She felt the blunt head of his cock at her entrance and she pushed back against him, desperate to feel his thick length inside her.
He thrust inside her, bracing her with his forearm so he could get all the way inside her, deep and hard and fast. She groaned and let her head drop forward, fisting the coverlet and concentrating on the sensations that every stroke of his thick cock built inside her.
His chest was hot against her back, and its sprinkling of hair tickled her spine as he screwed her. She could feel his rapid breath against her back as he panted, fighting for breath as his orgasm built.
Grant rolled his hips as he worked his way in and out of her slick, sensitive pussy. She arched her back, angling her hips so he could push deeper, thrust harder, and with every thrust she gave a helpless moan. She was beyond words, beyond thought, focused only on the feelings Grant stirred in her as he pushed inside her again and again, driven by age-old animal instinct.
He pistoned into her and her hands slipped on the comforter, the motion of his body pushing her down so she was lying flat on the bed, her thighs together, Grant working his cock into the tight space and gasping with effort and arousal as he worked her towards orgasm. With his arms braced on either side of her and his weight on her back, she was effectively trapped, unable to do anything but feel.
She moaned into the comforter, voice hoarse as Grant fucked her towards climax. She trembled beneath him as the heat and pressure mounted in her core, and just as she was on the brink of coming, Grant nudged her legs further apart and used his fingers to rub her clit with hard, rapid strokes that had her coming and coming, a violent orgasm that seemed as if it would never end, wave after wave of soul-wracking pleasure.
As she cried out helplessly, the orgasm rolling on and on, he let his brow drop against her back, groaning against her skin as he came. His cocked kicked inside her, his busy fingers never slowing until they were both trembling and sweat-soaked, gasping for breath and laughing delightedly.
He rolled away from her and drew her into his arms, stroking her damp hair away from her face. He looked down into her face. His pupils were huge in his intoxicating whiskey-colored eyes, his thick, sooty lashes half lowered, and he searched her face as if trying to memorize its every curve and feature. Then he bent his head and kissed her again, slowly and sweetly, with that same focused intensity, as if he wanted to keep every moment with him forever.
Chapter Thirteen
The morning sun that poured through the window had a bright, golden quality. Celeste lay there in an empty bed, eyes half open.
Jeffrey had, amazingly enough, agreed to sleep in the room next door with Mandy. He was entranced with her after having seen her beat the stuffing out of Truman the day before.
The door to the room swung open. Celeste smelled coffee, and she heard Grant padding across the room towards her. He’d brought her coffee in bed. This guy was a keeper.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him and smiled, until she saw the serious look on his face.
“Good morning, trouble.” Grant set the coffee down on the nightstand kissed Celeste on the neck.
“Good morning, hairball. Thanks for the coffee.” She sat up, grabbed the ceramic mug, and took a sip. “Ah. You even remembered how I like it. Hot and sweet.”
“Just like you.” Grant winked at her, but his smile was troubled.
“Something wrong?” Celeste asked. “Any news on the people who ambushed us?”
Grant sat down next to her, and the bed squeaked under his weight.
“Still nothing. There was no report to the police, so that means someone swooped in with a cleanup crew pretty quickly and removed the bodies and the cars. The license plates that Truman memorized? They were fake. There’s no such number in the registry.”
“Well, that sucks.” She took a bigger sip of coffee.
Grant nodded. “That’s not all. There’s been another lone wolf attack on a human. It was in upstate New York, yesterday. A wolf that was too large to be a real wolf killed a poacher. His drunk-ass friends ran to the cops, and told them they saw the wolf turn into a man.”
“Crud.” Celeste set the mug down on the table. “So what happens now?”
“We want to give the human authorities a little time to do their preliminary investigation, finish the autopsy and all that. They should get most of that done today, so we’ll fly there tonight, go out to the attack site in the dark when there are no humans around, and see what we can find. Maybe we can scent something. We’re taking William – he’s got an extremely enhanced sense of smell. Talbot’s the computer expert. He’s going to stay here and hack into the police database to look at their reports.”
Worry twisted inside her. “Who else is going with you?”
He named half a dozen people, including Truman, and his attorney Reynaldo from the Reno pack.
“Be careful,” she said quietly. “Come back to me. You big jerk.”
“I will,” he said. “You big nag.” He slid back into bed next to her. “I don’t have to go ’til later, though.”
“Oh, now you want to get all kissy-smoochy? I thought I was a big nag.”
Grant flashed her a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Did I say that?”
“Approximately thirty seconds ago.”
