Dark Wolf Rising (Bloodrunners) by Rhyannon Byrd Page B

his tongue greedily lapping those hot, melting juices...with no thought to anything but making her come, making her scream.
    “Inside me,” she cried, pushing her hands down on his. “Now!”
    Clenching his teeth, he rimmed the delicate, slippery opening again, thinking it seemed incredibly small as he pushed the tip of his index finger inside. Plush, sleek muscles clamped down on him, and he couldn’t stop the feral growl that rumbled up from his chest, imagining what it would feel like to have her clasping onto his dick like that.
    “You’re so tight,” he ground out, pushing in another fingertip, then working both digits deeper inside, his free hand reaching over their heads and fisting around one of the headboard’s wooden slats. The wood groaned from the power of his grip, his fingers leaving deep impressions in the wood.
    “You have such big fingers,” she moaned, her head tossing from side to side, arms thrown over her head in a purely sexual pose of surrender. “Feels so good.”
    Ah, God, she had no idea. She was as tender and silky as a rain-slick petal, the mouthwatering scent of her sex the most addictive thing that had ever filled his head. He found her clit with his thumb, pumping his fingers as he buried his face in the pillow, fighting for control. Christ, this was insane. Nothing was supposed to feel this good...this right.
    When she finally settled after another shattering orgasm, relaxing beside him, Eric ripped himself away from her...the bed, and stumbled toward the bathroom at the opposite end of the room. He slammed the door shut behind him, shaking from head to toe as he leaned back against it, his breath sawing past his lips in a series of rough, rapid bursts.
    For two seconds, he fought the urge to lift his slick fingers to his mouth, then lost. Nostrils flaring, he shoved them past his lips and nearly died, right there, in the cheap little motel bathroom with cracked linoleum all around him. He sucked on his fingers as if he’d been starved for days, her succulent taste exploding over his senses like something that could destroy him. It was that sweet... that decadent... that addictive. A narcotic that tasted like it’d been made especially for him.
    His body ached, his hard cock pulsing with need, throbbing with pain. He badly wanted to take matters into his own hand and relieve the pressure, but knew it was too risky. Once out, he might never get the damn beast back in its cage.
    Moving toward the sink, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the counter as he turned on the tap, then splashed his face with cold water. Lifting his head, Eric stared in the mirror, no longer recognizing the face staring back at him. It was hard, etched with need, his eyes glowing with the primitive hunger of the wolf, an unusual rim of amber around the brighter silver that he’d never seen before. He didn’t know what it meant—but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Craving, dark and inhuman, battered against his conscience like a hammer, fighting to break him down...shatter his control.
    You can do this. You can fight it. Just keep it the hell together.
    At the same time, his wolf snarled for that reasonable voice to shut the hell up, urging him to act on the destructive craving clawing him to shreds on the inside, until he was amazed he hadn’t bled out from the aggressive force of his hunger.
    Just take her... It’s what she wants. What she needs.
    Opportunistic bastard! This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to find her sister and be safe at home back in Virginia. She didn’t want her life turned upside down by a bunch of strangers, and especially by him. They’d rubbed each other the wrong way from the very beginning. Not that it kept him from wanting her so badly his stomach was tied in knots, his cock so hard he could have hammered it through a bloody wall.
    She cried out, the bleak sound muffled by the door, but he could hear the pain and need in those husky notes, and knew she was