Her blood grew hotter and her skin flushed a beautiful rose as she writhed under him. He lifted his head and watched the two small trickles of ruby-red blood make their way down her breast. With a smile he chased them, lapping at them before closing the two small holes he’d made. At once he closed his mouth again over her left breast, the fingers of his hand tugging and rolling at her other nipple. She cried out, this time a little louder, pushing her breast into the heat of his mouth while he bit down softly.

He lifted his head to look down at her with satisfaction. Her breasts were covered with small strawberries, marks of his possession, tiny little nips, and most of all her nipples were hard peaks. “I saw a woman once wearing only a small fancy, decorative golden chain connecting one breast to the other, from nipple to nipple, and I couldn’t understand why until this moment. You have the most beautiful breasts, Branka, so beautiful. I could see you wearing little but a decorative chain. She had one that was five strands wrapped around her hips and nothing more.”

“Where in the world did you see such a sight?”

His hand stroked between her legs and he felt the flood of liquid at the idea. “I chased a Lycan who had murdered his neighbor into a club where there was dancing.”

She laughed softly. “There was obviously a lot more going on than dancing.”

“Probably, but I didn’t have the time to stay and watch. Although, if you want to dance for me, I would be more than willing to sit back and enjoy the show.”

“You think I wouldn’t?” She caught his head in her hands, framing his face. “I would do anything for you. Anything you asked or wished of me.”

“Then dance for me, mon chaton féroce. I would love to sit here and watch you dance.”

He rolled off of her, reclined back on their thick mat of grass and watched as she gracefully got to her feet. She turned her back to him and the sound of music began to drift into the cradle, through the leaves of the few trees, an exotic, sexy sound that matched the beat of his heart.

She swept her hair up in an intricate do, long tendrils looking as though they’d escaped to drift down her back to her bottom. When she turned, his heart skipped a beat and then began pounding. She wore a decorative chain, several strands of finest gold woven in an intricate pattern strung from one breast to the other. The clamps on her nipples were jeweled and tiny bells hung from the loops of the chains.

His cock, already full, nearly burst. His hand moved down to casually circle his burgeoning erection while he inspected the series of chains wrapped around her hips. Little strands of bells hung like fringe, dipping low, nearly covering her fiery mound and the damp heat between her legs, but each movement gave him teasing, enticing glimpses.

She swayed, a sultry movement, undulating her body, a ripple of pure sexual intent. She kept her eyes on his, moving around him, her small bare feet making no sound in the grass so that she appeared to be dancing almost in the air.

The small bells tinkled and added their notes to the music. He realized that each bell sent a small vibration through his cock. His fist tightened, slowly sliding in time with that beat up and down his shaft. He had never seen anything more sensual in his life. She danced gracefully, but every movement was about sex, was an invitation to claim her body—was a claiming of his body.

The wind drifted through the small crater and caught at her hair, tugged at the bells and brought him her enticing fragrance. He crooked his finger at her and she swayed closer. He reached up and caught the chain, tugging gently. She gasped and came down to her knees, her breath hissing out of her, her green eyes going wide as fire raced from her nipples to her groin. He kept tugging, bringing her lower until her mouth was over his cock.

She laughed softly, a sound of pure joy, the warmth of her breath teasing the broad head, and then he inhaled sharply as her tongue lapped at the small pearls waiting for her. She enveloped him, her mouth gloriously hot, eager to taste him, to please him, happy that her dance had given him such happiness. He caught her hair in one hand and played with the chain with the other as she suckled him, her mouth tight, her tongue dancing. He let his head fall back and he watched the stars above him. “No other man could ever be this happy, Branka,” he whispered.

Her fingers danced over his tight sac, her mouth perfection; at times she took him so deep the constriction shocked him while the sensation bordered on ecstasy. When he knew she was going to drain him, he tugged the chain again, forcing her forward, forcing her to lift her head.

Her jeweled gaze met his. She pouted at him. “I was hungry.”

“So am I,” he said, his voice close to a growl. He pushed her gently to the ground. “Very hungry. A wolf’s hunger.”

She shivered, and made a move as if she might remove the chains. He shook his head. “Leave them. I’ll remove them later. I like the bells and the way they look on you.” He tugged again at the chain between her breasts, lifting the two soft mounds slightly. “I never thought an adornment would look so beautiful against your skin. Your skin is flawless, amazing, and such a perfect color.” Her skin felt—and looked—like soft rose petals flushed with heat.

“I have scars,” she said softly and went to touch the raised ridge between her breasts.

He caught her hand and pushed it back to the ground. “This body belongs to me,” he snapped, and leaned down as he pulled up on the chain, lifting her breasts so that he could nip at the underside of her left breast. “Mine. And it’s perfection. You don’t get to ever say anything disparaging about this body.” He ran his tongue along the ridged scar from one breast to the other, teasing and tugging at the chain.

He’d made the declaration half in humor and half serious. He loved her body and he never wanted her to feel less than beautiful. He kissed his way down from the jeweled tips of her breasts to her intriguing belly button. He spent some time there, teasing and nipping before moving lower to inspect those mysterious little bells. If she moved, bucked her hips, would that same vibration run through his cock? A small experiment was in order. The music continued to play, drifting on the wind, the branches of the trees swaying gently, as if keeping time. He lifted her hips, wedging his shoulders between her thighs to hold her open to him. She was a beautiful flower full of nectar, and he wanted it all.

He bent his head and lapped at the honey spilling from her. She bucked hard. The tiny bells jingled along the chain running from one nipple to the other as her breasts swayed. The bells around her hips chimed, soft little musical notes that vibrated through his cock, sending electrical shocks singing through his entire body.