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She wasn’t Breed, yet. But the animal in him recognized the pr
imal core of her. And he would bring it out. He was created with the strength, the arrogance, to ensure it.
“What are you doing?” Her cry was one of shock, but not one of fear.
He tore the shreds from her, ripped the delicate material until there was no way it would ever cover her body again, and then he stilled.
Crouched over her, he could see what she wore beneath it now. The sexy, lacy, black garter and stockings. French-cut silk-and-lace matching panties. And a bra that was only barely there, pushing her breasts high, revealing her stiffened nipples. Rose-colored peaks surrounded by dusky temptation.
The sight of them made him hunger, make him growl. It made his erection throb in painful hunger and had him licking his lips at the thought of tasting them.
Once his lips covered those hard peaks, the hormone in his mouth would sink inside them, burn them, fill her with the need to have him suckle from her until they both expired with the ecstasy of it.
Then his lips would move lower. He let his eyes lower to her panties. He didn’t want to remove them. They were sexy as hell, drove him insane with hunger at the sight of them.
He pushed her legs apart with his own, inhaling, smelling her arousal and the heat beginning to infuse it.
Her back arched off the bed. His head lowered, his lips covering a nipple and drawing it into his mouth as she whimpered in pleasure.
For a moment, there was enough sanity left inside him to wonder how it felt for her.
Ria was sinking in a whirlpool of sensation. Mercury had always pleasured her. She had never known anything but pleasure from his touch. But this—she arched her back, ground her head against the pillows and fought to make sense of what she was feeling now.
Her mouth was filled with the taste of dark, primitive lust. Primal lust. There was no other description for it. A deep flavor of male pleasure, like a mountain storm. Crisp. Clean. Yet tinged with fire. And it enflamed her.
She could feel it pulsing through her veins as the taste of his kiss fueled a hunger she couldn’t have imagined feeling.
She couldn’t fight him. She wanted to claw and scratch and demand he take her now, but the pleasure, oh God, the pleasure held her bound, watching as he lifted his head and pushed himself between her thighs. A second later her panties were torn from her body.
And it was erotic. It was so sexual that she wasn’t prepared for what he did next.
Her back arched and a whimper tore from her as she felt his finger plunge inside her. It wasn’t a slow, easy thrust. It was a penetration. An impalement, as his head lowered and his lips covered the too-sensitive, distended peak of one nipple.
What was he doing to her? His tongue rasped over the hard tip, and it flamed. It tingled and burned, and as he drew on it, lashing it with his tongue, she began to writhe beneath him.
It was too much. His finger pumping into the tight, slick confines of her sex, his tongue destroying her with the pleasure that filled her nipple. The sensations tore through the tip, raced along nerve endings and sliced into her womb with the power to steal her breath with the ecstasy of it.
“Mercury.” She gasped his name, barely realizing her nails were piercing the tough skin of his shoulders rather than the blankets they had been latched onto. “What are you doing to me?”
Her head tossed. Fear and pleasure, agony and terror were streaking through her. She didn’t know if she should pray for release or beg for death it was so intense.
“Mating you. Mate.” His head lifted, his eyes crystal blue, the gold pinpoints flickering within the gemlike color.
His head lowered and his lips covered the other nipple. And it was the same. She was twisting, clawing at him. Needing him. Her pussy was pulsing around his finger as it moved inside her, stroking her, caressing her as she cried out his name again.
“Mercury. I can’t stand this,” she panted. She fought to hold on to him as the fear began to rise inside her.
She had read the reports on mating heat—the list of sensations felt, the intensity of it—and it hadn’t prepared her for this. Not this. The wildness rising inside her, crashing over her and obliterating any control she could have thought to possess.
All she could do was feel.
His lips drawing on her nipple, heating it, his tongue rasping it. Spreading that hormone over her. It was sinking into her pores. The rasp of his tongue was opening the tiny pores farther, allowing that hormone inside her.
“You can’t do this to me!” She tried to scream, but all she could manage was a sharp, smothered cry. “Damn you, Mercury. You can’t do this to me!”
He was filling her with that hormone. Licking her, spilling it into her very flesh as he growled against the mound of her breast and began to inch lower. A kiss, a lick. Pausing to suck at her flesh, to rake it with those wicked canines of his, rasp it with his tongue. He was destroying her, one lick at a time, and edging lower by the second.
She knew where he was going. Where the heat of her arousal was burning so deep, torturing her, twisting through her.
