Loner (Norseton Wolves #2) Read Online Free

can smell it. I may only be half-wolf, but my sense of smell works just as good as yours. You know I’m ripe for you.”
    “You want me to—”
    She grabbed his hair and yanked him close to her lips. “Fuck me, or get off of me. Which is it going to be?”
    He loosened her fingers from his hair and moved back quickly to work her sandals off and pull her jeans down her legs. Her panties were a couple of barely-there strings, attached to a little sliver of lace between her legs, and then they were gone next, the elastic at the sides snapping before he tossed the garment onto the floor.
    “ Red ,” he said as he slipped his hand between her thighs. Her pussy was as wet as her fertile scent had suggested, and the small strip of hair just over her clit confirmed that her coloring was all natural.
    “You’ll have to get used to it.” There was a tart snap to her voice that he really didn’t understand, but then again, he didn’t understand most things about women.
    He stood and took off his boots and pants, leaving them in the pile along with hers, and settled between her spread legs.
    She batted his shirt out of the way of his cock, and drew in some air between clenched teeth. “Take off your socks.”
    “Oh.” No reason to act completely desperate, even if he was. He flung his socks toward the clothing pile next, and in one easy movement, flipped her onto her belly and pulled her hips back. He nudged his cock head right against her tight entrance, but there was no give.
    With a sigh, she reached between her legs and gripped his shaft hard, pointing him where he needed to go.
    His eyes rolled back into his head as he settled into her heat, and her hand fell away. Gods, so good. He renewed his grip on her hips, and after a few trial thrusts, increased his speed until he fucked faster than his swinging balls could catch the momentum of. The sounds they made became a symphony of skin slapping skin—his grunts, and her gasps and pants—each one of her little noises of pleasure spurring him on even more.
    She was so tight, and the view of her body from where he was—narrow waist and the perfect globes of her ass that his pelvis kept bumping—felt like perfection. Each forceful bump made her supple flesh jiggle, and he stared, hypnotized as he landed his dick into her again and again, hardly noticing her plaintive pleas for release, or even how wet she was getting. Her own cream seeped down her thighs, a surplus for him to taste and lick up—but later. She wanted to come, and he could make her. He was good at that.
    He pushed her shoulders down against the sofa cushion and leaned over her, pressing his hands to either side of her back. She peered up at him through her one visible eye, and although her mouth was telling him to make her come, her expression didn’t seem to back it up.
    “I can ,” he assured. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and thrust into her from a more acute angle. So tight.
    “Do it,” she said tartly, and immediately followed it with a whispered, “now .”
    “Anything you want.”
    He fucked her so hard now that she had to press her palms to the armrest to keep from sliding forward. She met each of his thrusts, growling as he pounded her deep, again and again, until finally, she clamped down hard around his shaft, and shouted, “Fuck!”
    And she must have climaxed, because she was wetter and tighter then, and her legs had gone all wobbly, and then fuck—he came, too, right inside her—his mate.
    For a moment, they didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Then she shifted beneath him and said, with her face pressed to the slipcover, “You’re heavy.”
    “Sorry.” Somewhat sheepishly, he eased off her a bit and slid his dick out, only to brush the slick head between her soft cheeks.
    She made some noise that was half a hiss and half a growl as he pressed against her unexplored entrance. Wriggling her ass, she scooted away from him. “You are not putting that there.”
    “Wasn’t