WithHerHunger by Lorie O'Clare

T-shirt from his
powerfully muscular body. Everything bulged and flexed as Luther brought his
shirt over his head and stripped it away from his body. She stared at his
ripped muscles underneath tan, taut flesh. Small puckers and several long scars
stretched across his torso. Her male wasn’t trying to be fierce and demanding
of her, he was fierce and demanding.
    When he sat on the end of her couch and pulled off his
boots, Mariah hopped up to lean on her knees next to him. She ran her finger
over the longest of his scars that ran from his shoulder down across his chest
at an angle.
    “How long have you been on your own?” she asked, noting the
scar was fairly old.
    “Since I was a cub,” he said, although his voice was
relaxed, indifferent to the years he fought simply to survive and find his next
kill.
    She remembered him and the other two Cariboo males killing
and feeding off the elk in the mountains. Mariah had witnessed a small peek
into his life prior to running here to Prince George.
    “Was your pack burned out too?” she asked.
    Luther stood, unzipped his jeans then slid them down his
legs.
    “Yes.”
    Mariah had forgotten the question. She stared at his large,
long, thick cock and how incredibly hard it was. When she reached out and
touched him, he flinched, sucked in a breath. She looked up at him.
    “Don’t stop.” His words were so garbled with need and the
change threatening his own body he was hard to understand.
    Mariah stared up at him as she wrapped her fingers around
the thickness of his shaft. Power soared through her when his eyes rolled back
in his head and he fisted his hands on either side of his body. Luther was
fighting for control, giving her what she wanted. And she wanted to explore this
male she’d dreamed about every night for so many nights now. She had smelled
him again and again during their run. Luther had kept a close watch on her,
ready to betray his presence among lunewulf and attack to the death any
male who had managed the upper paw with her. Had he smelled the truth in her
words when she’d told him she could take care of herself? Did he understand how
it meant she wanted him for more than his ability to kill?
    She ran her fingers up and down the length of him. His scent
grew stronger. His cock grew harder. Pre-come bubbled at his tip and she
smeared it along his shaft. It changed his scent, making it thicker, more
intoxicating. Mariah didn’t realize she was panting until she looked up his
body and caught him staring down at her.
    It was more than any aphrodisiac Mariah had ever
experienced. Any male in her pack—her old pack—never came close to making her
feel the way she did right now. Her flesh tingled. Her heart palpitated so hard
in her chest it hurt. She panted as if she were in heat. And although she was
nowhere near her cycle, the only time when lunewulf could conceive,
Mariah felt the throbbing in her pussy as if she were.
    Her senses were heightened. With each stroke, her fingers,
soaked now from his pre-come, moved up and down him with ease. He grew, got
thicker, became stiffer, yet he didn’t try to stop her. Mariah watched his
breathing grow more ragged, his hard stomach rise and fall. She took in the
hair that rose from where his umbilical cord had been cut from his mother to
where it spread in tight curls across his chest. With so many scars, some
merely hairlines while others were jagged puckered flesh where possibly he had
struggled not to bleed out, Luther was still the image of perfection.
    Her womb swelled with need for him to be inside her. Luther
was so thick her fingers barely reached around him. Mariah quit stroking him.
If he grew much more, she worried she wouldn’t be able to take all of him.
    “My little white lunewulf ,” Luther rumbled, his voice
as thick with need as his scent.
    “My Cariboo male,” she returned, and heat filled her
insides.
    “I think you’ve played enough.”
    Mariah’s laughter didn’t sound as it usually did.