Page 82 of Hungry Like the Wolf

Just once last time, she thought. She was doomed to misery anyway. Why not grab at this chance with both hands? This last chance. She closed her eyes and ran her hands up his chest, over the larger muscles atop his shoulders, to wrap around his neck.

“Please feed me, Robbie,” she said, speaking the last syllable of his name into his own mouth as it collided with hers.

CHAPTER 34

He was kneeling on the floor between her thighs, but in one powerful move, she found herself off her chair and straddling his thighs, her own knees squeezing into his sides as he clutched her against him, as his mouth crashed into hers. He was wild, practically feral, as his mouth ravaged hers, tongue and teeth and lips clashing. Nadja wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed, holding him as close to her as she could as the taste of funnel cake flowed over her tongue and down her throat.

Her fingers and toes tingled from the sheer power of his desire. For me, she distantly thought as he sucked hard on her neck just below her ear.

“Fuck,” she gasped, mindlessly grinding against his pelvis, but because of the angle of their bodies and the muscles of his thighs, she couldn’t get the contact she wanted. She whined, a high, keening sound that had him freezing, his hands clutching her ass.

“What do you need?” he asked, his lips against her ear. It was a light enough contact to feel almost ticklish and she shuddered.

“I don’t know,” she panted, even though she damn well did.

She wanted to grind against his denim-covered cock until she screamed and he finished in his pants. Then she wanted to rip them off of him and swallow him so far down her throat that she could die from it. She wouldn’t care. She wanted him to fuck her so hard that she’d have rug burn on her back and carpet fibers in her hair and not be able to walk straight for twelve house And then she wanted to climb on top of him and tuck her face under his chin and sleep for days.

“Nadja,” Robbie said, still unmoving, as if he’d been spelled and immobilized. “What do you need?”

“I—”

“What does my mate need?”

“I’m not your mate. You can’t keep saying that. I can’t?—”

He kissed her. It wasn’t the ravenous, clumsy kiss of before. It was slow and deep and sweet, as if he were savoring her, like she was the last bite of ice cream clinging to a spoon and he was making sure to get every single bit of her. She sobbed into his mouth. Why was he so sweet? Why couldn’t he have kept on being rough and desperate? It would have been easier to keep him at arm’s length. But this? Kissing her like she was the most precious memory he’d ever have was torture.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed, breaking the kiss. They were both breathing hard, but where her eyes were wide, his were focused, locked on her.

“I’m going to ask again. What does my mate need?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head over and over again, as if she could dislodge the image of him staring at her, seeing her, with his long, unkempt hair and his beard that had burned her chapped lips.

“Okay then,” he said, shifting his hands under her thighs to lift her off. She wanted to protest. Every single cell in her body screamed that he couldn’t, that she was sorry, that she’d do anything if he’d just let her stay there, let her keep clinging to him like one of those fish that adhere onto the bellies of sharks.

“Shhh,” he said, lifting her back onto the wingback chair.

“Robbie,” she said, her voice hoarse and breaking.

“Shhh,” he said again, reaching for her foot, taking it onto his lap and carefully untying the shoelaces of her sneaker.

He pulled the shoe off and gently placed her foot back on the ground before reaching for her other foot, repeating the meticulous, slow unlacing and removal. He skimmed his hands up her shins, over her knees, across the distance of her thighs and up to the waistband of her jeans. He unbuttoned them and drew down the zipper.

“Up,” he said, pulling on the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her hips, and he drew them over her ass and down her legs with all the slow teasing of a burlesque dancer. She was entranced. His eyes were on his work, and she wished he would look at her face while he did this, while he stripped her bare, even while she was so grateful at the same time that he wasn’t looking at her face. He would see too much. He always had.

He pulled the jeans off of her legs, one at a time, before folding them carefully and placing them on the coffee table behind him. And then his hands were on her bare skin, skimming up the way they’d come until they were at her hips.

With gentle strength, he pulled her hips forward and then pushed her chest so that she was leaning back in the chair. He lifted one leg so that it was slung over the arm of the chair and then took the other and placed it over his shoulder, leaning in, pressing his nose to the damp gusset of her panties and inhaling deeply.

A growl reverberated in his chest, and Nadja swore she could feel it against her cunt. She sucked in a breath, the room redolent with the smell of funnel cake, with the taste of sugar and fat and decadence. Her legs trembled and her hands shook. Without lifting his head from the apex of her thighs, he reached and grabbed one of her hands, placing it on top of his head and pressing down hard until she closed her fingers around a handful of his hair. He groaned and licked a long stripe against her cotton-covered cunt.

“Robbie,” she moaned.

“Shhh,” he said again. She felt the heat from the word, from his mouth, against the damp fabric, against the very core of her.

He licked her again, pressing the cotton between his tongue and the tissue-thin skin of her pussy. She gripped his hair tightly, and he pressed in harder, rubbing his nose against her clit and making her gasp from the terrifying pleasure of it. He inhaled deeply again, nuzzling his face, his nose, his mouth against her cunt, the fabric barrier soaked now.

Robbie growled again, an animal sound that came from deep within him, a sound she’d heard for the first time tonight. It made her inner muscles clench against nothing and she whined.