Page 79 of Fire Dancer
My wolf howled in glee, and my teeth ached as my wild side climbed closer to the surface. Then I caught her hand, stopping her before my hips started pumping. I’d had to settle for DIYhand jobs over the years, but I could do better now. Much, much better.
“Bed,” I grunted, kicking my jeans away.
“Shirt,” Pippa insisted, continuing our one-syllable conversation. “Now.”
She helped me get it off, not even teasing this time. Well, barely. She did stop long enough to circle, then tweak my nipple. Tiny bolts of lightning zipped down to my toes and, um…other important places.
“Bed. Room,” I growled in caveman talk.
Pippa led the way past the couch, past the bathroom, and down the two-story central “hall” of the barn. Bits of hay poked out from the rafters overhead, where more fairy lights twinkled. Then Pippa turned right, into the stall she’d converted into a bedroom.
Again, “converted” was putting it loosely. She’d scrubbed the place and rolled out an old rug, but we were still surrounded by rungs where previous occupants had rubbed noses with their equine neighbors.
Now, it was just the two of us, and one…two…three flickering candles.
The number increased with every step Pippa took. If I hadn’t been otherwise occupied, I might have glanced around in awe. That had never happened before. On the other hand, pyromancers were known to be late bloomers. And a good thing, too. I didn’t want to imagine an angsty, frustrated teenager who could ignite fires — with or without consciously intending to. Half the schools in the country would be burned down, along with a lot of orthodontic clinics.
In any case, I wasn’t up to imagining much at that moment. I didn’t have to, especially once I laid my true love out on the big mattress and admired her for a while.
She held out a hand impatiently, but I shook my head. Way back when, Pippa used to deride people who didn’t admire a sunset or beautiful vista with anything but a quick glance or a single snapshot. I intended to soak in this stunning view for a while.
Her lips quirked, and she slid her hands to her breasts. “What about this view?”
Again, the mind reading. Not that I objected.
“I like, but…”
I tested her, picturing a different place.
Her eyes sparkled, and she slid a hand lower. Lower…
My throat bobbed, and I forgot to breathe for the next minute or so. I definitely sucked in a huge lungful of air, however, when Pippa spread her legs and slid a finger inside, then circled around.
Her eyes glazed, though she kept them fixed firmly on me. Reading me like a book, no doubt — or a dirty magazine. Whatever I imagined, she did, from probing deeper to adding a second finger to—
I pounced, and we collided in a deep, possessive kiss.
You are mine,my wolf howled over and over.
Always have been,I heard her mental reply.Always will be.
I moved over her, driven by the instinct to mark and claim my territory. I scrubbed my stubble over the soft flesh of her breast, then touched, kissed, and stroked every inch of her.
“Oh…”
Her groan took on an achy note, telling me I was pushing her limits.
Don’t you dare stop,she warned in a mental growl.
Good to know I wasn’t the only one desperate for more.
Her mouth consumed mine. The nails of her left hand scraped my back. Her legs wound around mine, which put us in the perfect position to—
“Yes,” she moaned as I slid home.
Inside, my wolf howled. Outside, my mouth hung open, echoing the sentiment. Then I sucked in a deep breath and began to move.
Earlier, I’d caught Pippa’s thought about how amateurish our lovemaking had been way back when. Now, I was determined to remind her how far we’d come since then. Every one of my thrusts was smooth, hard, and absolutely, positively on target.