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“I just want you safe,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against her shoulder then. “Just that, Cassa.”
She shook her head as she stared across the room miserably. “You can’t lock me up. And that’s what you’re doing, Cabal. You’re doing the one thing you would kill to keep anyone from ever doing to you again.”
He tensed, then slowly pulled back from her. The amber in his eyes glittered with anger. She’d pricked his arrogance, his male assurance that he knew what was best for her. She didn’t need him making such decisions for her, and she didn’t need his so-called protection.
“You don’t know nearly as much as you think you do,” he assured her, his voice harsh as he rose to his feet, towering over her. “This isn’t a case of wanting your goddamned independence, Cassa.”
“Then it’s a case of you wanting everything your own damned way, Cabal,” she burst out with, pushing to her feet and pacing across the room. “Look, just go to your damned meeting. I have work here to do, and I sure as hell don’t need your help.”
She stalked to her laptop, stared at the screen and tried to fight back the fear she couldn’t keep from building inside her. The fear that somehow the past was darker, harsher than she had ever believed.
The information she had found in the past two days on Douglas, information she hadn’t had before, hadn’t bothered to find, was beginning to give her panic attacks. Reports on the Deadly Dozen, from Breeds who had survived being captured by them, were violent, vicious. Among those reports were those of a single male and the horrifying acts he had practiced on the female Breeds that were captured.
Not just the acts, but also his pleasure, the joy he’d found in practicing them.
“You don’t need anything from anyone, do you?” he growled, coming behind her, his large body bracketing hers, shocking her with the sudden heat that poured through her.
Mating heat and anger didn’t mix. She could feel the blood pounding through her system just that fast. She could feel the heat of his flesh beneath his clothes, the warmth of his palm as it settled on her stomach.
“This won’t fix anything.” She tried to keep her voice strong, sure, but there was too much awareness, too much need for him.
She sucked in her breath as his fingers found the button and zipper for her jeans. They released, too damned slowly.
Cassa closed her eyes, drew in a hard, deep breath and fought the wave of dizzying need that assailed her.
It was always like this. Her nails dug into the top of the small desk as his hand slid into her jeans and found the wet heat between her thighs.
“You want me,” he accused her roughly. “How can it not fix at least this?”
Yes, she wanted him.
Her head fell back against his chest as his fingers parted the plump folds of her pussy, delved inside and filled her with the exciting rasp of his fingers caressing her.
Behind her, she could feel him releasing his jeans, felt the hard, jutting length of his cock pressing against her lower back, and she knew what was coming. She knew, and she couldn’t stop it.
“Bend over, baby.” His voice was rough, sensual, as one hand pressed against her back. “So sweet, Cassa. You make me drunk on the taste of you, the touch of you.”
If only she could make him fall in love. If only she could make him respect her. If only . . .
She bent for him instead, her upper body lowering as she braced her shoulders on the top of the table and felt her jeans and panties sliding over her hips.
God, this was so primal. Sexy. She had never been taken like this, hadn’t imagined she would want to be until she heard his broken breathing behind her and the heated little growls that escaped his throat.
“Fucking you is like flying.” The head of his cock pressed closer, slid through her juices and found the entrance it sought. “Like dying, Cassa. The sweetest escape in the world.”
Her back bowed as she felt the thick flesh pressing inside. Tingles of electric, ecstatic energy sizzled through her, inside her. They surrounded her clit, struck at her nipples. She trembled beneath the force of the energy and fought to keep from crying out as he stretched her slowly, easily.
His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place. She wanted to see his face, but she was feeling something she hadn’t felt the other times when she had lain beneath him. She felt more now. As though he were letting go of something he’d held inside.
His hips moved with a smooth, pumping rhythm. Each stroke of his erection inside her pushed the pleasure higher, pushed her closer to the center of sensation and bliss.
Cassa could feel herself tightening, close to coming apart with the pleasure. She was riding a sensation so desperate, so filled with ecstasy that she wondered if she could survive it.
She wanted to scream but couldn’t find the breath. She wanted to cry out his name, to beg, to plead for more, and couldn’t find the strength. She could do nothing but hold on to the wood of the tabletop, lift to her tiptoes and silently plead for more.
As though he could read her mind, he gave it to her. Harder, faster strokes. The thrusts of his cock inside her stroked hidden nerve endings, revealed others. It stretched and burned, and as the pace increased to a driving, desperate rhythm, her orgasm began to tear through her.
It exploded in her clit, ricocheted to her womb, then detonated in the center of her pussy and left her trying to scream, to cry out with such a surfeit of sensation that shudders began to race through her.
