Dark Blood (Dark #26)(49)
Author: Christine Feehan

He thought he was in control, but she knew she was. This man belonged to her. His body belonged to her. She reveled in her ability to bring him so much pleasure. She wanted to give him more and more. Already she was dripping, filling the air around them with her call to her mate. Hot cinnamon-spiced honey trickled down her thigh and she couldn’t wait for him to lap it up.

His hips bucked again and again, barely giving her a chance to breathe. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered to her but pleasing him. Driving him wild. Giving him everything he needed to get past what she’d committed to doing. If this was his way, his show of domination, she would gladly accept it every time.

It didn’t have to make sense to anyone but her. She loved stroking her tongue along his shaft. She loved the feel, shape and taste of him. She craved his taste. She could use her Carpathian senses to breathe, taking him deeper until she was constricting him, strangling him, and he was swearing, gasping and burning with her.

Her mouth was red-hot. Her skin the same. That wealth of fire in her rose to match the fury in her wolf. She hadn’t been angry, but she had wanted him with every breath of air she drew into her lungs. She’d deliberately let him see that fire, knowing in his state he would mistake her passion for anger.

She had wanted him just like this—a firestorm burning out of control. She needed to feel his fury in the way he withdrew and then thrust deep again. Sometimes he just stopped, holding himself deep, his hands fisting in her hair while growls and soft cursing reverberated through her mind. That only added to her heightened pleasure. Her body responded with more liquid heat, the tension coiling in her so tight she feared she would have an orgasm without him inside of her.

His shaft swelled more and she felt as if she had swallowed a burning torch. Then he was gripping her even tighter while he roared again, his seed spurting hard over and over. He withdrew swiftly, before she could catch her breath, pushing her backward so that she tumbled to the ground, sprawling out in front of him. He was on her fast, revealing the wolf that he was, latching on to his prey with a growl.

He lowered his head to her burning center, and she screamed with sheer pleasure as he lapped up her thigh and straight into her core, plunging his tongue deep like a weapon. He took her over, giving her no time to breathe or assimilate his attack. He devoured her, eating her as though she really was his prey, drawing out the spiced honey he craved, using both teeth and tongue. Sometimes his fingers plunged into her and other times he held her open to him while he lapped at her ferociously.

It was a claiming. Nothing less. A declaration. She understood that. She understood his need to have her submit to him. She craved his wolf, the wild untamed creature that matched her own fiery nature. She could see the marks on her body from his hands, his mouth and teeth and she delighted in every one.

His mouth drove her insane with his tongue swirling through her heat, seeking more honey, pushing her higher and higher toward her elusive orgasm. His face, that beautiful, masculine face was stamped with lust, a pure dominant bent on teaching his woman a lesson. She reveled in the way he chose to teach her.

Her body shuddered again and again and she couldn’t stop the little mewling noises escaping as his tongue slid through her hot, slick folds. His soft growls reverberated through her sheath, adding to the pleasure rocketing through her. He sounded like a hungry animal devouring his dinner as he drew more and more cinnamon honey into his mouth. His eyes glowed, the pupils almost completely dilated.

Her head thrashed and her hips bucked against his mouth, but he simply held her down with his superior weight, his hands hard, framing her entrance and the treasure he sought there. He focused wholly on his meal, on driving her up that cliff and holding her right there, perched on the precipice but unable to go over the edge.

Each time she was close and tried to force him to let her soar, he held back, blowing warm air over the fiery heat until she sobbed and begged him for release.

You don’t deserve such a reward, mon chaton féroce.

She knew he would never leave her unsatisfied. Not ever. He was bursting with need himself, his shaft swollen and jerking. His hand already had begun to circle the girth casually as he glared at her. He sank back and turned his finger to indicate for her to get to her hands and knees and turn around.

Heart beating fast, she complied. She wanted him so badly. So much. She could barely think with the urgency of her need. He knelt behind her, taking his time while her body shivered and shook with such hunger she wasn’t certain she’d ever be sated.

Without warning, he pushed her head down and caught her hips, pulling her back into him as he drove forward, entering her fast, almost brutally. Her body, already so sensitive and needy, caught fire, the flames streaking through her like a lightning storm, lashing her with a fury of pleasure so intense she wasn’t certain she could survive the onslaught.

Don’t stop. Never stop. She couldn’t help herself. She could hear her gasping pleas and there was no way to stop her demanding cries. She needed the terrible gathering tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly to dissolve, and only he could do that for her. Zev showed no signs of stopping, not even when she sobbed for release.

Zev controlled her hips, holding her absolutely still so she couldn’t move, although she desperately wanted to. He thrust into her over and over like a piston, clenching his teeth against the fire streaking up his shaft and down to his balls. Even his thighs and belly were part of the rising inferno.

Each time he felt her close—too close—he backed off just enough to keep her from tipping over the edge. Her cries were music, his own personal symphony, adding to the firestorm building in his own body. He wanted her mindless with pleasure, stretched to the breaking point and maybe that little bit more so that each time they made love, he could take her to the next level. He wanted her to know who her lifemate was, the wolf, an animal capable of great love and loyalty, but also of intense passions and lust.

She chanted his name over and over, begging him to take out his fury on her body, wanting more, wanting to burn up in the flames, desperate to give herself to that ecstasy just out of her reach.

Tongues of fire raced up the walls of the caves. The ground grew hot, turning red beneath her. The droplets of moisture in the air glowed red orange, turning the small chamber into a furnace. Still he drove into her with wild abandonment, pushing her further.

Her body was hot to the touch, but nothing compared to the scorching heat surrounding his shaft. He felt the tension in her growing, coiling tighter and tighter. There was the beginning of desperation, a tiny shiver of fear that he might not stop before she went entirely insane. He stayed in her mind, careful not to push her too far.