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It was shockingly ecstatic, poised on the pinnacle of orgasm, certain when it came, it would take the top of her head off.
“Not like this.” Hard hands gripped her hips. “Inside you. I’ll be inside you when you come for me, cher. I’ll be damned if you’ll go without me.”
FIVE
He had to make it to the bed. God, he couldn’t take her here on the stairs. He had promised himself, the first time, when he completed his claim on her he would do so in the bed he had made for her. The one he’d made certain was in place before she came to this house.
The king-size bed made of heavy cypress posts, carved and detailed, made especially for the woman who would one day hold his soul.
He dreamed of claiming her there. Not here, not on stairs where she couldn’t possibly know the comfort of soft sheets and the finest mattress he could provide.
Growling, his lips still holding the tight, sweetly succulent flesh of her nipple captive, he forced himself to his feet then nearly lost all strength he possessed as her legs wrapped around his hips and the heat of her pussy seeped through his jeans to his cock.
He locked his hands on her ass, and he forced himself down the short hall to her bedroom. He pushed his way through the doorway, slammed the door closed, and barely remembered to lock it before he stumbled across the room to the bed.
He felt the power of it the minute he collapsed to the mattress with her. The comfort, the peace. Entwined with the prayers of the swamp rat that had saved him, carved into lightning-struck cypress were ancient symbols of protection and peace. It was a work of art by an artist the world had never known as he taught the craft to the strange boy he had rescued from the hurricane-ravaged bayou.
It was the bed Saban had dreamed of building at an age when most boys were still tied to their mother’s apron strings. The bed where he knew he would one day create his family.
“Here,” he sighed, lifting from her, giving her nipple one last lick before levering himself from the curvy sweetness of her supple body.
He pulled her legs from around his waist, gripped the band of her capris, and pulled them quickly down her legs. Disposing of her strappy little sandals was easy, as was removing the silk of her damp panties.
And then he paused, held himself still, and stared down at the perfection of the woman who was his mate.
Her breasts that filled his hands perfectly, the flare of her hips, the gentle weight of her thighs, the smooth, curl-less folds of her sex. Her pussy was bare, silken, and beautiful. But how much more beautiful, he thought, if he could convince her to allow those soft curls to return?
All the sweetness in the world was held there, and he was a man who thrived on his sweets.
His head lowered, his tongue distending, and he swiped through the soft cream, a rough growl leaving his throat as he found the swollen little nub of her clit and her soft, needy cry filled the air.
Sugar and cream, that was her taste, and he could become drunk on her. He licked through the slick juices, nectar, the wine of the gods, it had to be. His lips opened, and he kissed the delicate folds of flesh, licked at the taste of her, devouring the passion that flowed from her.
And she loved it. He could feel the pleasure twisting, climbing through her body as she writhed beneath him. He had to clamp his hands on her hips to hold her still, but she lifted herself to him.
Her knees bent,
her feet pressed into the mattress as he knelt beside the bed. Her hips angled, and his tongue found paradise. Rich, heady, living passion flowed to him as he heard her cries sinking into his head.
He had never known lust this hot, this wild. He fucked his tongue into the gripping, heated depths of her pussy and growled. An involuntary sound, wild and primitive, as he fought to slake his hunger for her taste.
The scent of her arousal had filled his head for weeks. Heated and mesmerizing, it had built a hunger for her that he feared he would never sate.
Mating heat be damned. This woman had consumed him long before the mating heat had begun affecting him. And now he would consume her, become so much a part of her that she could no longer run, that she realized they were bound: bound in ways she didn’t want to escape.
“I want you!” Natalie clawed at his shoulders as his tongue pumped into her pussy, driving her to the point of madness with the wicked, incredible pleasure tearing through her.
She wanted to touch him, wanted to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, but she couldn’t think. She couldn’t push herself away, and she couldn’t help but beg, to plead for more of his wicked tongue and evil fingers.
Fingers that were pressing inside her, filling her as his lips moved to the hard knot of her clit and surrounded it.
Her eyes jerked open, stared down her body, met the dark green fire in his as he licked and suckled at the violently sensitive flesh.
She was going to explode. She could feel it. She was right there. So close.
“You taste like a dream.” He kissed her clit, once, twice, then licked around it slowly, his slumberous eyes locked with hers. “I could eat you forever.”
She could barely breathe.
