Page 72 of Wishing for a Werewolf
“I can’t help myself if you run.” A groan tears from his chest, the front of his pants tented with obvious arousal. “If you run, I can’t resist—I must chase, especially in this form.”
Oh! Primal chase, just like the book… I swallow, my mouth going dry in the same instant my panties drown in wetness. God, I effing want him, and I want him as a werewolf.
I want him to chase me, catch me, take me to the ground…
The heat of his gaze burns away any second guessing. Panting with excitement, I spin and run between the buildings, heading for the woods just beyond.
Rune growls once, and that’s all I hear over the pounding of my feet against the leaf-covered ground and the even louder pounding of my racing heart.
The full moon hangs huge overhead, lighting the way as I race along a faint trail, moving as fast as I can. Rune could have caught me by now, but he doesn’t. He draws out the chase, which only makes me more excited. Will it be now… or just past that tree… or maybe now? The tension ratchets higher with every second, the uncertainty driving me wild until I feel like I’ll come out of my skin if he doesn’t catch me, touch me…
He’s so quiet in the woods that I chance a glance back over my shoulder to find him pacing right behind me, hiseyes glowing gold with reflected moonlight. He’s shirtless and barefoot, his inky fur blending into the darkness of the night and making him hard to see.
I gasp with excitement and put on another burst of speed, my heart pounding, my panties soaked, the hair on the back of my neck prickling with awareness of the wolf closing in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Rune
Autumn running from me snaps the last thread of my control. I bolt after her, torn by conflicting desires. The need to catch her immediately, to carry her to the ground and bury myself in her sweet depths…
And the need to draw out the chase until we both hum with desire, our hearts pounding, every nerve on fire with heightened sensation.
She runs before me, her red hair and cape streaming backward, twin sheets of fire calling me to her, a moth to her flame.
My fire.
Mine.
Her arousal perfumes the air, making me want to howl at the full moon overhead. Yet I remain quiet, a predator hunting the sweetest of prey.
As the woods close around us, a wild feeling grows in me, and my clothes start to constrict. I pause long enough to tear off my boots, my werewolf feet better in the forest than any shoe. Catching up to her easily, I yank the shirt over my head, tossing it aside.
She looks back, her beautiful face flashing in the moonlight, her red lips parted with need.
My claws shred the front of my pants, destroying them down to mid-thigh. Then I fist the fabric and rip it away, freeing my body to the forest and the night, my heavy cock bouncing with every stride.
Autumn’s steps start to slow. My fire is reaching the end of her human endurance. She breaks through a stand of trees to enter a familiar clearing. The Wishing Well, the place where this all started.
I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect spot.
She shrieks as I tackle her from behind. Scooping her into the protection of my arms, I spin so my shoulder plows into the ground, taking the brunt of the fall. Then I’m on her, over her, throwing her cloak to the side.
I bow my body over hers to growl in her ear, “If you run, my fire, know I will always chase… and catch.”
She sobs with need as my claws tangle in her fire hair, pulling it aside so I can nip at her neck. Autumn shivers as my fangs scrape her delicate skin, and I soothe it with a lick, the sweet and spicy taste of her coating my tongue and making my erection jump.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” I use the hand buried in her hair to pull her up onto her knees. Then I bring one of her hands around to feel the swelling at the base of my cock.
“Your knot!” she gasps. “But you haven’t come yet, have you?”
“This isn’t my full knot.” Even though I’ve never had sex in my werewolf form, I can feel the ache in the base of my cock, a feeling of promise waiting to swell even larger. There are other differences as well. My erection’s longer than that of my fae form, the color different, black at the base, shading to brilliant red at the tip.
Her hot little fingers trace over it, and her breath hitches. “So that’s… that’s going to be in me the whole time we have sex?”
“Yes.”
A fresh wave of her arousal perfumes the air.
