Ravensblood Forest light of my life, fire of my loins [m]

“”

The hot clutchings of her innermost body drove him wild; he fought the flames with harsh pushes of his hips, lying his muzzle alongside the straining curve of her neck. And when she stiffened, then shuddered beneath her, the tremour jumping in electric ecstasy from her lithe form to his own, he found his own zenith on the waves of her sweet voice lifted in radiance to his name.

The shaman gave a hoarse cry of his own, tightening his grip about her slim hips, the undeniable throb of his weaponry deep within her relinquishing itself in a fiery, masculine rush of pleasure. Chest heaving with the exertion, he allowed himself a few brief moments of respite before he shifted his weight to his hindlegs, as not to crush his young lover into the snow.

He made no move to release her, however; by whatever design they were locked in a fleshly bond, one that slackened at length and he pulled away from Jinx with a grimace at their parting. He preened the fur of her flank gently, filled with the scent of their mingling, and he was content.