Lycan Heat, S. Yule [best selling autobiographies TXT] 📗

of him. He wanted her to touch him, to feel comfortable that he would not do anything she wasn’t ready for. But, God, she was stretching his control.

When she touched him, his heart pounded, his chest ached, and everything in him demanded he claim her. She made him feel alive again, made some of the darkness he’d let engulf him over the years disappear. He’d seen so much sorrow, so many of his race needlessly killed because they’d gone rogue. Lycans were dangerously dwindling in numbers, and he feared they were fighting a losing battle trying to reign them in.

He already loved Sherry, but he wasn’t sure she’d believe him. It was too soon to make such declarations of undying devotion. Nevertheless, it was true, and would remain so until the day death came for him.

47

Lycan Heat

S. K. Yule

Her tiny fingers traveled dangerously close to the top of his jeans and he groaned.

“Please. You’re killing me. I need to touch you.” He barely got the words through his clenched teeth.

She smiled up at him and shook her head. Her silky hair bounced over her shoulders.

“You promised, Piers.”

“Yes. I did, but I’m no saint, Sherry.”

“You won’t renege on your word.” She hesitated for a moment before sitting up on her knees beside him.

She bent and placed her lips against his. He bunched the blanket he was lying on in his fists, praying he was able to keep his word and keep his hands to himself. Why did he have to be such a noble bastard? She nibbled at him, and he yearned to taste her. Just when he thought she’d deny him, she slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips. He greedily met her tongue with his, and when she gasped, he unashamedly took advantage of the situation and deepened the kiss.

She supported herself with a hand on each of his shoulders, but he barely noticed her weight and wished she’d press her lush breasts against his chest. Her nipples were hard, and he’d bet they were as pink as her T-shirt. He ached to cup her in his hands, but vowed to keep his promise to her even if it killed him, and it might. When she finally rubbed the turgid tips against him, his heart stuttered and the sheer ecstasy of the intimate contact sent a shudder through him.

If he didn’t stop her soon, he would break his promise. The need to touch her burned through him with such urgency, he shook with the effort it took to keep his hands off her.

He reluctantly broke the kiss.

“Sherry.” When she ignored him and continued to caress his body, he spoke louder.

“Sherry.”

“Yes?” Her eyes locked on his.

“Either tell me I can touch you, or kill me now. I can’t take any more.” Her tinkle of laughter in response settled low in his groin, and his cock grew impossibly hard and throbbed.

She bent and touched the tip of her tongue to his nipple, and he nearly came on the spot. He almost stopped breathing when she looked up at him. Her green eyes burned with the same carnal need clawing at him. She wanted him as bad as he wanted her. He knew 48

Lycan Heat

S. K. Yule

she wasn’t aware she was teasing him, and she wasn’t playing games with him. She was innocent, and had no idea of the seductive power she held over him.

She dipped her mouth back to him, and nipped him. “Sherry!”

She ignored his plea, and continued to torture him with her sweet mouth. She traced a wet path from his nipple down to his navel, leaving a trail of fire behind. He was clutching the blanket so hard, his knuckles were white. The wolf inside him howled, and the predator demanded its freedom to claim what was his. He wanted to scream in frustration at the unfulfilled need throbbing in his cock. He wanted to cry in joy and beg her to never stop touching him. He wanted to love her like she deserved.

“Please, Sherry. Tell me I can touch you, damn it.”

He groaned when her lips left his overheated skin. She sat up and stared at him for what seemed eternity. “I’m scared.” She eyed him from head to toe and back. “You’re so big.”

He sat up beside her and cupped her cheek in his palm. “I won’t lie to you. You drive me wild, and the last thing on my mind at this very moment is a gentle loving. I ache to feel you close around me as I sink into your hot, tight wetness. I want nothing more than to drive into you until we are both out of our minds with pleasure—until you have no doubt that you belong to me. But I swear to you that I won’t hurt you. I care for you, and I’ll take it slow.” Even if it kills me.

He yearned to give her the slow, thorough loving she deserved. No matter how they made love—quick and frenzied, slow and gentle—her pleasure would be his number one priority. However, he feared the blinding need clawing his insides would rip all rational thought from his brain and the wolf would take over. The wolf would never hurt his mate, but his main mission was to claim her, mark her as his own so that any other lycan would understand that she was taken. The wolf wanted to make it known that if another dared touch her, the consequence would be death.

The wolf wasn’t interested in slow and gentle. The wolf was interested in an animalistic, frenzied staking of property. Piers the man would never view her as property,