Read Claimed by the Wolf Prince for Free Online

swathe of silk running through her fingers.
    â€œThere is something in you that draws me to you,” Struan said. “You feel it, too,I know you do.”
    She could not deny it, but she was not yet prepared to admit it. Through the thin silk of the sark, she could feel her nipples pucker, the hard buds brazenly visible through the material. “You are descended from wolves,” she whispered. “Why should I be drawn to you? You are less than a man.”
    Struan’s laugh was more like a low growl. He leaned towards her, to nuzzle the pulse at her throat, and felt the direct connection between her scent and his shaft. He was immediately hard. Full. Potent. “I think you will find that I am much, much more than a man.”
    She knew she was playing with fire, but she could not resist fanning the flames. She could see, from the way his pupils were dilated, that he felt the same. Her skin was all goose bumps. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss. He was as intoxicating as a fine malt. “A proud boast,” Iona said, “but I doubt you can back it up.”
    Too late, she heard the implied challenge in her words. Had she meant it? She didn’t stop to think, but fled, up the stairs, along a corridor, aware all the time of him behind her, so close his breath was warm on her neck. Faster she ran. Heart pounding, chest heaving with effort, she threw herself at the door of an unknown chamber, trying to slam it shut before he could reach her, knowing she would fail.
    Struan leant against the inside of the door, his eyes glittering against the black oak. Iona backed across the cavern—a bed chamber—until her knees hit the edge of the bed. He followed her slowly, matching her step for step, their eyes locked. She was burning hot and icy cold, shivering with anticipation and desire. She tossed back her hair, unwittingly throwing her breasts into silhouette through the sark.
    His breath was warm on her ear. Her skin prickled in response. Her legs started to buckle and she fell back onto the bed. He fell on top of her. She could feel his erection pressing into her belly. Heat engulfed her. And then his mouth took hers.

Chapter 4
    She was on her back, Struan beside her, his lithe body pressed against hers. She panted for air, little gasps, but still he kissed her, and still she kissed him back.
    He rolled on top of her. Skin. Heat. Man. She arched up against him. Softness yielding to hardness. Her stomach clenched. Still kissing her, he moulded her breast with his hand, his thumb grazing the nipple through the silk sark, making her moan with pleasure.
    The claiming gown was rucked up around her knees and one of her legs was jammed between his. She could feel the rough, masculine skin rasp on the smooth feminine skin of her calf. She was feverish. His thumb on her nipple was too much and yet not enough. She resented the barrier, however flimsy, of the fine silk garment between them.
    Struan’s hand tightened on her breast. Impatient now, for the taste of her, he ripped the sark from the neck to the hem and laid her bare, catching his breath at her utter perfection. Her breasts were small but full. Dark pink nipples thrusting for his attention. He suckled one and stroked the other, relishing the way she writhed beneath him. His tongue flicked over and round, circling. He nipped her playfully with his teeth, first one nipple then the other.
    A rush of shocking pleasure, like a dousing in an icy mountain stream, made Iona cry out. She was shaking with delight, aching with anticipation. A yearning, a longing, gripped her. Her body thrust itself shamelessly at him, her hands roamed feverishly over his skin, his sinewy arms, the tensely knotted muscles of his back.
    â€œStruan,” she gasped, as his mouth tugged, warm and supple, on her nipple, and another rush of pleasure shivered through her. A trail of kisses down her body, lingering on the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. She