"I told you, jeans," she reminded him, finally straightening. "Geeze, Matthias, you need a shower." Another peel of laughter left her, as a mud-sodden hunk of hair fell over his face. He swiped it back and glared at her.
"Poor little wolfie," she crooned, as he kicked his pants free and stood before her, naked. And aroused. Horribly aroused. He had felt the mating heat returning in the past week, tormenting him with the need to possess her. To taste and touch her.
In the weeks since her surgery, as though her body recognized its need to heal, the heat had only been a slow simmer inside them both. Now it was blazing inside him, and the scent of her heat filled his head. His lashes lowered, as he flicked a look over the shorts and T-shirt she wore.
"Shower with me." He moved toward her, his body tightening with hunger. He had been like this for days, and it was killing him. If he didn't touch her, take her, he would go insane. Her tongue swiped over her lips, as she pushed her hair back from her face, sensuality marking her features.
Grace hadn't forgotten for a second what she had almost been taken from. Over the past two months she had made certain Matthias became an integral part of her family, so that, should the worst ever happen, he wouldn't be alone.
He fought her, of course. He knew what she was doing. But when she awoke in that hospital room, saw his pale, haggard features and his agonized whiskey eyes, she had known. Had she died, Matthias wouldn't have been long behind her. His soul was a part of hers. She wondered, even now, if either of them could survive without the other.
God she loved him.
She leaned against his damp, muddy chest, her eyes closing, as she felt the warmth of him surrounding her. She loved him like flowers loved the sunshine. They embraced it, drew in its heat, and basked in its approval. That's what she did with Matthias.
Her hands slid over his powerful forearms, as they enclosed her, his hands gripping the hem of her shirt and drawing it away from her body.
Tossing the material aside, his lips went instantly to the mark throbbing on her shoulder.
"Like the flowers love the sun," he whispered at her ear, echoing her thoughts. "That's how I love you, too, Grace. I can't survive without your warmth. Without your love." She turned to him, her head tilting back, her lips accepting his, as his tongue swept into her mouth. Honey and spice. That was his taste, and she gloried in it. Her tongue wrapped around his, drew the hormone from the swollen glands beneath it, and she let the fire have her. Kissing her, touching her, Matthias lifted her into his arms and carried her to the shower. He didn't take his lips from hers as he adjusted the water. He sipped at them, licked at them, shared his taste with her, then lifted her beneath the spray of the dual showerheads.
The glass doors closed behind them, wrapping them in steamy intimacy, as his hands coasted over her body. His lips moved down her neck, to her chest. Just beneath her collarbone, he licked the scars the bullet and subsequent surgery had left. They were still a little tender, but the stroke of his tongue was like the sunlight.
Grace lifted herself against him, her head tipping back, as water ran over her head, soaking her hair, running in rivulets over her face, down her neck, to his lips. Lips that were moving from the scar to her nipples.
He sucked the hard points inside his mouth, drew on them deeply, growled in pleasure as she rubbed her leg along his thigh. The tiny, nearly invisible hairs that grew there, soft as a whisper of silk, caressed her.
Her hands weren't still, and neither were his lips. As he sucked at her nipple, scraped it with his teeth, her head lifted to allow her lips to touch his brow. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, over the bulge of his arms.
Warmth and pleasure filled her. Wicked, sharp pleasure that clenched her womb and had her breath catching with an overload of sensations.
She had missed this. She had missed his touch, his kiss, the heat of him flowing over her and through her, until she didn't know where he ended and she began. He was her dreams, her adventures. Her sunlight.
"Poor Grace," he whispered against her breast. "I can smell how hot you are, how sweet."
"So fix it," she demanded breathlessly, leaning back against the shower wall, as his tongue swiped between her breasts, followed by a hungry growl.
She loved that growl. A bit of a rumble, a latent vibration of pleasure. She could distinguish between the sounds. Matthias growled a lot. Especially when he reached the saturated, slick folds of her pussy.
"Oh, God." He shuddered beneath her hands. He did that a lot, too. "I could eat you for hours. For days." His tongue licked through the narrow slit, circled her clit, and had her shuddering. She was supposed to stand when he did this? When his tongue licked and stroked, and sent fingers of electric heat whipping through her?
"I don't think I can hold out that long," she panted, feeling the excess juices that gathered and built between her thighs.
She ached for him. Ached with a need that went beyond the heat that seared their hungers, one that went to her soul. She wanted him inside her again. She wanted that affirmation, that proof that they were alive.
