by Lora Leigh
“Inform Callan and Jonas that I’ll notify them when we’re ready to head to the meeting,” she heard Lawe murmur to either Josiah or Rule as they reentered the room.
“Will do,” Rule answered. A few seconds later the door opened and closed again, signaling their departure.
Diane moved to turn around to face Lawe, only to find him at her back, his head lowering, his lips suddenly at the base of her neck as he pushed her hair back, his tongue swiping over the mating mark left there.
A shudder of pleasure raced down her spine. Closing her eyes, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her to him as his lips moved to the side of her neck to the second mark he’d left on her.
A slow, leisurely lick over the small bite had her knees weakening and a whimper leaving her lips as frissons of excitement traveled through every cell of her body.
Diane couldn’t help but tip her head back to his shoulder, one arm lifting to allow her hand to curl around the back of his neck to hold him in place. Her eyes closed, her weight leaning into him as she surrendered herself to the exquisite sensations. Because she needed this, she needed him. Nothing else mattered and no other pleasure could compare to it.
“You’re breaking my heart,” he whispered, his lips caressing her, sending little flares of sensation to attack her nerve endings as he spoke. “The scent of your pain is killing me.”
She had to swallow back the need to spill out the anger she was working so hard to conceal.
He couldn’t help the instincts driving him any more than she could help her own needs, her own hunger to be more than just a mate.
She could only hide it within herself, arch closer to him and let the pleasure have its way as she hoped it covered the scent of whatever pain she wasn’t hiding effectively.
The hand that curled against the back of his head delved into the length of thick, cool black hair. It wasn’t as silky as it looked. There was a hint of coarseness to the feel of it, just rough enough to feel unusual, to remind a woman she wasn’t with a normal male.
Just as the rake of his teeth against her shoulder, the feel of his tongue, just the slightest rasp against her flesh, was just different enough, just exciting enough to sent a hard rush of sensation to ripple through her womb and clench around her clit with erotic pleasure.
Breathing in roughly as his hands slid around her waist and pulled the shirt free of her jeans, Diane barely restrained the moan that would have slipped free.
His hands touched the bare flesh of her midriff, flattening against it to stroke upward and curve around the aching rise of her breasts. The roughened pads of his thumbs stroked over the material of the bra, feathering over the hardened, sensitized tips sent erotic sensations slamming to her womb.
“I need you,” Lawe whispered, his lips trailing up her neck to her ear where he worried the lobe, first with the flick of his tongue, then with his teeth. “Let me have you, love.”
He didn’t have to ask. Surely he knew she couldn’t tell him no. Even if she wanted to. But even without the heat, Diane knew she couldn’t have denied him.
The very things that made her insane where he was concerned were the things that drew her to him. The strength and arrogance, the dominance and protectiveness, the honor that was so much a part of him.
He was so much more than just a man, and he held so much of her heart and soul that she wasn’t certain how to survive what he made her feel or the sacrifices she knew he wanted from her.
Turning in his arms, Diane waited for Lawe’s kiss. The warmth of his lips covering hers, his tongue flickering against them as the spiced-pear taste tempted her senses. The need for that taste, for the adrenaline-fueled arousal that would pump into her system, had her lips parting, her tongue waiting, flicking against his as her lips closed around it. Tucking beneath his tongue, hers rubbed and caressed, her lips tightened, drawing the hormone rich taste from the swollen glands as she moaned at the strength of the pleasure filling her.
The contradiction between the man himself and the taste of the mating hormone never failed to amaze her. He was one of the darkest, one of the strongest, Breeds she knew. Yet the taste of his mating kiss was sweet with a hint of spice. A taste of summer pears but with a hint of that vast well of sensuality he possessed that he kept hidden from the world.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers spearing into his hair to hold him to her as she arched closer, Diane allowed the emotions she kept such a tight rein on to rush through her senses.
There was no need to fight it now. There was no need to hide from him, no need to worry that vulnerability inherent in those emotions could be used against her. Because Lawe was right there with her. Lost to the hunger that flared through them, lost to the emotions that mating heat wouldn’t allow him to fight.
The feel of his erection beneath his pants, pressing into her lower stomach was a heated reminder of the pleasure to come. His hands, drawing her shirt upward, pulling it from her as he broke the kiss only long enough to dispose of it, was a sensual enticement.
Lowering her hands to push aside the light black jacket he wore, Diane tugged at the sleeveless black shirt, dragging it up his chest and pushing it higher as she tore her lips from his.
“Take it off,” she commanded, panting for breath as the need for him tearing through her, racing like a blaze billowing out of control, left her helpless against him. “Now. Get it off now, Lawe.”
He tore it off.
