Page 119 of Blood & Claw

He didn’t stop there. No, he began teasing her with his lips, tongue, and teeth.

Ailsa cried out once more, grabbing hold of his arms—for his hands still gripped her hips, holding her fast—to brace herself. She dug her nails into his biceps, enjoying the way he shuddered.

But a moment later, her thoughts scattered.

Gods! The way he was flicking his tongue. How did he know to do that?

She swallowed a sob as her thighs started to quiver, pleasure coiling tight in her loins.

She was climbing. Clawing her way toward something.

Her pulse thundered, and sweat trickled down her back. The heat from the fire bathed her skin. She was about to catch fire, about to burn to a cinder.

Her back curved, her fingernails biting deeper into his arms as his mouth devoured her, and then hot pleasure clenched and pulsed out from where he now sucked, crashing through her like waves as she bucked and writhed against him.

She cried out again, the sound splitting the air like a wild animal. By The Mother. This was—

He moved then, with breathtaking swiftness, and suddenly, she was tumbling onto her back on the cloaks.

He reared over her, his hard-muscled body gleaming. Sweat tracked down the cords of his neck and disappeared beneath the whorls of hair on his chest.

Ailsa watched a droplet travel south. Her tongue darted out, tracing her lower lip—and then her mouth started to ache.

Reaching down between them, her fingers wrapped around his straining prick. It jerked in her grip, and she traced the swollen, quivering length of it with a sharp nail.

He gave a low, guttural groan, his eyelids fluttering. “Stop that, Ailsa,” he said roughly. “Or I’ll come right now.”

Her quim clenched. She’d like to see that, but she wanted him inside her too.

Groaning his name, she spread herself open for him, her hand guiding the tip of his shaft between her thighs, stroking the swollen crown through her wetness. She wasn’t sure if that was what she was supposed to do, but she was running on pure instinct now.

A nerve jumped on his cheek. “Are you ready?”

“Aye.” Her voice was low and guttural—it didn’t sound like her own.

Darach was staring down at her now with flared nostrils. She marked then how his pupils had slitted; his eyes glowed in the firelight. “We’re taking this slow.” His voice came out in a growl, as if he was forcing the words out.

She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.

He didn’t need to leash himself.

She didn’t care how they took it—just as long as he fucked her.

Letting go of his shaft, she lay back, propping herself up onto her shoulders to watch as he nestled the tip of his length at her entrance. And then, he started to push into her.

The first couple of inches were easy, and she sighed at the slick way their bodies joined. But then a hot, stinging pain stabbed through her loins, and she bit down on her lower lip.

Heat flared straight afterward, warming her belly.

Darach halted, waiting while she adjusted to him. His body quivered as he stroked her legs, from her upper thighs all the way down to her ankles, pausing at the rose tattoo on her calf. “Nice,” he grunted, stroking it with his thumb.

“I use it to channel earth magic,” she panted, barely lucid under his touch. “I—”

Her voice cut off as he reached between her thighs once more. He stroked her with the pad of his thumb, circling her most sensitive spot. A melting sensation followed, and she cried out, rolling her hips against him.

He sank another inch into her. And then another.

The cords on his neck stood out as he penetrated her. His chest rose and fell sharply, and his lips parted.