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“Anya, don’t tempt this,” he ordered, commanded. He was so good with that commanding tone that she shivered at the promise of the retribution his gaze held.
She sucked him into her mouth, flattened her tongue and rubbed, sucked, milked the sensitive crest with her mouth. She lifted her lips slowly, let him watch as her tongue swirled over the head and she watched his eyes. She watched the wildness fill them, felt it fill her.
She had been born for this. Born to touch this man, to steal his control, to lose hers. Born to be his mate.
“No, Anya.” His hands pulled harder at her hair. When that didn’t work, they pressed under her arms, lifting her until she let her teeth bear down on the tight flesh.
He paused, stared down at her, his expression agonized.
“It will be like the first time,” he snarled. “Do you hear me? Like the animal I am.”
No, like the man he was, the glorious male creature that filled her fantasies and sent a rush of need through her, no matter the circumstances.
She let her lips grip him tighter, not in pain, but in warning, until his hands moved from her and gripped the sheets beneath him instead. His eyes glowed with acceptance, and with concern. His expression was savage, honed, flushed with lust.
She sucked him deeper, though the width of his cock made it impossible to accept much more than the brutally flared crest into her mouth.
He was delicious. A small spurt of pre-cum filled her mouth, and she relished it. Minutes later another. Del-Rey’s neck was arched, the veins standing out clearly on it, just as they did on his cock.
Another spurt, and she had only seconds to enjoy that taste before he moved. There was no chance to react before he was dragging her up his body, beginning to turn.
Her thighs clamped on his, her hips lowered, the slick, wet folds of her sex rubbing against the hardened shaft as he suddenly stilled.
The warning growl that filled the air had her smiling as she pressed her palms flat against his chest, slid her hips up until the tip of his cock was poised at the entrance to the desperate, hungry depths of her body.
“I take you,” she whispered. “For my mate.”
She pressed down, a whimper of ecstasy leaving her throat as the head pressed inside her, stretched her, opened her.
“My coya!” It was a snarl, a demand. His hands gripped her hips, his thighs bunched, and Anya screamed with the pleasure as he thrust inside her. Heavy, hard undulations of his hips had him buried inside her in three hard strokes, and he didn’t stop.
This was supposed to be her ride, she thought hazily. And she was riding, tossing, writhing above him as he lost the control she had felt chaining him before and gave her all of himself. Not just every hard inch of his cock, but his control, his sense of self, and the power of his hunger.
The heavy lunges burrowing into her stroked nerve endings so violently sensitive that she knew she wouldn’t last long. She could feel the pleasure tightening, building. She rocked against him as he stroked into her, shafting her forcefully, groaning her name, his hands holding her in place as she tipped her head back and screamed his name and rapture imploded inside her, then exploded in a brilliant, outward force that had her tightening further on him, her nails digging into his hard chest, her pleasure a creature tearing from her body.
No sooner did it ease than Del-Rey stiffened beneath her and it began again. She felt him this time though, the fierce swelling in the center of his cock, pressing the convulsive tightness of her muscles apart, revealing yet more nerve endings, more pleasure receptors, and sending them into ecstasy with the fierce pulsing throb of the knot that now anchored him inside her.
With each spurt of cum that filled her, the thick swelling rippled and pulsed against her, sending her shaking and shuddering into yet more pleasure. It was never ending. An orgasm that eased only to explode inside her again, leaving her shaking, shuddering, and collapsed upon his chest long before it finished.
Del-Rey blinked up at the ceiling long, long minutes later, still fighting to breathe as the last pulse of release tore from his body and filled the depths of the too snug, too hot silken flesh gripping his cock. Her pussy was sheer rapture. It was pleasure that went so beyond pleasure that there was no way to put a name to it. And just as he had the first time he had taken her, he had lost control within her.
There was blood on her shoulder where he had bit her again. He lowered his head and licked at the wound he knew would never fully heal. Not simply because he couldn’t keep from biting her when he took her, but because the hormones always filled that little spot, kept it sensitive, kept it ready for the pleasure he would bring her from his lips and tongue against it.
As he held her tight against his chest, his arms wrapped snuggly around her, he felt the fierce, secondary swelling of his cock pulse again, shuddering through him as she trembled in response and a low, broken moan came from her lips.
What the hell had she done to him? Surely something he had never known before. Never, even that first time that he had taken her, had he known this depth of satiation, this satisfaction that seemed to echo through every cell of his body.
Hell, a man, or a Breed, should never know this soul-deep sense of belonging. Because it was something he would always remember in battle, something he would always know waited to be snatched from his hands by fate or the cruelties of man. Losing this could destroy him. He would be no more than a broken shell of a man, and surviving that wouldn’t be possible.
He would follow her into death, Del-Rey thought. He’d be of no use to his people if he lost her, because nothing mattered as much to him as this one woman.
Love. He scoffed at the word. This wasn’t love. Love was his joy of a good steak, a hot bath. It was breathing in the mountain air and watching the mists in the valley. What he felt for this woman in his arms, this wasn’t love. It was something he didn’t have a name for, or a way to express. She was his freedom. She was becoming an extension to his soul.
“I have to move sometime this year,” she mumbled against his chest, sweat-dampened and still breathing hard.
“In a minute,” he promised, still locked inside her, feeling the fierce grip and rippling response in the muscles surrounding his cock.
“’Kay,” she muttered drowsily. “But lying on your ass all day isn’t going to get anything done.”
