Shifters of Silver Peak: A Very Shifty Christmas by Georgette St. Clair

to him, allowing him to stroke her tongue with his. She slipped out of her coat and he ran his hand over her breasts and down her sides before pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his hands resting on her hips.
    He gave a shuddering breath and pulled away. She felt momentarily bereft until she realized he was spreading her coat out on the floor to make a comfortable place for them to lie.
    They undressed each other, taking their time, stopping after each discarded item of clothing for more kisses. He swept his hands over her curves and buried his face against the swell of her breast; she played her fingers over the hard planes of his stomach and teased his flat nipples with her tongue.
    Valerie’s inner thighs were slick with her own juices by the time he knelt over her where she lay on the floor, gazing down with an expression she couldn’t quite place. She squirmed impatiently and reached for him, but he grasped her wrists and pushed her hands down to either side of her head.
    “I said I’m going to tell you what I can feel,” he said, his voice hoarse. “What I can taste.”
    A delicious shiver ran through her as he lowered his head and kissed her lips. “You taste of granola bars,” he murmured. “Sweet and nutty.”
    He moved down to her throat and licked her pulse point. “I can taste the salt on your skin. I can feel your pulse against my tongue.”
    He scraped his teeth over her collarbone before cupping her breasts and kissing the pillowy mounds, teasing her nipples, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re so warm and soft. I want to sink into you.”
    As he said that, he ran his hand over her belly and down to the triangle of curls at the juncture of her thighs. He worked his finger between the slick lips of her pussy, pushing slowly inside her, testing and teasing.
    He groaned. “I can feel how wet you are for me,” he growled. “I can feel how much you want me. Valerie wordlessly moaned her assent, flexing her hips to push her mound against his palm in invitation.
    Then she gasped as he moved further down her body and parted her thighs with his hands, hovering with his face a scant inch away from her most intimate flesh. He inhaled deeply, and murmured, “You smell musky and sweet. I can feel the heat of your pussy on my lips.” He gave her a long, slow lick, dipping into her entrance and lapping over her clit with a firm little flick that made her moan and arch her back. “This is what I wanted to taste,” he growled.
    Then he was kissing her intimately, playing his tongue in quick, clever circles around that exquisitely sensitive bud before taking it between his lips and suckling, sending quicksilver threads of sensation through her body.
    She gasped and writhed against him, balling her hands into fists, her thighs trembling with tension against the sides of his face.
    Her internal muscles clenched and quivered as his clever mouth worked her toward ecstasy, sensation building upon sensation, Morgan’s lips and tongue unrelenting even as she all but shrieked her release and ground her pussy against his mouth. Every muscle in her body went rigid as her orgasm crested and climbed again, sending her tumbling into a maelstrom of pleasure that went on and on.
    She was still moaning with the aftershocks when Morgan covered her with his body and thrust inside her with a single, powerful motion.
    Even though she was soaking wet and more aroused than she’d ever been in her life, he stretched and filled her to the limit. With each clench of her core, she tightened around him, and she could feel the urgent throbbing of his engorged cock. He muttered a low curse, circling his hips almost imperceptibly, each tiny movement seeming unbearably magnified.
    Morgan rolled over onto his back, carrying her with him. He grasped her hips, lifting her slightly, encouraging her to ride him.
    Valerie obliged, putting her palms flat on the floor on the ice by his head for