Page 10 of Claiming the Shifter’s Heart (The Macconwood Pack Tales #16)

I t’d been years since Kris had popped his cherry in the back of an old Ford, but three minutes inside an elevator making out with the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen in his entire life, and he was that close to shooting off in his pants.

Fuck. Me.

Della panted and moaned into his mouth, pressing her hot little body against his.

“Hang on. Keys,” he grunted, patting his pockets while searching with one hand.

He felt her tiny ones go into his back pocket, squeezing his ass as she went. Kris loosed a long, slow growl. His cock was so hard, he figured his boxers had holes in them from all the freaking thumping and pulsing the thing was doing.

And was it doing it to the beat of Jingle Bells? What the actual fuck?

He scrubbed his hand over his face harder this time. But it was no good. He wanted Della to be his, officially speaking.

Mine. Mine. MINE.

His Wolf chanted like a prayer, the animal desperate to claim the little bird. Hell, he needed to rein in the beast. Kris couldn’t just bite her without asking.

He wouldn’t do that. Would never take her choice. Even though he’d never wanted anyone like this in his life, Kris knew she had to be with him every step of the way.

Oh, he planned on mating her. Was dying of love for her. Desperate to make her love him, too.

But first things first, get her addicted to his dick and maybe her heart would follow.

It was fucked up as far as plans went, but he was a carpenter, not a fucking philosopher. Besides, Shifters were physical creatures, and he knew this was going to be the best sex of both their lives.

The sound of jingling broke through his sex fogged brain, and he lifted his head from where he’d been licking and nibbling at her neck.

“Found ‘em,” she whispered, mischief dancing in her brown eyes as she wiggled the keys in her hand and her ass in his, asking without words to be let down.

He obliged, hands on her hips as she turned and unlocked his door. Fuck, she was so damn beautiful.

Once the door was closed and locked, Kris led the way to his bedroom. His chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy like his Wolf’s after a long, fierce chase.

And wasn’t this the same? Hadn’t he been pining for this woman for weeks now?

Kris sucked at small talk. He didn’t believe in saying a whole lot of nothing to try to get to know a person. He was quiet by nature, preferring to speak only when he had something to say.

Doing this Santa gig had helped get him out of his shell. He liked kids, but the biggest bonus was getting to spend time with her.

Della was so sweet and kind. He’d watched her talk to children and parents alike. She spoke with everyone, all the families who came to the farm to visit to take a picture with Santa Claus.

The woman was a natural. She was fantastic, and he was so proud of her. He’d heard rumors among the Pack of the poor abused mother. But she didn’t seem that way to him.

Della wasn’t weak or broken. She wasn’t something to be pitied. She was brave, a fighter. Absolutely fucking glorious. Beast and man, both sides coveted her. And tonight he was going to show her.

“W-where do you want me?” she asked, swallowing her nerves, or so he assumed.

“Right over here, Mama,” he murmured, dragging her to him.

“We can go as slow or as fast as you like,” he said, cupping her neck and squeezing gently to reassure as her gaze lifted to his.

“Okay.”

“Anytime you wanna stop, you just tell me, Sweet Girl. But for the record, I’ve been dying to do this since the first time I saw you,” he breathed the last few words as he pulled her in for a kiss.

She was so earthy and vibrant. Kris felt like a green pup, tugging at her clothes and his, so desperate to feel her skin.

“Lay back, Big Guy., I got this part,” she said, smiling against his mouth and pushing his chest.

He scooted up the bed still in his boxers. The lights were off, but Kris had no problem seeing in the dark. Outside his window, snow fell, and the Atlantic crashed against the surf in the near distance.

Winter at the beach was something he’d always wanted to experience. But there might as well have been a brick wall outside the glass for all the attention he paid to it.

Kris had something much better to look at, anyway. He sat up. Fingers itching to help as Della stood on the bed and shimmied out of her Elf costume.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, eyes wide as she rid herself of the gaudy velvet dress and the striped stockings.

Della straightened, standing tall, biting her lip as she walked closer, standing between his splayed legs. Kris’ heart went wild at the sight of her.

“What do you think?” she whispered, and he heard more than the question.

“What do I think? How can I think is more like it?”

His eyes ate her up. Every glorious inch. That goddamn naughty scrap of lace she had on that barely covered her sweet pussy and big tits had him almost coming just looking at her.

“So, you like it?”

“Like it? Sweet Girl, you look good enough to eat. In fact,” he growled, sliding his palms up her curvy legs, around to her ass and dragging her closer.

“Goddamn. You smell like fucking peaches and cream, Mama, and I gotta have a taste.”

Kris had never been so grateful for being tall as he was right then. She was standing on the bed, her pussy the perfect height for his face. And that was just what he wanted.

He slid one hand between her legs, giving her cunt a good squeeze before tapping on her inner thigh. She reacted instinctually, parting her legs, her brown eyes wide. He hooked a finger around the elastic, pulling the material aside to reveal her glistening lips.

“Oh, but I never,” she said, gulping as he slid his fingers over her fold.

“Good, I get to be the first. Now, hold on,” he said, not letting her finish before closing his mouth over her sweet sex.

Mine.