She could say in all honesty that although she’d had some wonderful lovers, she’d never met her match.

Until Brendon Shaw dropped to all fours and crawled across his bed to her. Fangs slowly slid from his gums, and his claws kept catching on his sheets. He didn’t rush over to her, slam her down. He moved like the king of the jungle he believed himself to be. Like he knew he’d get what he wanted eventually. She liked that he hadn’t dived face-first into her muff in the hope of forcing that orgasm out of her so he could get in and get off.

Nope. Shaw meandered his way across that bed like the world belonged to him. Once he reached her, he nuzzled her thigh and licked the back of her knee. His hands smoothed across her skin, exploring every inch, taking his time. He even rubbed his mane of hair across her breasts and stomach, the feel of it exciting her more than any tongue or finger ever had.

Eventually he moved lower, his tongue swiping up between her legs, licking the wetness already coating the inside of her thighs. Then he purred, and Ronnie’s eyes crossed. She gripped the headboard and gritted her teeth. “Let him work for it” had always been her motto, but his skills were such, he didn’t have to work very hard.

Big hands slipped around the back of her legs and lifted her hips up, resting her thighs on his shoulders. Her cowboy boots pressed against his back, and his hands took firm hold of her ass. His tongue swept inside her and Ronnie cried out, her hips rocking against his mouth. Brutally fast, that orgasm crawled up her spine. Her body tightening, her claws gripping the back of his headboard, tearing at the wood.

Yet the man didn’t seem to be rushing anything. Licking her slow and easy, still purring up against her flesh. Ronnie looked down to see that oh-so-happy smile he sported while giving her head—and she came like a freight train all over that pretty face.

Shaw rode it out with her, keeping a tight hold on her until her ecstatic cries turned to exhausted whimpering.

Grinning like he owned the universe, he lowered her legs until they rested against his thighs. Ronnie still had her arms holding the headboard, so Shaw ran his hands over her body. When his big thumbs grazed her nipples, she squeaked.

“Man,” he sighed, “you are easy.”

She’d been called that before, but for once she didn’t get pissed because she knew he didn’t mean it as an insult. “Don’t get cocky, cat. We ain’t done yet. We’ve got miles to go before you sleep.”

He laughed and kissed her, pulling her body flush against his. “You are so beautiful,” he said against her lips while his hands roamed over every inch of her. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

“And why exactly are we waiting?”

He shrugged, kissed her shoulders. “Trying to be a gentlemanor…whatever.”

She snorted. “You know what I do with gentlemen? I chew them up and spit them out and leave the remains for the hyenas.” Ronnie wrapped her arms around his neck. “Gentlemen don’t make me hot. They don’t make me squirm. And they sure as shit never make me come.” She dug her hands into his hair, loving the way he never had true control over it. A big healthy mane. “If you were a gentleman, I wouldn’t be here with you. I’d be anywhere but here with you.”

Shaw leaned back, his hands brushing her hair off her face. “But you are here with me.”

“Yeah. I am. Now it’s time for you to get to work. Show me how you’re king of the jungle and all that.”

He laughed and joked, “You sure that’s a good idea? Once you’ve had the king, you’ll never go back to the lowly Alpha Male.”

He knew how to have fun in bed. Thank God! Nothing Ronnie hated more than a man who had to be serious all the time. In bed or out. But especially in bed. Here you are, naked and groping each other. Seemed like the perfect time to joke, tease, have fun. But some men acted like they were “taking the beach” at Normandy during World War II.

Ronnie slipped her right hand down, gripping Shaw’s cock and totally enjoying the way he groaned as she slowly pumped it.

“Talking. Talking. Talking. But I’m still waitin’ for the proof, hoss.”

Teasingly he rolled his eyes. “If you insist on me having actual intercourse with you to prove my point—and thereby ruining you for other males—I guess I have no choice but to oblige.”

He reached over into the side drawer, her going with him since she now rested on his lap and still had his cock in her hand.

Pulling out a long strip of condoms, he held them up and asked, “Think we’ll need all of these tonight?”

“If you want me bragging about you in the mornin’, then you damn well better.”

“Here.” Brendon handed her a condom. “Make yourself useful.”

She grinned while tearing open the packet, and he tried not to panic at the riot of emotions assaulting him at the moment. Instead he stroked her, caressed her, reveled in the softness and hardness of a female predator’s body. He traced scars riddling her shoulders, back, and torso. She didn’t hide them, nor did she stop him from touching, exploring. He really liked that about Ronnie Lee. She didn’t shy away, it seemed, from anything.

The condom slipped over his aching cock, and she rolled it down to the base. She wrapped her hand around it and squeezed.

Letting out a groan, “Evil.”

Ronnie chuckled, probably not realizing the hold she had on him went deeper than the hold she had on his cock.