Free Wolf at the Door by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

mouths fought and tasted each other, but really all they did was get in each other’s way, until . . .
    “Fuck it,” he growled in a voice so deep she could barely make out what he’d said. Then he tugged, hard, and buttons went flying and his hands were on her bra, over her bra, under her bra, and then her bra was up to her neck and she didn’t care at all.
    She didn’t care that much of his weight was on her, either. She kind of liked it. She knew he couldn’t help it, that he was operating through a fog of lust so thick he probably couldn’t remember either of their names. Strange, though. Usually she disliked that behavior, being squashed beneath a laboring man . . . male werewolves tended toward being control freaks during sex. It was all about domination. Not that she minded a bit of domination now and again—it was good for the digestion if nothing else—but she liked how it didn’t feel like a contest with Edward.
    They both wanted exactly the same thing. And they were both determined to get it.
    She reached down, found his belt buckle, yanked. It came loose with terrific ease and she flung it away, and then her fingers were busy at his zipper and he groaned into her mouth.
    She wriggled beneath him, trying to help him when she felt his hands on the backs of her thighs, lifting her toward him. She managed to tug her panties down enough to let him in, then seized his warm, sweetly throbbing member. She started to guide it inside her as he surged forward. Then she brought her knees up and pulled him to her as he sucked on her lower lip and thrust.
    And oh God, it was everything, it was the world, he was the world. “Ah!”
    He stopped at once and she could feel the tension in his arms, the muscles thrumming as he fought not to slam into her again, fought despite the way his body was screaming his need to both of them. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry, Rachael. Did I hurt you?”
    “Yes. And you’d better do it again or you’ll need to find a dentist immediately.”
    He laughed into her mouth and surged forward again, and she—
    lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
    —wasn’t quite sure where her desires ended and his began, and didn’t much care, either.
    She met him at every stroke and ( very unusual for her!) felt her climax start to build almost at once, felt the familiar-yetstrange sensation of an orgasm bearing down on her like a fighter jet.
    Yes, it’s definitely been too long. Far, far too long, and my God, Edward! Where has your dick been all my life?
    “Ah, God,” she groaned. “I’m going to come, Edward, sorry, I’m going—ahhhhh!”
    His teeth had been nibbling the hollow of her throat, his hands were fisted in her hair, and he ground out something like, “Thhkkk ddd,” which she assumed was “Thank God.”
    She knew why, could feel the muscles in his body actually shift as he reached his own point of no return. Then he was stiffening in her arms, went rigid in her arms. She could feel the new rush of heat inside her, saw his eyes roll up, and thought, Good thing we’re on the floor; I don’t think either of us could have kept our feet.
    Then he collapsed over her, whispering, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
    Her thoughts exactly.

Sixteen
     
    “Oh, my.” She traced her finger over the fresh, orange-sized bruise he had on his left hip. “Did you forget to wear your safety equipment?”
    “After what just happened, I should definitely get some,” he agreed.
    His hair was adoringly rumpled. (Adoringly? Hair can be adoringly rumpled? If she had heard some other ninny say it, she would have laughed herself sick.)
    He glanced down and saw the bruise she was gently stroking. “Oh, that. Yeah. When you had your crying