Free Oycher by Talyn Scott Page B

an itch, even though I scratched it on my own.”
    His eyes narrowed, and he flipped them again. “It’s not the same. As a werewolf, you need a mate’s touch, my touch.” He leaned back, placing a palm on each of her knees, spreading her slowly apart. “This also works two ways. If I sate you, my werewolf won’t slam the inside of my head from sensing your duress.” His palms skated the tops of her legs, his thumbs pressing her inner thighs as he traveled higher. “You feel that?”
    His touch went deeper than her legs. It soothed her internally, somehow. “Yeah.”
    “Stop or go?” His fingers spread wide as he pressed his thumbs higher and higher, until he hit the leg openings of her shorts.
    An ancient calling pulsed through her blood. “I’ll, mmm, tell you in a minute.”
    His thumbs found the elastic circling each of her legs and he dipped inside, as his mouth kissed the back of her right knee. “You smell as beautiful as you look.”
    She wiggled, trying to press her thighs together for a teensy bit of friction. “You smell like winter and man.”
    “I’m nothing close to a man.” He slid up her body, rubbing his steel-honed chest against her tingling breasts. She turned liquid, her body opening for anything he could give her. “Never forget that, Isla.” His mouth nipped at the corner of hers as her arms wrapped around the back of his neck. He kissed the bow of her top lip and moved down to the dip beneath her lower lip, licking.
    “Oh.” Her inner walls tightened convulsively, squeezing. His lips pressed flatly against hers, brushing back and forth, his mouth opening and inhaling her scent. Then he kissed her in an openmouthed ravishment that flooded her panties. Lightning blasted her spine. “Can’t breathe.”
    “Me, neither.” Terje scraped his canines over her chin, deftly avoiding her throat. He moved down, down, and down, until he trailed his nose across her inner thigh and then pressed his face over the sexual heart of her, inhaling deeply between her legs. “So very delicious, I’m hungry for you, My Mate,” he said against the piece of denim separating his mouth from her nether lips. His thumbs still dipping and stroking under the elastic of her panties, he placed a kiss directly where Isla needed to be filled. “I want to swallow you down my throat.”
    Isla clutched the back of Terje’s head, his silky white-blonde hair sliding between her fingers, pressing his nose in the vicinity of her throbbing clitoris, and tried to strike it home. “Right. Here.”
    “Here?” His head dipped, and his tongue flicked beneath the edge of her shorts.
    “No!” His canines tugged at the hem of her panties, and she huffed in frustration.
    “Where, Isla?” He looked up her parted thighs, his eyes a white blaze between them. His tongue, a weird combination of velvet and sandpaper, flicked out and licked his lips.
    She gasped. “Y-you can make your tongue longer?”
    “Only for you.” His hands gripped her hips, his response a familiar sequence of breathing: Three breaths in, one slow exhale out. A waft of cool air hit her bottom before she realized her shorts were gone. Terje was shaking over her, his aura blasting blue, white, and then back to normal, flickering like a club strobe.
    He growled. “Mine!” He gripped his forehead, and she spied claws had emerged. She inched away and he pulled her back down. “Taste.” Pressing his face on her bare pussy, he breathed in her scent, inhaling slowly, wallowing his face back and forth over her silken lips.
    Three breaths in, one slow exhale.
    Three breaths in, one slow exhale.
    Three breaths in, one slow exhale.
    He continued to perspire, a sheen of moisture glossing the high planes of his cheekbones. Glistening dots pebbled above his upper lip as his tongue caressed her pink flesh, drifting up and down in a leisurely lick until his thumbs spread her wide. Embarrassment warmed her, when he stared at her for a few heartbeats, gazing,