"My heart," he murmured against Russell's skin. "My soul... my love."
Carrick's movements grew deeper, faster, and he moved with increasing urgency. Russell's body around him was so tight, so hot; it was like being embraced by the very sunlight that he had long ago bade farewell. The moans ripped from the werewolf's throat were like music.
As his thrusts sped up, so did the force of his kisses. His mouth on Russ; was demanding and ravenous, nipping at the softness of his lower lip and lapping up the bead of blood that welled into his mouth.