Psy & Changelings 10 - Kiss of Snow

anger. It was more sensual, deeper . . . intimate. Thinking back to what she’d been doing, she realized she’d grazed one flat male nipple with her nail.
    So she did it again.
    Making that same rumbling sound, he tugged her down with the grip he had in her hair, and took her mouth again, his lips a possessive brand. She found herself on her back, with him heavy between her thighs a second later. When she pushed at his shoulders, he said, “You can still touch.” A light kiss on the corner of her lips, his stubbled jaw scraping across achingly sensitive flesh.
    “Not if you keep doing that.” It was beyond impossible to concentrate with him so big and warm and aroused above her. “Hawke.”
    Something in Sienna’s voice made Hawke’s wolf go motionless. Bracing himself with his forearms on either side of her head, he looked into eyes of inky black. “You need a break?” He hadn’t forgotten who and what she was, the demands her gift made on her.
    Her hands smoothed down his chest.
    It took teeth-gritting control not to order her to stroke those hands over the hard ridge of his cock. “Baby, that’s not going to make me behave.”
    “You have to,” she said, “because it’s my turn. I need to touch you.”
    A cool statement, but he heard the very real frustration behind it. As evidenced by the last time they’d been together, frustration in bed could be fun—but not the kind he heard in her voice. Need stripped bare, the same raw-touch hunger that had had him in its claws before he’d allowed himself to indulge in her. She was right. It was her turn.
    So he locked his muscles, dropped his head, hair falling around his face, and let her pet him. Remaining quiescent under her exploration was torture, hungry as he was to claim her. Yet the wolf grit its teeth along with the human, as if aware that this woman, while strong enough to survive a childhood that would’ve broken most, was also deeply vulnerable in certain ways.
    “You’re so beautiful.” A husky murmur that was a rough stroke across his taut flesh. “Your chest hair, it’s so smooth, so fine. Like the thinnest of pelts.”
    It was also highly sensitive. “Use your mouth,” he found himself demanding as the leash slipped.
    But Sienna didn’t shy. “Oh, yes. I want to do that.” While he was still trying to quiet his primal response at the unhidden delight of her response, she wiggled down a fraction and placed a hot, uninhibited kiss right above his left nipple. He bit back a very blue word, a sheen of sweat coating his entire body. As he knew, Sienna learned fast. Her next kiss included the scrape of teeth.
    Hawke’s growl raised every hair on Sienna’s body. Shivering, she licked at him, taking the salt and heat of him inside her. Part of her couldn’t believe she had her hands on him at last, that she was free to stroke and taste as she wanted. The rest of her wanted to gorge, her legs clenching around the sensual intrusion of the big body between her thighs.
    It would be easier to reach all of him if she pushed him to his back, but first, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d go, and second, being surrounded by him was . . . beyond pleasure. His thighs pushed against the insides of hers as the thick weight of his erection pressed through his jeans, just brushing against her. His arms were tense with muscle on either side of her, his chest above her, his hair falling sexily around his face as he watched her with a predator’s focus. One who wanted to bite.
    She tried to reach his lips, fell short. “Kiss me.”
    Leaning down without a word, he ran his lips across hers. It was a tease, made her attempt to rise toward him once more.
    “Nu-huh.” He shook his head. “Be good.”
    Trembling, she lay back down.
    Her reward was a suckling kiss, teeth closing over her lower lip, a languid release that made things low in her stretch tight. “I hope you like teeth,” he said in that rough, deep voice that made her want to do infinitely wicked things.
    “I like yours.”
    He settled himself more heavily on her. She felt at once caged and as if she would fly into a million pieces with the slightest touch. Panic fluttered in her throat, the shock of a woman who’d grown up in a prison of discipline and darkness. “Hawke.”
    “Shh.” Kisses on her cheekbone, his forearm bracketing her head as he used his free hand to play with strands of her hair. Another kiss, this one on her nose. “We’ve got all night.” A whisper of a