Dorian fumbles with the door, then we're out of the bathroom and tumbling onto the bed, our arms and legs tangling with each other. I can't stop my eyes roving over his lithe body, admiring the grace of his wolf half evident in even his frenzied movements. It's shameless, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to mow him over and fling myself on top of his exquisite, virile frame.
Obviously, I'm not going to get the chance.
As soon as I reach a hand towards Dorian's hard muscled chest, he captures my wrist with a crushing grip. Pinning it with my other, he takes my lips in a hard kiss, opening my mouth to claim my tongue by force in a very-un-Dorian way. His skin is fiery pressed against mine, and I melt into it, my body moving in a smooth rhythm with his, like waves lapping at the shoreline.
Yet a storm is brewing. I can sense the feral need burning inside him and long to unleash that animal. I writhe, sliding my body against and beneath his, calling silently to the wolf inside him.
