charge.”
    She lifted her head and glared at him.   “I am going to shift and devour you, antlers and all.”
    “Really?”   He stroked her lazily with his tongue, and she sobbed.
    “Yes,” she whispered.   “Immediately… after we are done here.”
    “Surprisingly enough, that doesn’t provide me with much incentive to hurry.”   He stroked her again, and again, relishing the sweet taste of her, the spicy scent of her arousal, the desperate sounds of need she made.   He was teasing her as much as she had teased him earlier, and finding it