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There could be no pleasure greater than this. Her sensitive flesh rippled with the agonizing sensitivity. She could feel it, racing through her blood, traveling through her nerve endings and ricocheting through every cell of her body.
Just from the suckling of his mouth at her clit. His hands on her hips, holding her in place. The feel of his hair beneath her fingers. Electrical pulses of pleasure sizzled through her. She felt tight. She felt feminine and weak beneath his touch, beneath the need tearing through her.
“Mmm. So good,” he crooned, licking again rather than suckling her clit to orgasm as she needed.
Her flesh was so sensitive she could feel the perspiration beaded on it. The brush of his hair against her stomach as he drew her clit into his mouth once again. And this time, he meant business.
His tongue flicked over the tender bud, his mouth sucked it, until she went to her tiptoes in a cataclysm of pleasure so desperate, so deep that nothing emerged as her lips opened in a soundless scream.
She lost the strength in her legs, and he held her up. She lost the will to stand on her own. Her head tipped back, her hips moving until the exploding little bud was deeper in his mouth, his lips rubbing against the sensitive folds and the world dissolving around her.
“Mine.” Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, her upper body collapsing over him as her nails raked along his back.
He caught her, lifting her into his arms with a growl of triumph, and bore her to the bed.
She bounced against the mattress, rolling and coming to her knees. As he moved to come over her, she was waiting for him. She pushed at his shoulders.
“My turn.”
She was weak from the pulses of ecstasy racing through her, and yet the need, the hunger that had nothing to do with the mating heat, flowed through her now.
“Mine,” she repeated, lost in emotion and possessiveness, lost in the sheer perfection of his body, his touch, and the rising natural progression of what she had known was coming since she was sixteen years old.
And he went down for her. Naked, though she couldn’t remember when he had undressed, splaying out on his back, those wicked black eyes watching her, the hint of blue stronger now, reflecting in the lights that gleamed from within the wall.
Moving over him her lips covered his, took the kiss she needed, sucking his tongue into her mouth to take the last of the spicy taste from the mating glands beneath it.
She flowed over him, lips moving from his, her tongue licking over his flesh, her teeth nipping at the heavy vein in his throat as his neck arched.
“Yours.” The animalistic sound empowered her, sent a fierce rush of adrenaline and sensation burning through her.
Because he was hers. Her mate. Her lover. Her Del-Rey.
Her lips coursed over his shoulder. Her tongue licked over his collarbone, her taste buds going wild at the heady flavor of him. Perspiration and male excitement. It was rich, spicy, earthy. And she was addicted.
She licked at the flat, hard male nipples and felt him arch to her, felt his hands grip the thick strands of her hair, heard his snarl of impatience and let a smile curl her lips as she lifted her eyes and licked her way down his stomach.
“Coya,” he groaned. “My coya.”
“Your coya.” It was a promise, a vow.
His teeth clenched, the sight of the savage, curved canines at the side of his mouth only intensifying the visual pleasure.
She licked, lowered herself, sprawled between his thighs and let a hungry moan pass her lips. His cock stretched from between his thighs to his lower abdomen, thick and powerful, engorged and iron-hard.
The heavy crown was flushed, beaded and damp with pre-cum, awaiting her tongue. She licked over it, and approved his taste with heavy sounds of delicious pleasure. She licked down the shaft, ignoring the hands in her hair, urging her to return to the sensitive crest. She licked down to the tight, throbbing sac below the shaft, where she played.
Running her tongue over the smooth, hairless flesh she dampened it, then parted her lips and sucked delicately at first one side, then the other. His groans, the low, graveled growls, filled the room.
“My alpha,” she whispered as she moved back up the wide shaft. “My mate.”
And she accepted. There was no escape, because in her heart, she had no desire to escape. In her heart, where she had hid the dreams, the memories, the wants and the pain of loss, he had always been hers.
“Yours,” he snarled. “Now fuck me. Lose your control, Anya, because God help us if I lose mine.”
She smiled, licked over his cock head, then drew it into her mouth.
Yes, that was what she wanted. No control. Not his, not hers. Just them, together, flying out of control and loving every minute of it.
