I can work with this.
“You know,” I whisper breathlessly as I reach down and yank the pants off one ankle at a time. “These things are holding me up anyway.” I toss them at his frozen form with a baiting laugh before booking it down the stairs.
A gust of wind.
A gust of wind is my only warning before I’m slammed into the wall beside the stairs, Gannon’s hot hands are underneath my thighs, his body sliding between my legs. His eyes blaze with a need more intense than I’ve ever seen before, and his mouth descends on mine in a punishing, wild kiss.
I give as good as he does and we savagely fight for control. I yank on his hair and he retaliates by driving his hardness further into me, rubbing up and down against my core until I’m caught up in that sensation—only for him to take it away.
Rude!
Scraping my nails down his back, I nip punishingly at his lips. He thinks he has the upper hand, but we can’t have that now, can we?
His palms clutch my ass and his fingers drift closer to the center of it—
I gasp and stiffen, pulling away from him and staring down the stairs toward the front door with wide, startled eyes.
Immediately, Gannon pulls away, letting me down as he turns to face the threat I’m staring at.
Only—there is no threat.
Sucker.
I dart past him with a banshee’s laugh, a screech of victory that doesn’t become a howl only because I need all that oxygen to escape. But inside, I’m spinning like a pinwheel, sparkling like a firework, bursting apart like a pi?ata full of delicious candy—my entire being is full of buoyant joy.
“Not cool, kitten,” he grumps, somewhat disbelieving, somewhat annoyed as I leap off the bottom of the stairs and dart for the kitchen.
“You didn’t think I’d give up that easily, did you?” I tell him with a waggle of my brows as I round an island and put a protective barrier between us.
He takes the stairs slowly, one at a time, allowing my eyes to appreciate his tall form and the very obvious bulge in his pants. “When I catch you—”
“If you catch me,” I challenge.
Wind again. But this time I’m expecting it. I duck and a shrill squeal of pure delight escapes my mouth as I pop back up and pump my arms as I race across the living room.
One step, I’m running for the back sliders, making plans for a snowball fight the likes of which Gannon has never seen before. The next, I’m in the air, plucked up mid-stride like I’m not some formidable beast but a house pet.
I have only a millisecond to feel surprised before he’s spinning me to face him and then dipping me like a dancer over the back of the couch. I’m upside down, my head resting against the buttery suede of the seat, my spine compressed against the back cushions, and my legs are dangling over the back.
Gannon quickly pushes my thighs apart and steps between them. Then, with an evil grin that makes my insides clench, he grabs my wrists and pulls me until I’m sitting up on the back of the couch, and all the blood that was rushing into my head starts rushing back down to the rest of my body. He draws closer until we’re nose to nose.
I’m abuzz, my nipples are tight, and I’m thirsty for Gannon’s lips—ready to drink down every kiss.
“Did you even try to outrun me?” he murmurs, a cocky smirk curling up one side of his mouth, making it clear what he thinks of my efforts.
“Pretty sure the point was never to get away,” I respond, mimicking his air of superiority and loving the brazen grin that breaks across his face as a result.
“You wanted the big bad wolf to catch you?”
That should be cheesy as hell, but his hands are releasing my wrists and sliding up my bare thighs, making my nerves scream. So I play along. “I want him to huff and puff and then blow me until I come.”
“Fuck.” Gannon surges forward, and I can feel every glorious inch of him press against me. I’m so wet that I wonder if he can feel it through his pants, but I don’t bother asking, because he’s pushing Perth’s shirt up from my waist, planting his hands on each of my knees, and licking his lips as he stares down at me.
His eyes dilate and I can smell our scents combining, our lusts battling to control the very air. “I’m not stopping until you scream for mercy,” he promises.
Before I can so much as open my mouth to snark something in return, Gannon pushes me back until I’m ass over tits again, and then he bends down and devours me.
My shoulders bracing me on the seat of the couch, my hair splayed out like a mermaid around me, I stare up at him as his tongue darts out and swipes up my seam, parting me like his only mission in life is to get to my center. I gasp as he buries his face in my pussy, lapping at me until he reaches my clit and sucks it into his mouth. My moan is almost guttural, the heat of his touch like a brand across my skin. I close my eyes, allowing myself to sink into the tantalizing sensations as he shows me why shifters do it better.
I don’t know if it’s my heightened senses or if Gannon just has a gift, but each drag and swirl of his tongue is more potent than anything I’ve ever felt before. Every lick, suck, and nibble makes my muscles clench until I’m biting my lip and fighting the need to beg. It’s too damn early for that.
He trawls his fingertips down from my knees and across the softer skin of my inner thighs. Pushing my legs further apart, he strokes back and forth gently, tormenting me with the possibility of those fingers getting closer. His touches erode my mind, creating sinkholes that swallow my thoughts and make me quake.
Fuck yes!
This man definitely does not have a virgin tongue, and I thank my lucky stars for that as I reach up and latch onto his hair, pulling his mouth tighter against me, demanding everything he’s got.
He growls when I try to take control, nipping each of my lips in rebuke. But I ignore the censure, because Gannon and I seem to thrive on challenging one another. I simply tighten my grip and shove his face exactly where I want it.
I buck and grind against him, planting my feet on the back of the couch, arching my back into bridge pose as I steal control, wresting my orgasm away from him and claiming it as my own.
His teeth are sharper this time when he nips me, but little does he know, I like it rough. The tiny edge of pain only makes me grit my teeth and erupt into an encouraging mewl before twisting and wrenching his hair as pleasure overtakes me.
When my shaking has subsided and I’ve loosened my death grip, he pulls back and mumbles, “The kitten has claws. My turn,” he challenges, and then he grabs my ass and picks me up like I weigh less than the throw pillow in the corner of the sofa. He scoops me up so that we’re face to face and carries me around the couch, this time laying me down normally—lengthwise—down the seat. He crawls on top of me, kissing me mercilessly.
“Taste how wet I’ve made you?”
I can only murmur in response because his lips and tongue become so all-consuming. When he roughly wrenches away from me and sits up, I fully expect him to undress and demand that it’s my turn to blow him until he comes.
And, yes, please.
But he doesn’t. Gannon scoots back down the couch and dives for my pussy again like he’s starving. Like he can’t get enough. He scoops my hips into his iron grip, and this time, he’s rougher in all the best ways. Immediately, his mouth suctions so tightly against my pussy that I’m gasping—close to the edge.