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Mature content- 18+
Farrow laid Fiona carefully on the bed. He was worried about her after the near disaster of the night… if she would have hurt the baby dragon, blasted out of her mind or not, she would've never been able to forgive herself for it. Damn, I’d never seen her that out of control, he thought, it was like, for several minutes, she was a different person all together. If this was what the dark urge was all about, then he definitely thought it to be a curse rather than a gift like Craven had made it out to be.
He looked down at her sleepy features and instantly he was light headed. She had such beautiful peaches and cream skin. His gaze dropped to her kissable lips, then her strong but delicate nose. “You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.
His fingers eased under her rose-gold hair, sifted through, then he lifted a silky lock of it to his face. He inhaled her tantalizing scent, making his intense feelings for her bite deep into his heart, which if he didn’t cool it, was about to jump straight out of his chest. He shifted to place his cheek next to hers and nudged her ear with the bridge of his nose. “Mine,” his growled claim was whispered, almost ritualistic in nature, like a marriage vow, but on a deep, primal level. She was what he’d wanted his whole life. He would always want her.
Fiona yawned and tilted her head, her emerald green eyes looking up at him; she didn’t need to say the words that came next, because her eyes said it all, yet she purred at him anyways. “Take your clothes off.”
Farrow’s head lifted; his savage male instincts to please her going nuts. If his woman wanted him naked, then he wouldn’t hesitate to give her exactly what she wanted and more.
He hopped out of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head the massive muscles in his arms bunching, rolling as he tossed it to floor. Next, he kicked off his shoes, and quickly pushed out of his jeans.
Fiona watched his every move with hunger, her eyes hooded from not only drowsiness, but of lust. Her tongue slipped from her mouth to moisten her lips while her eyes locked on the bulge stretching the front of his boxers to capacity. “Off, I want it all off.”
A groan vibrated his throat. If she kept looking at his cock like that there was no way he was going to make it inside of her before he exploded. “Damn it woman, you’re killing me.”
Fiona sat up and slowly pulled her shirt over her head and stretched her arms out with a small yawn; the action concaved her stomach and tilted her breasts upward. After she relaxed her body, she took down her hair then brushed out the tangles with her fingers. The long and wavy strands fluttered over her shoulders covering a good portion of her large high breasts.
A growl emanated from between Farrow’s lips as his gaze lingered on her supple curves. Gods, he thought, I swear the little minx enjoys torturing me.
Her devilish lips curved as she pulled up to her knees and began to work the button and zipper to her jeans. Her gaze fell on him and the unbridled look of hunger on his face almost choked her up. It was a look she knew well, and it made her feel wanted, sexy, craved. “Come here, I need to feel your touch.”
Farrow moved forward with a millions ideas of how he’d like to touch her in his mind, but when he reached the foot of the bed, he remained still for a handful of moments. It had been so long since he’d touched her. He wanted to take his time, wanted to drink every second of this moment in.... continued in Dark Urge, Fury Wolves, book 1.
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