"You don't have to hold out long, Grace," he groaned, his fingers parting the tender flesh as he tongued her clitoris.
Sensation raced from the bundle of nerves, struck her womb, clenched it, and sent her arching, tilting her hips closer, as the need for orgasm began to thunder through her. She was desperate. Didn't he know she was crazy for this now?
"It's been too long," she cried out, as she felt his fingers fill her rather than the thick length of his cock. It was good. It was wickedly good, the feel of his fingers caressing her inside, parting her pussy and rubbing against sensitive nerve endings. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't what she hungered for. Even as his fingers slid deep inside her sex, flexed and stroked the tender tissue, she was begging for more. His tongue licked around her clit, tightening it with agonizing need, as the nerve endings pounded with the need for release.
He nuzzled his lips against it, drew it inside his mouth, and suckled her with firm heat and disastrous results. Grace exploded in pleasure, the clitoral orgasm whipping through her, jerking her muscles tighter, and causing her nails to bite into his shoulders, as he rose before her. The violent contractions of release were still thundering through her body, when he gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted her.
Grace curled her legs around his hips on instinct, forcing her eyes open to watch him in drowsy pleasure, as he tucked the head of his cock against the mouth of her vagina.
"I love you," he groaned raggedly, as he began to press inside her, the silky preseminal fluid filling her, sensitizing her further. "Like the flower loves the sun, the earth loves the rain. You're my life, Grace Anderson Slaughter."
She felt her heart melt for him all over again. That happened at least a dozen times a day, and it was always fresh, always new.
"I love you," she gasped, as he continued to slide inside her, stretching her, parting her, burning her.
"You're my soul, Matthias. My sun and my rain." Her back arched, as he seated his erection fully inside her.
Grace felt her muscles flexing, tightening around the width of his cock, and sending brilliant shards of exquisite pleasure racing through her. They raked her nerve endings, embedded her soul, and whipped through every cell of her body.
Words weren't needed now, only gasping cries of pleasure and the hard thrusts and acceptance of the heat burning through them. His cock shuttled inside her hard and deep in luscious strokes. Grace twisted in his grip, taking him, stroking him, tightening on the hard, heavy length of his cock, as she began to tremble in his arms.
She could feel her orgasm coming now. It was tightening in her womb, through her muscles. Her clit was distended, her nipples hard and aching, as they rake against his chest. She was on fire. Burning. Sweating, despite the water rolling over them, and exploding in his arms as she screamed out his name. His release followed. The thickening in the center of his cock spread across her sensitive pelvic floor muscle, causing it to spasm and contract, to milk tighter at his flesh, as a snarl of pleasure left his lips. The additional swelling didn't affect the entire length of his cock, just that one portion, the section that aligned just above the delicate vaginal muscle, effectively locking him inside her. The blast of his semen inside her triggered another orgasm, not as fierce or as hard. This one was gentler, easing through her rather than exploding over her nerve endings. As it ended, Grace found herself still pressed against the shower wall, as Matthias trembled against her. Cool water sprayed over their overheated bodies, washing away the perspiration that would have coated them, but doing little to still the heat that had raged through their bodies. Her hands stroked his shoulders, her lips pressed against his neck. Grace held him to her, absorbing the hard spasms that gripped his muscles with each spurt of his release. With each eruption, the hard swelling inside her throbbed, pulsed, and sent tremors of response racing through her. Like mini-orgasms clenching her womb. With each spasm, she tightened on that thick swelling, causing another pulse of his release to blast inside her. Causing him to shudder and groan in her arms.
"This this is ecstasy," he whispered at her ear. "This, Grace, is home." She felt tears fill her eyes. Home . Matthias finally had a home, and it was her. She buried her head against his broad shoulder and thanked God for the Breed that had found her.
"That, was worth waiting for," she panted minutes later, as the swelling of his cock receded and he slid out of her, groaning.
"I couldn't handle having to wait like that again," he informed her, his breathing hard and heavy, as he lifted his hand and touched the scar on her chest. "Never again, Grace." Her hand covered his. "I'll always be a part of you, Matthias. No matter what. Just as you'll always be a part of me."
He shook his head. "I took a job at the hotel. I'm head of security. You're assistant manager, and I have every assurance you'll be promoted to manager before much longer. We're going to live nice, sedate lives from now on. Do you understand me?"
He looked so arrogant. So dominant.
Grace grinned. "I still get to climb trees."
