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Beauty and the Brute [Werescape III]
by Skhye Moncrief

Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica
Description: In a world where ride or die becomes your only hope for a future, sometimes you find you never really lived until you're running for your life.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: April 2012

eBookeBook

5 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [296 KB]
Words: 63565
Reading time: 181-254 min.


Nude, Brutus stretched out on his side studying the tiny brown eyelashes lacing the edge of Beauty's closed eyelids. No Shifter's scent was on her. No one had visited her. Propositioned her. Like she would take another after the kiss. After the way her delicate feminine form sank into my body. After those hands of hers tried to roam across my chest over my shirt.

Mine, Wolf snarled.

Oh, yes.

She squirmed a bit and turned her nose a fraction of an inch my direction. "Brutus," she mumbled in her sleep.

Dreaming of me. Oh, yes. Mine. To have. To mark.

She wrestled air with a wag of her head and settled back down into the nest of her long loose brown hair.

Bent by the braid she'd worn for days. Splayed like a fan against the folded clothes beneath her head. Clothes. Her blue jeans. What did she hide beneath my blanket?

My Beauty's body.

Soft. Sleek. Curved in all the right places.

Mine. Wolf growled a low throaty gurgle of satisfaction.

Time to claim my territory. Careful not to touch her body, I anchored a hand into the hard floor near her farthest shoulder and descended, crouched over her faint exhalation, to those silken warm lips.

Lips that instantly molded to mine. Opened. Perhaps gasped. Pursed around my upper lip.

Pressed with the slightest pressure. Slipped away.

My cock lunged.

Not for long. I caught her lower lip between my teeth, dragging gently, pulling the delicate tissue.

She whimpered.

Or groaned. Teasing Wolf into a state of misery. The beast would claim her hard and fast in his Mating Fever. I had to control him. Had to show her I wasn't an animal. How, when all I

wanted to do was rub my body over every inch of her delectable skin and lick every morsel of her succulent flesh? Wolf probably couldn't hold back. Probably would sink his teeth into her at every pattering little beat of her pulse.

My mouth drooled.

The scent of her arousal coiled around us like an invisible cloud.

An aphrodisiac soon to cloak me as a sign to all who passed that she was mine.

One of her hands slid beneath my arm, over my back. The other around my neck.

Holding me there with velvety skin. So Gods-be-damned intoxicating. Now. I wanted to peel away the blanket and unwrap my last meal. The only thing that could ever end my hunger.

Until I dined from Beauty's ambrosia, I would never be satisfied. I slid a hand beneath the cover's edge.

Into heat. Sweet divine heat Shifters spoke of late at night when Bounders roamed the Earth and children sat around fires listening to tales. When fathers bragged of the last sacred thing on the planet. Of how they drank from the Well of Immortality. Of a mate's gift birthed on a planet plundered by aliens. But never completely lost. Not when mates could be found. I

brushed the almost-rough ribbed surface of her tank top.

Over her rising and falling ribs. To the gentle bulge of breast at the top. Right in the v-shaped bend between my thumb and index finger.

Wolf ached to gnaw the mound.

She whimpered into my mouth, sliding her palm over my scalp, cupping my skull, inviting my exploration.

Perfect.

Wolf hummed.

I brushed my palm down across her flat little belly, down lower.

She gasped.

Down to the edge of her panties. Silken edge. The kind of undergarments wealthy women had because trade these days required money to bring surplus goods left after AEI to the rich.

Lower. Just beneath the elastic edge, I thrust my fingers into her nest of tight curls, lower, into damp heat, between sweet folds, dipping against the faintest of ridges nestled in a pool of ambrosia. She was so Gods-be-damned wet.


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