Calling Down the Moon

"I suppose that's true. But I do."

"God, I hope you don't regret saying that." Mike was across the couch in an instant, dragging her to him and kissing her within an inch of her life.

Lindsay's head was swimming, every cell singing, her mouth being explored in the most erotic kiss of her life. His tongue seemed to merge with hers, sliding sensuously along its length. She could almost feel his nerve endings pinging, snapping fire between them. He took her mouth, dragging her into a world of sensation and emotion that left her breathless and longing for more. Hands cupped her face, stroked gently down her throat, left her skin and traced the line of her body through the fleece robe. She whimpered into his mouth, clinging to his shoulders, her small hands caressing the back of his neck. He made a low growling noise and released her lips, kissing along her cheek and jaw, licking her throat and teasing her earlobe.

"You smell like home," he murmured into her ear, almost to himself. "You smell like mine."

Logic had taken a vacation. Lindsay could no longer access the part of her brain that knew this was crazy. She drowned in the sea of loneliness that washed out of them both, draining away and filling back up with the rightness of two becoming one mind, one heart. Throwing back her head, giving him her throat to caress and nibble and suck, she moaned deep in her throat, begging wordlessly. Civilization lost to complete instinct, and Michael growled as he bit just hard enough to make her shudder and orgasm under his hands. The robe was gone, they both were wildly tugging and yanking and throwing aside until only skin remained, hot and quivering. His teeth scored her breasts, gently nibbled her nipples until they ached, sucking strong and demanding her response. His hands stroked and cajoled and demanded, finding her hot slick center and plunging his fingers inside her.

She gasped and moaned, bucking against his hand, feeling his fingers brush the spot just inside as she came again, soaking his palm. He growled approval and kissed her again, stroking faster, and she dragged her nails down his back. The sound he made was nearly a howl and he bit the hard peak of her breast, just enough pressure to make her arch and come again, hard.

He moved down her body, licking and nibbling and sucking kisses that left her quivering and moaning. His head dipped, and he was lapping at her, making happy growly noises, his tongue driving her to frenzy. She clutched his head, bucking against her face, and he looked up, a wide grin beaming at her.

"You taste even better than you smell," he informed her, and plunged his tongue deep into her.

She shrieked in pleasure, calling his name as her juices flooded his mouth. He opened his mouth impossibly wide, encompassing her entire sex, and sucked strong as she rode the wave of her most powerful orgasm yet. When the last quivering ebbed away, he crawled up her body, kissed her hard, rose up, and eyes fixed on her face, plunged deeply home.

"Look at me, Linds," he whispered. "I want to watch your face."

Her eyes opened again, staring into the deep brown. They were lit from within, a spark that was almost red in the candlelight flickering in their depths. She stared, mesmerized by the tenderness mixed with wild, savage need on his face. She could smell him, a primal scent like musky fur and wild things in the dark, calling her, and she felt a tug deep inside. Their eyes locked, he seemed to be delving into her head, and she screamed as sudden white lightning pain struck her in the gut. Not just her gut; her whole body felt dipped in napalm and set on fire, and she howled, unable to break eye contact with Michael. He stared back, his face suffused with a wild joy she didn't understand, underlain with a deep sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed through her pain. "I'll make it quick."

He surged forward, taking her hard, brutally, slamming, once, twice, three times before adding his howl to hers and erupting deep in her womb, eyes never leaving hers. At the moment of his climax, he shouted her name in a deep growling command.

"Come to me, Lindsay.....now!"

He pulled out, sitting back on his heels, and Lindsay felt her body torn apart from the inside out. His hands and voice were the only point of sanity in her world, keeping her anchored as she was buffeted by an internal hurricane. It lasted for eternity, pain and roaring sense ofbecoming. Then everything snapped into place, unfamiliar and frightening but somehow, right. Lindsay scrambled to her feet, panting and sitting back on her haunches, green eyes puzzled but aware and sane, staring at Michael. He stroked the deep brown fur, nuzzled at her long nose, petting and soothing, letting her smell him.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "You didn't know, did you?"

The wolf shook her head, whining a little. She stretched and lay among the now soaked and torn cushions of the old battered couch, nose on paws, eyes rolling to watch him.

"This is the worst it will ever be," Mike promised. "The first time always is. I had to call you, you see?"

She whined again, scooting forward on her belly, rolling so her belly and throat were bared. He smiled and shook his head.

"You're mine," he said, stroking her long and gentle. "But I'm yours as well."

Energy surged, and he changed, howling his release when he was bone and fur again. The Pack Master nipped his mate playfully, accepting her surrender. Bidding her to follow, he nosed open the dog door he'd installed years ago, and they ran through the passing storm, seeking the rest of their pack.