Page 25 of Deception

More, his bear agreed.

He plundered her mouth and tugged her body closer to the table’s edge. Then he practically kissed her through the table until her moans filled his ears. She clutched him the whole time, telling him to keep going, not to hold back.

And there was no holding back now, anyway. Not with his bear firmly in control. He nibbled his way down her neck and chest until he was gorging on her right breast, scooping the flesh closer, flicking his tongue over her tight little nipple. It hardened immediately and stood erect in his mouth as he laved his tongue over it again and again.

“Drew,” she moaned, arching into his touch.

His heart pounded in his chest. His brain sent a thousand mixed messages, ordering him to touch her in a thousand different ways at once. More of her soft breasts. More of the flat expanse of her abdomen. He found himself licking her belly button without even remembering how he got there. He bobbed back up, suckling from her breast, then dipped down, spreading her legs with his hands.

“Drew,” she cried, guiding his head lower.

He spread her with his thumbs. Rested his head against her inner thigh and let his chin scrub a path all the way to her core, where he inhaled her scent, then flicked his tongue.

She tasted like honey. Like berries, ripe for the picking. Like home. He got drunk on that taste and sucked it up — desperately, like a bear feasting at the onset of fall, because who knew what the future would hold.

Summer jolted against him, and her hands fluttered over his shoulders, begging him to go on.

“Yes. Please, yes,” she murmured again and again.

So he licked. Sucked. Practically drank — and drank and drank, like a goddamn castaway in the desert. Like a knight with the Holy Grail. He consumed her like no man had ever consumed a woman before.

He wasn’t even aware of his own movements, only her responses. The buck of her hips. The pressure of her hands. The quiver of her skin. When he drove his fingers deep, she sucked in a shaky breath. And when his lips zeroed in on the nub of her clit, she cried out desperately. Her whole body writhed and danced as he gulped and feasted until he was drunk and gorged. Drunk on his pleasure and on hers.

My mate likes this. Loves this,his bear chuckled inside.

He could tell from the play of her fingers over his back, the tight grip of her thighs around his head. She was arched so far back, he could scoop both hands around her ass and keep her close, like a greedy man holding a platter up to his mouth.

“Please,” she begged. “I’m so close.”

Any other woman would have been limp and exhausted by then, but Summer hung on and on, denying herself release as if she could sense how much more he wanted to learn about her.

He teased her, traveling from her sweet core to her pink, peaked nipples and back again until her belly was red with scrub marks from his beard. He didn’t just want to make her feel good. He wanted to launch her straight off the earth. So he explored, discovering what moved her, what shook her, and what brought her to the edge of joyous tears. He memorized all the combinations, piece by delicious piece, until he was finally ready to put it all together and let her fly.

“Drew,” she gasped, and her voice shot higher.

Yeah, she was close, all right.

He slipped two fingers deep inside her and curled them against a spot that made her leap halfway out of her skin, then massaged her clit with his tongue. Harder, faster — the way her body demanded. And when he caught the nub of it between his lips—

“Drew,” she moaned, exploding beneath him.

He hung on, lapping up her juices, gripping her body, listening to the sounds she made. Just when he thought she might waft back down from her high, he pushed in again with his fingers and tongue to wring a second orgasm out of her, right on the heels of the first. And when she came out of that one, panting and limp and murmuring incoherently, he laid his head on her belly and held her tight.

My woman,his bear growled, ridiculously pleased with himself.My mate.

His highly satisfied mate. He could hear it in her dreamy sigh, feel it in her needy touch. Yes, his cock was aching for its own release, but that could wait. The world could wait, damn it. He wrapped his arms around her, closed his eyes, and breathed her in.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

“Beautiful,” she echoed in a dreamy, faraway voice.

He smiled into her stomach, drew a heart with a finger, and tried not to get carried away with thoughts of the future. This was just one night. One little night.

A night he would draw out forever if he could.

Chapter Seven

“Drew.” Summer slid her tongue over her lips, savoring the taste of him. She’d been flying through the stratosphere, barely able to speak after the high he’d licked her into. She paused for a quick check, just in case. Were her lips working again? Could she produce more than a moan or a cry?

---