Moonshine (3 page)

She planted her hands
on either side of his head, her hair tumbling around them as she
rubbed her body against his. "I can't hurt you, can I?"

"You can try."
He stretched up and bit her nipple.

Claire hissed in a
sharp breath, grabbed the edge of his shirt, and yanked it hard
enough to tear it. "I'd rather fuck you," she said, making
it obvious she thought the two were mutually exclusive.

Lars let her open his
shirt, then flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the floor. "Why
not both?"

She struggled to free
her hands—really struggling, instead of just giving him token
resistance—and moaned when he tightened his fingers around her
wrists. "Isn't that a little twisted?"

The moonshine still
raged through his system, making his blood boil. His cock hardened,
and he ground it against her. "Who gives a fuck? I like it, and
so do you."

Claire bucked her hips,
not hard enough to throw him off but with considerable force. Then
she twisted her head and bit his arm, her accompanying snarl one of
arousal instead of anger.

Lars hissed, first in
pain, then in laughter. "You can do better than that." He
bent his head and dragged his tongue up the side of her neck, all the
way to her ear. "Play with me."

The rush from the
moonshine faded more slowly than before, leaving Claire's heart
thudding in her chest as she rode the wild thrill of her instincts.

Play with me,
he
said. She
wanted
to—longed to see the proof of how hard she made him work every
time she looked at him. Something inside her whispered that no man
who was too weak to take her deserved her.

She turned her head and
bit his ear, meaning it more as a distraction than anything else. He
was too strong for her to be able to leverage her hands off the
ground, but she slid her right hand to the side as far as she could,
dragging him off center just enough for her to push with her left leg
and try to flip him off of her.

He shifted easily,
keeping her down, grinning at her wickedly. "Is that the best
you can do?" He bent his head and bit her nipple again, a little
harder this time. "Come on. Let her out to play."

Claire shivered and
made a soft noise of yearning at the thought of someone
wanting
the animal trapped inside her. She'd spent so much time playing human
for everyone around her that her instincts had dulled, as if she were
waking for the first time from a long sleep. She tried to roll again,
tangling one leg around his as she kicked out with the other one,
knocking both of their legs into the small table where his flask
rested.

He lowered his mouth to
her skin and drew his tongue along it in long, slow swipes. He left
fire in his wake, and her skin tingled.

She twisted and made
desperate sounds. The drag of his tongue across one nipple made her
cry out, and she finally managed to wrench one hand free of his
grasp. She clawed at his back, raking her fingers across it with
enough force that her short nails broke the skin.

He hissed and slid his
eyes shut. "You want to fuck me? Or do you want
me
to fuck
you
?"

She dug her fingers
into his ass, rocked her hips against his, and considered that
choice. "How would you fuck me?"

The answer seemed to
come easily, and was backed up by the heat in his eyes. "On the
floor. Bend you over the couch, take you that way. Maybe even spank
you a little."

Not even the drugs and
alcohol were enough to kill the shame at how desperately aroused his
words made her. He'd looked inside her and found everything she'd
ever wanted to hide, everything she’d struggled to pretend
wasn't there.

But she was tired of
playing human, even if she wasn't entirely sure of how to stop.
"Okay. Fuck me," she whispered, her words half command,
half plea. "Show me how to let her out."

He didn't undress her,
not really. He just tore open her jeans and turned her over the
couch. Her knees knocked against the floor hard enough to rattle her
teeth, and he dragged her jeans and underwear off her hips. "Last
chance to say
no
,
doll."

Nothing human was left
in the low, snarling noise she made as she rocked back against him,
searching instinctively for the hard length of his cock. She wanted
it more than she'd ever wanted anything, to feel him driving into
her. Claiming her,
mating
with her.

"Fuck me,"
she whispered again. "
Now
."

She heard the rasp of
his zipper, and the blunt head of his cock nudged the backs of her
thighs. She groaned in anticipation as he gripped her hips more
tightly to hold her still. Then he pushed inside her, and his hand
landed on the back of her hip with a resounding crack. She arched her
back with a low cry, the movement driving him deeper inside her.

His penetration felt so
right
,
so much more right than anything should. She snarled in triumph as
she shoved back against him.

Mine. Mine, mine,
mine.

He grunted as he thrust
into her and growled as he pulled away, a constant push-pull of
sounds tickling her ears. He didn't press his chest against her back,
just gripped her hips and jerked her back to meet every plunge. Then
one of his hands left her hip to wind in her hair, and he wrenched
her head back. "Beg me not to stop."

She bit her lips before
the words could come out, arching her neck with a soft growl of
defiance. "No."

His movements halted,
and he tightened his hold on her hair.

Claire whimpered and
shoved back against him, trying to move for both of them.

He stilled her with a
hand on her hip, his fingers gouging into her skin. "Beg for it,
and I'll fuck you."

