The Worlds of Terri Pray

The highs and lows of chasing a writing dream. From fantasy to erotica and beyond as seen through the eyes of Terri Pray.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Scratching Post - Loose Id


“What? You’d pick a human over one of your kind?” He frowned, confusion flashing across his intense gaze, his cock thickening against his thigh.
“At least a human male normally tells me their name before they announce that they want to jump my bones.”
“Theron.”
“What?”
“My name is Theron Grave.” He flashed a grin and offered a mocking, sweeping bow. “Are you going to return the favor and bless me with your name, gracious one?”
“Emmie Byron, and if you keep that nonsense up, you’ll remember me as the woman who tore your nuts off and made them into a necklace.” She bared her teeth at him, fingers flexing, her nails itching with the need to shift into claws. Serve him right if she did attack him. Maybe then he would think twice before assuming he was irresistible, though she doubted it.
“Ah, so I stumbled on a little hellcat who needs taming?” Theron took another step forward. “Good. I’m in the mood for a little rough-and-tumble.”
Bastard!
“Taming?” She wanted to smack him into the middle of next week. What kind of name was Theron, anyway? Not American. It almost sounded Greek. Her gaze narrowed on him. With his dark hair and the shape of his nose, he might have almost passed for someone from the Mediterranean, but his eyes? They reminded her of something else. The sea? No, a storm-tossed sky; his eyes were almost the same color as the clouds before a tornado launched its devastation across the land.
Wild and dangerous, someone she would be better staying the hell away from. Except that would mean running away and she’d promised herself that wasn’t going to happen again. She had to face him, face this fear, before it grew out of control.
“Yes, you need taming. You need bringing back into line, and that will take time spent with the right male. If only a very short time.” The tip of his tongue slipped out from between his lips, tracing a slow line over his bottom lip. “You can’t deny what you’re feeling right now. I can see the heat playing through your body, taste it on the air. You’re creaming. Just standing there, looking at me, your body is preparing itself for me.”
She opened her mouth to protest, only to shut it again. Her body did feel warm. Her nipples ached for his touch; her inner walls rippled with the need to clench down on a cock. No. Not just a cock. His cock. Emmie shifted her weight and took a half step back from him. “I’m a grown woman, not some cub. I know what my body is doing. But it doesn’t mean that I’m about to give in to its demands. I’m not some teenager on her first cycle ‑‑ you’re not going to…”
“To what?” Theron advanced on her, closing the gap between them, grasping her upper arms. “To do this?” He leaned closer, claiming her lips fully.
Emmie groaned, her lips parting beneath his touch. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroking within. She tensed, instinct screaming at her to move away, to break the kiss, but her body had other ideas. She arched under his kiss, her tongue dancing with his; every inch of her body screamed at her to press closer to him, to be with him no matter what. But she knew the danger.
A male shifter. Arrogant, forceful, they wanted to take control of the women they were with. Emmie did not want that. She had spent her life being independent. Hunting. Killing only when she needed to. Finding ways to keep the beast under control. The animal instincts that had pushed at her control throughout her life. Yet, she had beaten them back, built levels of self-control in place. She had refused to let them destroy her. Now. Now all of that vanished under the pleasure of his kiss.
Spasms of hunger and need played a wicked path through her body as she surrendered to his kiss. Tingles of delight shimmered along her belly, they teased across her breasts, even across her buttocks, and still she wanted more. She groaned, closing her eyes as she felt his grip ease on her arms.
She reached up, wrapping her arms about his neck, her tongue dancing with his. Emmie pushed up onto her toes, her nipples scraping against his chest. A low moan of pleasure slipped free of their joined lips, his cock hardening further, throbbing against her legs. All it would have taken was one push, and she would have been on her back, thighs parted, hips lifted, waiting for him to thrust into her hungry core.
It would be so easy to surrender to her desires and welcome his touch. Even his scent spoke of lust, begging her to stay within his arms for a moment longer.
Reason screamed a warning in the back of her mind.
Her jaw clenched as she yanked her hands down from his neck and thrust herself out of his grasp. “Get away from me!”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem a moment ago, sweet one.” He purred, but this time he didn’t follow her across the clearing.

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