The broad, golden bronze expanse of his flesh drew her fingers, her flesh aching to touch him, to feel the sensation of the invisible, silken hairs that covered it, caressing her palms with a lush, erotic sensation.
“Get those fucking boots off,” Lawe growled as he pulled her back, then lowered himself to the wide, comfortable chair to the side to pull at his own.
She had hers off first. Then her jeans. Pushing them over her hips and thighs and kicking them to the side before he surged to his feet, his pants just clearing the heavy erection they had covered.
As he pushed them down she was there but not to help him undress. Her fingers curled around the thick stalk of flesh, stroking to the base. Lawe suddenly stilled, his body tightening as he gave a harsh growl.
Diane stared up at him. His expression was tight, his blue eyes like a living flame in his bronze face as he stared down at her, his jaw flexing, tight with the obvious effort to restrain the need to assert his control of the sensual battle.
Holding his cock with the fingers of one hand, the other lifted, the tips of her fingers trailing down his chest, the darkened flesh rippling as the muscles beneath tensed. The hard flesh pulsed in her grip. With each hard throb of blood through the heavy shaft it seemed to widen further as her mouth watered to taste the primal strength she held.
A growl, harsh and grating, escaped his throat as Diane bent, her head lowering, her lips parting to allow her tongue to swipe over the engorged crest, to taste the damp flesh, the salty male taste of his pre-cum before sucking it slowly into her mouth.
With her fingers stroking the thick shaft, Diane tightened her mouth around the head of his cock and sucked at it with slow relish.
Heavy veins throbbed beneath her fingers as he finally managed to shed his pants from his legs. His fingers buried in her hair, clenching in the strands and sending pinpricks of pleasure racing across her scalp as he tugged at her strands. His pleasure in her touch was obvious. Every muscle in his body was strung tight as those in his muscular thighs flexed powerfully, his hips jerking and burying the engorged flesh deeper between her lips.
“You make me weak.” He groaned. “Diane, sweetheart . . .”
He growled again as she tucked her tongue beneath the head and rubbed at the smooth flesh there, feeling the pulse and throb of excitement beneath it.
Sucking at it again, her head back, lowering over it, taking him as he moved in shallow thrusts against her lips, fucking her with a slow, heated rhythm that had the breath tightening in her chest.
Sh
e wanted him. Wanted to feel him covering her as he had before, taking her, his teeth at the back of her neck as he held her in place. She wanted to feel him losing himself with her, inside her, pumping inside her, that wicked, pulsating barb sending flares of sensation to erupt through her clit, her pussy, reducing her to a mass of pure pleasure.
She’d never imagined she could gain such pleasure from the act. That without the stimulation of having him touch her body that she could be burning so intensely for him.
She wasn’t blaming it all on mating heat, though she knew it played a part. She blamed it on the man.
It was all Lawe’s fault that the tug of his hands in her hair sent a pulse of sensation to tighten around her clit each time he tightened his fingers. That the rasp of his nails against her scalp had her womb clenching with a surge of pleasure.
She wanted him. With a power she hadn’t known a woman could feel, she wanted him like she had never wanted anything in her life. Like she had never known she could want a man. Or a Breed.
She tried to suck him deeper, take as much of him as she could. To give him as much pleasure as possible before they both lost control.
And the loss of that control was coming.
She could feel it in the way his fingers were kneading her scalp, pulling at her hair. Each swirl of her tongue around the head of his cock had it throbbing harder, seeming to thicken further in her mouth. And each reaction had her feeling the flames burning higher in her own body.
Her juices eased past the swollen folds of her sex, heating and dampening her clit as she tightened her thighs, desperate now for enough friction against the bundle of nerves to spark the release she was aching for.
The need clenched her vagina, the sensations, the building hunger for touch there, for the burning stretch of his penetration, accelerating her need until she was moaning with each shallow thrust of his cock past her lips.
With one hand wrapped around the thick flesh, the other moved between her thighs, stroked across the swollen, wet folds and found the aching bud throbbing between them.
“Enough.”
Before she could stop him Lawe pulled back, forcing her to release his cock as he drew her up, his lips covering hers again.
The kiss wild, his tongue pumping into her mouth before pulling back, his lips slanting over hers as he kissed her with hungry insistence. His hand tightened on her hips, then slid around, down, gripped her buttocks and lifted her to him.
Diane gripped his shoulders with desperate fingers as she tried to lift herself closer, going to her tiptoes, the need to have him inside her burning through her nerve endings. Every cell in her body ached for his touch, to feel his hands stroking over her flesh, his body stroking against her, his cock stroking inside her. The feel of the silken hairs that covered his body rubbing against her. She ached for the strength of his arms around her.
She ached for him. “God, Diane,” he whispered as his lips moved over her shoulder, his teeth raking with sensual intent before he took another heated nip.
