Page 57 of Ice Devil

“Careful, babe. You’re not in charge.”

She laughed in response while gyrating against me while squeezing her knees. We rocked together with so much force breathing was difficult.

And forget about the cheap art on the wall. The picture framed clanged several times, the hard thudding in rhythm with my dick pounding into her.

Then it fell off the wall, smashing into the dresser and onto the floor.

We both stopped moving, gasping for breath as we turned our heads. Then very slowly, we looked at each other again, bursting into laughter again. Being with her was joyful as fuck.

As well as exactly what this growing boy needed.

So I fucked her even harder, enjoying every ragged moan and primal purr her kitty was offering while getting my rocks off. What continued to amaze me was how close to her I felt. In some ways, it seemed as if I’d known her my entire life.

Or as if fate had brought us together. No, that was silly. I didn’t believe in such nonsense yet here we were, my dick fitting inside her sweet pussy perfectly. The intensity of how I felt about her was undeniable, but also disturbing as hell.

Mating.

It didn’t matter how much the Kendrick kids had tried to ignore the parent-kid conversation about the differences in shifters and humans, facts ruled over fiction. Or ignorance. Wolves needed mates. Okay, so I’d heard all the pure bloodline garbage ad nauseam. Only those with pure bloodlines supposedly couldn’t function without finding their mate.

Until a year before, I’d laughed at the thought altogether. Until my brother had acted like some wild animal around Georgia.

Sloane raked her nails down my back while squeezing her pussy muscles and I pulled her away from the wall, slamming her into the edge of the dresser.

Her laugh filtered all around me. “Give me all you’ve got, big boy.” Her eyes were glassy, partially dilated and I could feel my wolf close to the surface. If she’d noticed, there was no indication of terror.

I positioned her butt on the dresser, using my chest to push her back until she planted her hands on the surface and spread her luscious long legs wide open for me.

“Women are always in charge,” she cooed. “They’re just too hardheaded to admit defeat.”

I pulled out, plunging into her again. The mirror rattled. “Does that mean this is all about a power exchange?”

When she wrapped her legs around my thighs, using them to pull me as tightly against her as humanly possible, my filthy urges exploded.

“No,” she corrected. “This means you’re learning how powerful I can be.”

While her passion was undeniable in every action taken, every emotion she allowed exposed, there was a deep sadness to her. In truth, hers mirrored my own.

An emptiness.

Okay, what in the hell was wrong with me? I had the most beautiful woman in the entire world spread wide open for me and I was debating the concept of shifter mating? Maybe I’d been knocked in the head one too many times with a hockey puck.

“Then I guess I’ll need to teach you a lesson or two in understanding urges.”

“Urges? Yes, I do have them. Lots of sinful, delicious urges that could even make you blush. Go right ahead. I’d like to see you try.”

I pulled out, pounding into her tight channel a few more times before an idea wrinkled my brain. With one arm wrapped around her waist, I lifted her off the dresser, taking long strides toward our new destination.

When the cooler outside air hit our heated bodies, she sucked in her breath. However, I doubted her moan was from any frigid temperatures, but from potentially creating a spectacle. Yes, we were still wearing makeup on our faces, but there was always a chance people could figure out who we were.

Did that mean we were a couple?

Around her and with every mischievous thought came a wide grin that never left my face.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She tried in vain to prevent us from moving onto the balcony, her long fingers managing to grab the doorjamb.

I stopped long enough to tilt and shake my head. “How quickly you seem to forget you’re not in charge.”

“This is my room.”