Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) by Ellis Leigh Page B

warmth, could practically taste him on the air. Her quivers traveled up and down her body, making her shake with need. With desire. Every inch of her in tune to every inch of him. Every thought completely dialed in to what he was doing or saying. There was no escaping his presence.
    Mammon leaned in farther, running his nose over her cheek to her ear. Barely a brush of skin, but enough to make her bite back a moan. To make her practically dissolve into a puddle of want and craving. To make her—
    “I can smell you.”
    It took Charmeine a moment to decipher his words, but when she did, her temper flared hotter than the sun. Spell broken once more. “How dare you be so crass?”
    “How dare you not ask for what you need?”
    “You have no idea what I need.” She pushed his shoulder, trying to move him. A fruitless effort and one that worked against her. He grabbed her wrist, held it, kept a physical contact that only made her body itch for more. Made her heart jump and her breath catch. Traitorous hormones.
    “I know exactly what you need,” he murmured, his voice rough, his growl undeniable. “What I don’t know is why you won’t give in and let yourself have it. Let go and take what you want, baby.” This time, he pushed her back against the shelves. Trapping her. Pressed the two of them together from shoulder to waist. But that wasn’t enough. Not for her, no. She rocked her hips forward, soft and subtle. Teasing…curious. But there was no soft or subtle when it came to the man chosen as her mate. The hardness, the ridge of steel in his pants screamed to her. She sought more contact. Wanting to understand the girth of him, the desire he obviously experienced around her.
    He moaned at the contact, and her eyes fluttered, the two moving in concert. Tiny brushes, a little added pressure here and there. A rough, almost-dry hump while standing up against the bookshelves in the study, mostly clothed, too pissed at each other to give in and get what they needed.
    Until he spoke again.
    “No one has to know that I get you wet simply by breathing the same air.” He growled low, making her entire body quake. “You think I’m any less immune to you? Jesus, woman. I’m hard every second around you.”
    She mashed their lips together in a kiss just this side of painful. She hated him and his filthy mouth, but damn did the man know how to kiss. Tongues sliding, breaths gasping, they kissed like a couple going down in flames. As if they’d never meet like this again, so that kiss was their one shot. And maybe it was, but at that moment, Charmeine couldn’t have stopped to save her life.
    As the kiss turned harsher, positively brutal, Mammon grabbed her by the back of the thighs and lifted her right off the ground before using his body to press her against the shelves. A wiggle, a squeeze, and she had him exactly where she wanted. So hard for her, so perfect as the head of him rubbed against the parts of her screaming for his attention. She wanted him…no kidding, joking, or lying. She wanted him naked, wanted to ride him until his entire body bowed beneath her, wanted to see this tough man crumble. But the stubborn streak that had kept her alive for so many years wasn’t ready to break.
    Instead, she rocked her hips against his. Intentionally and with a rhythm that couldn’t be ignored. Mammon, bless him, mimicked her motions. Lifting her with each press. Dragging that erection against her clitoris with every retreat. Driving her wild for him.
    “Make me come,” she gasped as she clutched at his shoulders.
    “Demanding little thing aren’t you?” He grunted, probably reacting to her nails embedding themselves in his skin as she clawed at him. Not that she cared. She scratched harder, clutched him tighter as he rocked more earnestly. Rolling his hips in the most perfect way. Fuck, the man could move. And still he held her, lifted her, acted as if her weight was nothing. And wasn’t that just the hottest thing