"Oh, fuuuuck," I gasped, my head tossing on the pillow and my nails scoring lines down Lucian's back. "Lucian. Gods, don't stop. Please don't stop."
Kisses were one compensation. Lucian's enormous cock buried to the hilt in my ass was another.
By the time I'd run all my errands, it was late afternoon, and I'd gone straight to the shack of solitude, meaning to have a civilized evening when Lucian came home from running the pack ragged. Cook some real food, converse like witty gentlemen (yeah right, but I could dream), put away all the stuff I'd brought from my apartment, and the stores I'd visited.
I'd gotten as far as putting the milk in the fridge when Lucian stormed through the door and tackled me onto the bed, his tongue in my mouth and his half-extended claws ripping my t-shirt off like tissue paper.
The rest of our clothes had survived, I thought.
Probably. At the moment, I couldn't care less.
"I'm not going to fucking stop," Lucian panted. "Not now.