Sensation ripped at her nerve endings, pleasure burgeoning inside her belly as she arched against him. Bending her knee she drew it up his thigh as she stood on tiptoe. The slickened folds of her pussy rubbed against the base of his cock, parted and exposed the swollen bud of her clit to the hot shaft.
“Your pussy’s so fucking hot. So wet and slick.” He groaned, the explicit words sizzling across her nerve endings as she felt him bend just enough that the head of his cock raked over her clit.
A shudder zapped along her spine. Her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulder as his lips were suddenly on hers again, his tongue against hers. Before she could capture his kiss, capture the tormenting stroke past her lips, Lawe pulled back. His tongue stroked down her neck laying a path of sizzling pleasure to her shoulder once again.
A nip at the curve, his teeth raking over her skin had a cry escaping her lips.
“Come here. I can’t wait, Di. Ah hell. Come here, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me, Diane,” he growled as he shifted, moved until he was settling into the chair once again.
Gripping her thigh with one hand he lifted it, pulling it over his thigh as Diane straddled him, the other gripping the base of his dick as his hips shifted and he pulled her to him.
“Take me.” He groaned as she straddled his hips, lowering herself and feeling the wide, blunt head of his cock as it parted the swollen folds of her pussy and began to press inside her.
A shiver raced up her spine.
“Too slow.” She moaned. She wanted more, she wanted all of him, and she wanted it now.
His hands tightened on her hips as he pushed upward, penetrating enough, stretching her far enough that her head tipped back, a desperate cry falling from her lips.
Lawe took swift advantage of the arching of her body. Leaning forward just enough to swipe his roughened tongue over the tip of her breast, licking and laving it as she twisted against him, forcing him deeper inside her.
His hands stroked from her hips to her back, pulling her closer, his lips surrounding her nipple, pulling it into his mouth and surrounding it with tight, fiery suction. As his tongue lashed at the tender, over-sensitized tip, his hips surged upward, burying himself to the hilt inside her as she cried out at the pleasure flaming through her.
His hands clenched at her rear as he began to move her, his hands lifting her then pulling her down, his hips surging upward, impaling her hard and deep as talons of sharp sensation blazed across her senses.
His cock stretched her, throbbed inside her, pushing her closer to that abyss of pure ecstasy that she could feel beginning to build around her.
Another harsh, deep-throated growl sounded from his throat as she felt her pussy tightening on the heavy flesh invading it, desperate to hold him inside her, to feel the throbbing caress deeper inside her.
Heat built around her, built inside her.
Rising and lifting herself, his hands gripping her ass, moving in rhythm with him, Diane felt the hunger building. The pinching stretch of his cock moving inside her pushed the need deeper, hotter. With each thrust through tissue sensitized by his touch, by the heat, by the arousal that seemed to climb further inside her with each thrust, Lawe marked her, took her with a hunger she knew she couldn’t live without now.
She was close, so very close, when he moved. Lifting her from him despite her sudden cry of protest, he turned her, pushed her to her knees in the chair and then moved behind her.
Between one breath and the next he had her where she had hungered to be. Covering her, his cock pushing inside her as he came over her, his lips taking stinging kisses of her neck as he began to fuck her with driving strokes.
The slap of damp flesh, the feel of him moving inside her, stretching her, thrusting powerfully into the tightening grip of her pussy, had her nails digging into the upholstery of the chair as she cried out in rising bliss.
She couldn’t hold back the sounds, she couldn’t hold back the loss of control. The ability to restrain herself, to rein in the sensations that pierced her, that urged her to give herself to him, all of herself to him, was gone.
It wasn’t mating heat. It wasn’t just the pleasure. It wasn’t the fear of her loss of independence or the fear of the loss of herself. It was the man. The Breed. It was the pleasure she had instinctively known was coming amplified by his insistence that he build on it. That he force her deeper into the blaze, that he brush her hair back from her neck, lick over the too-sensitive wound, then slanting his head, his canines pierced it once again.
Diane erupted into a release so blinding, so burning hot she lost her breath. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t cry out his name. She could only hold on as ecstasy exploded over and over as she felt the barb extend, felt it vibrating inside her, pushing over another blazing edge of sensation that only amplified the release.
She was a creature of pure, sensual sensation.
She was lost in him. Lost in a feeling that locked them together more firmly than the barb lo
cking them together. Held her tighter to him than any bonds, either natural or man-made, ever could.
Clenching, spilling her release to his, her pussy rippled around the penetration of his cock and the locking bliss of the barb. The sensations, the release that seemed to never end, then the clenching, pleasure-pain of her womb contracting as her vagina milked the flesh locked inside her, was overwhelming.
