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The words had barely left my lips when his mouth claimed mine. He was a man who knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what I wanted, and his kiss reflected that. It was urgent, hungry, his mouth plundering as our tongues tangled, tasted, teased.
God, the man could kiss.
After what could have been hours, he groaned, an almost demanding sound that vibrated through my mouth. A sound I understood completely. Because, just like him, I wanted more than just his lips. I wanted him inside, deep inside, thrusting long and hard.
I moved my legs to give him greater access, then raised my eyes to his. "If you want me so badly, why don't you take me?"
"Because I'm trying to be considerate of all those bruises." He pressed himself between my legs, sliding his cock back and forth, teasing, but not entering.
"I don't want consideration." But it came out a strangled sound as the heated tip of him began to slide inside.
"Then what do you want?" he murmured, withdrawing briefly. "This?" he added, sliding back inside again, harder and deeper this time.
Pleasure rippled through me, and I groaned. Heard his answering chuckle.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Do," I gasped, and almost came as he rammed himself deep.
Then he began to move, to thrust, and I closed my eyes, savoring and enjoying the sensations flowing through me as the heat of him filled me and the cooling water lapped with ever more force across our skin.
He took his time, stroking slow but deep as he licked and nipped and kissed. Eventually the pressure began to build low in my stomach and fan through the rest of me, first in languorous waves, then quicker, faster, until it became a molten force that made me tremble, twitch, and groan. Had me wanting more, and yet not wanting it all to end so soon.
His breathing became as harsh as mine, his tempo more urgent. Water rocked over the bath's edge, splashing across the tiles, but right then, the only tide that mattered was the one of pleasure rising between us, and boy, was it rising. I shuddered, writhed, until my moans filled the night and it felt as if I was going to tear apart from the sheer force of enjoyment.
"Let go," he whispered, pressing butterfly kisses against my nose, my cheek, my lips as he thrust deep and hard inside me. "I want to hear it. Feel it."
As if his words were a trigger, my orgasm hit, and suddenly I was shuddering, squirming, my moans so loud they'd surely have to hear them in the apartment next door.
Then he was coming with me, his lips capturing mine as my body clenched around him, his kiss urgent as his body thrust and thrust, until there was nothing left but exhausted, joyous satisfaction.
For several minutes afterward we didn't move, just allowed the cooling water to wash the heat from our skin and our breathing to return to normal. Then he stirred and gave me a sweet, gentle kiss.
"Far better than attending a premier," he murmured. "Though I have to admit, I was intending to take you during the show."
I grinned. "Imagine the headlines that would have created, 'Son of billionaire thrown out of premier for indiscriminate sex'."
"Oh, there wasn't going to be anything indiscriminate about it - and we had a private box."
"I do like a man who thinks ahead."
"Rather than a man who thinks with his head?"
The cheeky twinkle in his eyes made me chuckle. I raised my hips and rubbed myself up and down his penis. He may have just reached the heights, but he was half ready to go again.
There were definite advantages to being a werewolf, and a revved up sex drive was certainly one of them.
"Thinking with the lower head can sometimes have its advantages."
"Hmmm," he murmured, brushing my lips with another kiss. "Shall we retreat to your bed and discuss just what those advantages might be?"
"Most definitely."
So we did. And much enjoyable "discussion" was had.
It was only later, when I was lying warm and replete in the circle of his arms, that he asked the question I'd been waiting for all night.
"So, how did you get all the bruises?"
