Page 47 of Captured By the Werewolf Highwaymen

His cock.

Dear God. It was…enormous. She’d thought him big as a human man, but now, Lord in Heaven, she couldn’t begin to fathom how anyone could possess such a tremendous…thing.

It was thick. Veined and red, his cock curved up, nearly reaching his navel. The head was wide, gleaming, and already fluid leaked from the slit in a copious, steady stream.

The chase had aroused him, as much as it had stirred her. And at the sight of him, so engorged, so ready to mate—with her—Clara’s hands itched to touch him, and her body ached with a potent emptiness longing to be filled.

“You can’t run far enough,” Des growled in his wolfish voice. “I’ll always catch you.”

“Perhaps,” she said, breathless, “I want to be caught.”

“Then…” He took another step, shortening the distance between them. “You’re not afraid? Or disgusted?”

“Oh, no.” She moved to stand only a foot away from him. The heat of his body penetrated hers, chasing away any remaining chill. She had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. “I think you’re stunning. In every form you possess.”

He gave a deep rumble.

“May I touch you?” she asked softly.

“I need you to.”

His rumble turned into a full growl when she laid her hand upon his stomach. His fur was both coarse and silken, and it clung to all the beautiful shapes of his body. She glided her hand up and down his torso to learn all of his textures, the hardness of his muscles and the velvet of his fur. Strength and potency emanated from him, a wild and unchecked power that made her lightheaded.

“You’re like a being from one of my stories,” she murmured. “Better. Because you’re real.”

“And you aren’t frightened. After what you’ve seen me become. After what you know I can do.” These were statements, not questions, and yet there was a thread of uncertainty beneath.

“That’s what makes you even more incredible.” She was entranced, letting her hands roam over his body and through his fur. “That you are so many astonishing things, ferocious things, and yet…with me…you are gentle.”

“There’s nothing gentle about what I want from you.” He captured her hand as it skimmed over his chest, pressing it tightly to where his heart thundered.

“Then,” she said, nuzzling her face in his pelt, “do them.”

Suddenly, she was swept up in his arms. He held her easily, and he laid her down onto the dew-covered grass. His hands were all over her, tracing down her throat, palming her breasts through her bodice, gathering her skirts. He was careful with his claws, though he scraped them deliciously across her neck and over the flesh of her upper chest, summoning shivers of sensation. He loomed over her, massive, and blocked out her view of the clearing.

He settled between her legs, stretched wide to accommodate his size. All she could see and know was Des, this strange and wondrous form of his, and the world spun around her.

He bent down to tongue her throat. She arched up into the rough texture. His breath was hot on her as his muzzle moved along her body, then went lower. He shoved up her skirts so that they bunched at her waist, uncovering her sex. He growled again.

“The sight of your cunt,” he grated, then pressed his muzzle to her mound. “The scent. You want me, want what I can give you.”

“You’ve known,” she realized, even as she writhed beneath the feel of him grazing her sex. “All along. You could smell how my body responded to you.”

If wolves could smile, Des did. His eyes were bright. “Sparrow, you’ve wanted me to fuck you from the moment you first saw me.”

A hectic flush coursed through her cheeks. “Should I be ashamed? Arthur⁠—”

“The hell with Arthur,” Des snarled. “He’s dead. This is for us.”

Whatever concerns she might have felt for what she should and shouldn’t feel vanished the moment his coarse tongue lapped at her sex. All thought, all logic or notions of propriety, they all burned away as Des licked her. His tongue was large, and long, and its roughness abraded her delectably. He licked her entrance and her clitoris at the same time.

“Oh, God.” She writhed and shook as Des devoured her cunt.

The more he licked her, the more her body grew enflamed, until she was mad with need. Her nipples were taut and throbbing as they pressed against the inside of her bodice. Her thighs were wet, both from him and her own arousal.

Mindful of his claws, he pressed his thumb to her opening as he sucked her clitoris.

She screamed her release into the night, a long, pained keen of pleasure. Another scream tore from her as he continued to pleasure her mercilessly, and again.