Moon Chosen #1 (BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance)

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Moon Chosen #1 (BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance) Page 7

by Mac Flynn

I stumbled backwards until my back hit the wall. He strode up to me and set his hands on either side of my head. I turned my face away and closed my eyes. He leaned towards me and his warm breath washed over my quivering neck. My body was lit with a new fire, but this one was far more enjoyable. It was a sensual flame that burned inside me, and it ached for his touch, for his teaching lips on my body. The ache pooled between my legs and begged for me to give in to the strange, uncontrollable force that arose inside me.

  "So beautiful. . ." he murmured.

  "G-go away," I stammered.

  He chuckled and I jumped when I felt his hot lips on my throat. "I know you want this. I can smell your need."

  I shivered. He was right. My body ached with the desire for him to take me and make me his. I longed to be subdued, to be claimed by this powerful male. My breath quickened and I squirmed against the wall. The cool touch of stone did nothing to alleviate the burning fire of lust inside me.

  "We. . .we can't," I protested.

  His warm lips traveled down the quivering flesh of my neck. His voice swept over me like a warm summer breeze. "We can't deny the blood. We can only accept its demands until we're free of this need."

  "We. . .we have. . .have to fight it," I insisted.

  It was a battle I was quickly losing. A wave of heat washed over me and left me aching for more. My hands gripped the walls. I bit my lip to stifle a groan. Every part of me longed to be taken, to be conquered and possessed by this handsome stranger before me. He held such an allure around him. I found myself drawn to him like I'd never been drawn to anyone else.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. My gaze fell on his face. His eyes burned with the same lust I felt inside me. My resolve melted against such a heated onslaught of desire. He leaned down and captured my lips in a searing, possessive kiss.

  I leaned into the kiss and rubbed my heated, tense body against his. He pressed his stiff need against my inner thigh. I moaned at the feel and size of him. He broke our kiss and blazed a trail down my neck. His hands weren't idle. One of them slipped upward beneath my shirt and caught one of my swollen, heaving breasts in his palm. He rubbed and massaged my soft, pliable flesh. I groaned and leaned into his touch.

  His other hand unbuttoned the button of my jeans. My body was soaked in sweat, so he was able to slip my pants off my wide hips. They dropped to the ground and revealed my white underwear. They were wet with my need. I jumped when he pressed his fingers against my clothed folds. He rubbed his hand against me. My hips rocked in time with his teasing movements.

  "Please," I groaned.

  His voice was hoarse, strained. He longed to take me as I longed for him to make me his. "Not yet."

  "Please," I pleaded.

  His hands shook at my plea, but he continued his sweet, aching tortures of my body. He unclasped my bra, but my shirt was still in the way. A growl escaped his lips at its interference. He removed his hand and traced his fingers up the seam. My eyes widened when his nails cut clean through the fabric. The shirt and bra were sliced on the sides, and both joined my jeans on the floor.

  I stood before him nearly naked. All that remained was my underwear. I blushed and tried to cover myself with my hands. He grabbed my hands in his and pinned them to the wall on either side of my head.

  "You will show me," he growled.

  I shivered, but didn't fight him. He leaned back and admired me. His appreciative eyes told me what he thought. I blushed under such careful, lustful scrutiny. His breathing quickened and I noticed his clothes were stretched. Smalls tufts of fur slowly flowed from his skin. His teeth and fingers lengthened, and his eyes took on a more feral look.

  I caught a whiff of a strange, intoxicating smell. It flowed off him in thick waves and slipped over me like warm perfume. The smell robbed me of the last vestiges of hesitation. I needed him. I couldn't think of anything else other than him taking me again and again. I would enjoy it. The sweet smell promised me pleasures I'd never dreamed about, if I would only submit to him.

  I leaned my head back and groaned. My breasts grew larger, swollen with my need and this strange smell that engulfed me. My hips thickened and glistened under the sheen of sweat on my quivering flesh. I squirmed in his grasp. The delicious ache between my legs was increased ten-fold. I rubbed my thighs against each other, but that only worsened the need. Only he could satisfy the desire that grew inside me.

  He looked me over with his shining yellow eyes and growled. The sound was more animal than human, and sent shivers down my spine. I whimpered in return. It was a plea for him to take me, to make me his and pleasure me like I would allow no other man to pleasure me.

  He swooped down and snatched my lips with his. His hands tore off my flimsy, soaked underwear and it was tossed to a dark corner of the room. His fingers slid over my quivering, tense flesh. His touch seared my skin. I moaned into our kiss. He growled and tore his own clothes from his body. Our naked flesh pressed tight against each other. We were both desperate to become one, to satisfy the ache that burned inside us.

  He swung me into his arms and carried me over to the bed. He set me down atop the thick fur blankets and covered me with his warm body. His stiff, swollen member pressed against me wet opening. I opened my legs and moaned when he pushed inside me. He stretched my walls and brushed against my sensitive clit. A wave of pleasure washed over me.

  I leaned back and smiled. This was heaven, a beautiful, lust-filled paradise. There was only the two of us and our need for one another.

  He pulled out and thrust back inside me. His long, smooth stroke touched the fire inside me and stoked it ever higher. I needed more. More of this pleasure, and more of him inside me. I clutched his arms and pushed my hips against him to deepen the penetration. He grunted and thrust hard into me.

  He raised himself onto his arms and looked down on me with such blatant possession that I shuddered. His voice was no longer human. It was filled with a feral lust that knew nothing but the natural demand to take me and make me his, to claim me as his own. No other would know me.

  "Mine," he growled.

  I whimpered and squirmed beneath him. My only thought was to appease the wild desire that raged inside me. Only he could do it, only he could quench the lustful thirst that threatened to consume me.

  "Please," I begged.

  "Yes," he hissed. He pulled out and slowly, achingly slowly, he pushed back inside me. "Tell me you are mine."

  This new, agonizing torture was too much. I would have agreed to anything if it meant he would take me like a lustful lover. "Yours! Only yours!" I cried out.

  "Mine!" he called to the quiet room.

  It bore witness to a sexual frenzy that was fueled by lust and a blinding, wild desire to procreate. He thrust hard and fast into me. I reveled in the feel of him taking me, possessing me again and again. Each stroke was a proclamation of his ownership, each grunt a claim over me. I allowed him to feed his male need to take me, and in return my aching lust was fulfilled. My body was awash in pleasure that touched every inch of me. It was more intimate than any kiss or stroke of a finger.

  I almost regretted when my orgasm swept over me. It took me with such force that I was left both satisfied and exhausted. He continued to thrust into me, stretching my pleasure into greater, more delicious heights. A few moments later he stiffened and grunted. His body tensed and I felt him spill into me.

  Then he was spent. I gasped when my lover collapsed atop me, but he soon rolled off me. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me close to his chest. The hints of fuzz over his body felt like a warm, soft cushion. I snuggled against him and sighed. He stroked my hair, and I fell asleep in the comfort of his possessive arms.

  CHAPTER 8

 

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