Pleasure Me
    Wylder’s paws pounded the ground relentlessly.
    She swerved in another direction, zigzagging through the woods. A patch of light peeked through the trees, a grassy clearing and sizeable pond beyond the stand. On another burst of speed, she broke through the forest, the wind hitting her face. A deer and her fawn stopped drinking at the pond. Their stares lasted less time than the rabbit’s, both animals sprinting into the brush.
    Starr raced toward the pond to wash away her scent, make this pursuit even harder on Wylder. See how much he could take. How far he’d—
    She stopped and reared back. He’d already circled and faced her just short of the pond. His reddish-brown fur glistened, powerful shoulders heaving with his strained pants, gray eyes filled with animal lust and human desire.
    God, he was hot.
    Waves of warmth rolled through Starr, her head swimming, heart whapping painfully. Never had she experienced such delicious weakness mingled with reckless wonder. She waited for him to approach.
    He stood his ground, pure dominant.
    Her blood thickened. She broke first and padded to him, her muzzle against his, drawing in his luscious scent. A sexy beast, 1,000 percent male. The woman in her trembled, the wolf whimpered in willing submission. On a hoarse growl, he pressed close, his superior size and weight subduing her further. She fell down. He followed. They rolled across the grass, shifting to their human forms, naked limbs entwined, his pecs crushing her breasts, her soft folds snuggled against his rigid cock.
    They kissed with the urgency of war-torn lovers separated for decades, their fingers pushing into each other’s hair, palms cupping skulls, holding tight. He thrust his tongue into her mouth first.
    Screw that.
    She pushed his tongue aside to fill his mouth with hers, taste his exquisite flavor, like no one else’s on earth. A man, a wolf, she’d been born for. But there was still her bruised heart to consider. Sex was all she could handle now. Love wasn’t even in the equation at this point. Maybe ever.
    Too much had happened.
    Crap, she didn’t want to remember bad times. Growling as he had earlier, she dove in for more, her kiss frantic enough for her teeth to cut into her bottom lip. She ignored the pain, struggling to get closer. He allowed her raging lust for a moment before taking command like the kickass guy he was, filling her mouth sure and deep. On an indistinct moan, she slung her leg over his and ground her pussy into his shaft.
    Wylder rolled them over and tore his mouth free. His hair swung forward, skimming his cheeks. He grabbed his cock.
    He glanced up, eyes practically bulging. “What?”
    “Not yet. Wait.”
    “For what?”
    “I want to look at you.”
    “Because I do.” She’d waited twelve long years for this and wasn’t going to endure a second longer. She shoved him as hard as she could.
    Caught off guard, he windmilled his arms to stop himself, failed, and crashed over her leg to the grass. She crawled to his side before he could budge. “Don’t move.”
    He stared up at her. “Why are you doing this? I’m in pain here.”
    And she wasn’t? She spoke through her teeth. “I’m only asking for a minute.”
    “Fine. You have sixty seconds. One, two, three—”
    She smacked his arm and leaned back to take him in. Her breath spilled out on a wanting sigh. The man was perfect, his chest hard slabs of muscle, skin bronzed, tiny nipples the color of ginger, pecs and abs so well defined they were more than sculpted. Chiseled was the only description she could think of with the word still falling short of how perfect he was.
    Her mouth watered.
    A silky line of dark hair ran beneath his navel to his groin, his thatch thick and fragrant. His cock jutted from the tangle of curls, the column meaty, several veins dashing down its hard length, the crown smooth and engorged with blood, nearly scarlet with his arousal.
    He was hurting. Showing

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