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Shudders worked through her body. Her nipples ached as the lace of her bra rasped them; her clit was burning, throbbing mindlessly for release as he pounded into her from behind.
Shaking from the need, she gripped his arm as she felt his other hand move between her thighs, as though he sensed, as though he knew this position alone wasn’t going to afford her the relief she needed there.
“Love me again, Anya.” His head pressed against her shoulder. “Please, baby. Love me, just one more time.”
His palm covered the hard bud and ground against it. Quaking tremors of response began to build inside her. Warmth surrounded her now, every part of her. It moved inside her, heated the cold spots and eased the agony that resonated through her soul.
She loved him. She loved him until nothing else mattered, until she was lost inside him and she knew she would never fully escape.
“Love me,” he whispered again.
The pleasure built inside her until it was a whirlwind. Until it raced through her blood, centered at her clit, in her vagina. Until she was exploding with a force that lifted her to her tiptoes and had her teeth biting into his arm as he sank into the bend of her shoulder, his tongue lashing at the mating mark as she felt him swell inside her.
Agonizing throbs of pleasure tore through her. Perspiration dampened both of them, and between them rioting flames of release seared across their nerve endings.
She was shaking in his arms. Shudders that seemed to go to the bone trembled through her as she felt the deep jets of his semen pulsing inside her. Filling her. Completing her until she knew that living without him wasn’t possible. Existing without him wasn’t going to happen.
Anya heard herself whimper as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed long, long minutes later. He finished undressing her, undressed himself, then moved over her.
“I need you again.”
He was still erect, still hard.
Her thighs parted as she felt him move inside her, working slowly into the swollen tissue as they both cried out at the pleasure of it.
“Sweet Anya,” he groaned as he filled her.
Dely-Rey had never known pleasure as sweet, as rich as fucking her. Sliding his cock inside her, feeling her pussy clench and tighten around him, those convulsive, sucking little motions destroying his control.
The scent of sweet female cream and male lust filled the air as his lips feathered over her lips, then moved to her tight, hard nipples.
She arched to him as he sucked first one, then the other of the hard tips into his mouth. He drew on the tight tips, feeling her nails digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his hips.
This was what he needed from her. All of her. All of her centered right here, in his bed, taking him, needing him. Loving him.
Sweet God, he was losing himself in her and he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hold it back. He needed more and more, until he shafted into her with hard, hungry thrusts. Until he felt her exploding, heard her screaming his name as he locked inside her again, spilling his release and growling her name like a demented animal that could find sanity nowhere else but in this woman’s arms.
He had hurt her, wounded her pride, he knew that. Her safety was more important. His peace of mind was more secure knowing the risk of being his coya was no longer something he needed to fear.
Instead, he had only to fear that strange, quiet place inside her that he could feel growing darker. The animal knew it was there. Knew its mate was holding back, holding on. And it, as well as the man, demanded all of her.
He would have all of her. Or he would never survive it.
CHAPTER 21
Anya moved through the community room three days later, pausing to pick up newspapers, magazines and various items of trash that now littered it.
She’d been relegated to being a fucking housekeeper, it seemed. Nothing was picked up anymore, nothing was put away properly, and she was doing it herself. At least when Sharone, Emma and Ashley were with her, there were able hands willing to help with the process.
There was none of that now. She hadn’t seen the girls in three days, and she missed them.
“Jax, hand me your empty bottles please,” she asked one of the Coyotes sprawled on a couch as he watched the huge television mounted to the wall.
Jax leaned to the side instead to see around her, and gave her room to pick the bottles up herself.
“It would be easier if you handed them to me,” she told him with an edge of amusement.
His gaze slid back to her. “Be easier for me if you pick them up yourself.”