She let out a
frustrated snarl and dug her fingers into the couch, unable to move
with one hand clutching her hip and the other wrapped in her hair.
"P-please—" She stuttered the word and groaned. "Oh,
God, please—please fuck me—"

He thrust again, harder
this time, almost hard enough to hurt. "Keep it up, and so will
I."

"Don't stop."
She ground out the words between satisfied groans, whispering them,
whimpering, eventually screaming, "Don't stop, don't—
fuck,
don't stop—"

A low laughed rumbled
out of his chest, and his pounding slowed, gentled, until he rocked
against her. "Don't stop what?"

Claire cried out in
frustration. She wanted more of his cock, she
needed
more. But he slowed his movements in and out until they were nothing
more than a gentle shifting back and forth.

"Lars—"
She pleaded with him and tried to move again, but his grip was firm.
"Please!"

"How do you want
my cock?"

"Harder—"
Her body burned with sensation, and she didn't think all of it was
from the moonshine. His scent wrapped around her, a mix of mechanic's
oil, tangy sweat, and the spicy scent of a mature male shifter. It
tantalized her as much as the possessive grip of his fingers on her
hip. She'd never been talkative during sex, but the words spilled
from her anyway. "Fuck me harder, make me come."

"You can come
without me fucking your pussy." As if to underscore his words,
his fingers drifted down her hip and circled her clit in a slick
caress. "Why do you want me to fuck you?"

Claire tried to lie to
him. "Because I'm high."

"Liar." He
pulled away, and his cock slipped out of her.

"Lars!" She
rocked back against him without thought, whimpering in protest.
"Fine, I need you. I fucking
need
you—God, don't
stop
—"

"No." His
voice was a quiet whisper, though she heard him plainly. His strong
hands lifted and turned her, setting her on the edge of the sofa. He
tugged her jeans down to her ankles and stared up at her as he pushed
her legs apart. "I'll do anything
but
fuck you."

She panted and wrapped
her hand around his cock, which was slick with the proof of just how
badly she needed him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been
this wet—never with any of the boring human men who’d
tried so hard to fulfill her while always falling short.

She squeezed her
fingers lightly around him and met his eyes. "Don't tell me you
don't want it."

He sucked in a breath
and released it with a low, growling curse. "I never said I
didn't want it." He couldn't have, not when his engorged shaft
jerked in her hand as she gripped him loosely. "But I want to
make damn sure you're
not
just high."

Claire ran her thumb
over the head of his cock in a teasing circle, her mouth going dry at
the thought of having him inside her again, hot and hard and pushing
her over the edge. "You're not going to fuck me until I'm
sober?"

"I'm not going to
fuck you until you stop pretending you can't help yourself."
Lars's eyes were dark with reproach. He tiptoed his fingers up the
inside of her thigh, then nudged two fingers past her outer lips and
into her heat.

She moaned and spread
her legs wide, pushing up against his hand. His fingers weren't as
good as his cock, but they were something. She didn't know if she
could
admit she wanted this; that she wanted wild, passionate fucking
instead of sweet, tender lovemaking.

Claire was a good girl,
and her parents had raised her to think good girls didn't like
getting fucked. Over and over her mother had tried to delicately
broach the subject, telling her the instinctive desires of a
shapeshifter were to be ignored and rejected. Moonlight, roses, and
candles, whispered words of love, and sex under the covers—that
was what her mother claimed a good girl should want.

Yet here she was,
sprawled on a strange man's couch with his fingers moving inside her
as she begged for his cock. She wanted it, wanted anything he'd do to
her, anything she could do to him. He was hot and strong and starting
to make her believe in the existence of the legendary g-spot as he
curled his fingers inside her and sent fire trembling along her
nerves.

Maybe good girls
did
like to fuck. Or maybe she just wasn't as good as she thought.

Blood pounded in Lars’
ears, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back behind Claire and
fuck her senseless. Her pussy had gone from damp to wet, and he slid
a third finger inside her with ease. She arched her back, hissing,
and he raised his thumb to work her clit.

He wanted to fuck her,
to make her come and find his own release in the hot, clenching
depths of her body, but he couldn't, not until he knew she wouldn't
be sorry when she woke up in his bed. That meant he needed to stop.

He ground his teeth and
jerked his hand away, ignoring her dismayed protest. His eyes locked
on hers as he raised his fingers and sucked them into his mouth. When
he'd licked them clean, he grinned at her, ignoring the almost
unbearable throbbing in his cock.

"Talk."

She snarled at him, and
it was obvious she didn't have a submissive bone in her body. Her
eyes flashed with heat and a power she still wore a little awkwardly.
She was young, but when she grew into that power, she'd bring
shapeshifter men to their knees. Most of the female coyotes in town
were submissive, rolling over and letting him do whatever he wanted
when they shared his bed.

But not Claire. She
pressed her lips together in defiance and slid her hand down her
body, teasing at her clit for a moment before pushing two fingers
inside herself. She fucked herself with her own hand, filling the air
with the scent of her desire and the moans of her approaching climax.