Tied With a Bow

by Lora Leigh

  Her fingers tightened in his hair as he released the tip, only to spread his kisses down her torso as his hands stroked to her thighs and parted them slowly.

  Against the outside of her leg, Isabelle could feel the thick, heavy width of his cock and almost felt the fear that wanted to rise inside her. But there was no place for inhibitions as his fingers trailed higher, slid through the slick essence of her hunger then brushed against the curls that hid the swollen flesh from him.

  His lips moved to her hipbone, then to the other before kisses were scattered to the sensitive mound of her pussy. His fingers tucked against the slit as she arched closer to him, desperate now to feel his kiss, his touch, on every portion of her body.

  “Malachi,” she moaned, the dark, sexual tone of her voice almost shocking her.

  His fingers eased down the narrow crease between the folds of her pussy to find the hidden entrance where her juices pooled with silken heat.

  His finger rotated as he moved lower, lying between her thighs, his breath whispering over the swollen bud of her clit.

  That tiny caress, like a heated breeze blowing over the too sensitive bundle of nerves. Isabelle found herself jerking in reaction, her hands slapping against the mattress to curl into the blankets beneath her.

  His head lowered.

  Isabelle watched, entranced, as his tongue peeked out and licked over the tiny pleasure point with devastating results.

  “Oh God, Malachi,” she cried out, her knees bending and lifting, her legs parting farther as he drew her clit into his mouth and began suckling with quiet, hungry greed.

  She had never done this before. She had never lain so open, knees bent and thighs spread, and given any other man permission to touch her intimately.

  The fingers rubbing gently at the entrance to her vagina began pushing inside her.

  His lips and tongue were torturing her clit with pleasure, and as Malachi begin to push his fingers inside her, she felt herself unraveling.

  Two large fingers pushed in, twisting lightly, scissoring and stretching her open. She felt them rasp against the tender inner nerve endings and send impulses of pure pleasure racing through her.

  Every cell vibrated with the rush of sensation. Isabelle could feel the sensations coalescing, tightening, threatening to implode inside her as he began thrusting his fingers shallowly into the snug opening.

  She could feel the pressure on the fragile shield of her virginity as his fingers began stretching it, weakening it.

  “Malachi,” she moaned again as one hand slid beneath her rear, arching her higher to his lips and to the finger penetrating her sex. “It’s so good. It feels so good.” She couldn’t keep it in. She needed him too much. Needed every touch possible with every fiber of her being.

  He sucked her clit deeper into his mouth, his tongue rubbing against it now as the thrusting fingers began to move inside her with more demand, sending lightning-fast forks of sensation to tear through her womb, her clit and her pussy.

  “Fuck me!” She cried the words out, desperation laced with demand, but she had no idea where they’d come from. “Oh God, Malachi, I need you. I swear I’ve needed you all my life.”

  A growl rumbled against her pussy.

  Her pussy tightened on the invading fingers as they slid free of her, then Malachi’s head was lowering, his hands lifting her closer . . .

  His tongue pushed inside the dripping, juice-saturated entrance of her pussy.

  Like an erotic fire, his tongue so hot, so wickedly hungry, Malachi began to lick and stroke, fucking her with rapid, hard movements as Isabelle felt her body tightening, felt it bordering on mindlessness. A sudden, soul-deep implosion sent a cry racing past her lips as her orgasm convulsed her womb and had her screaming out in delirious ecstasy.

  Isabelle couldn’t stop the shudders or the hard, racking spasming of her muscles as the sensations seemed to go on and on.

  Malachi rose between her thighs then in a hard surge. As he moved over her, Isabelle felt the head of his cock tuck between the folds of her pussy. There, just pressed against her entrance, his cock throbbed and she felt a hard, hot pulse of what had to be pre-cum spurting inside her.

  But pre-cum didn’t spurt.

  Her eyes opened. Staring back at him, Isabelle felt it again, then felt a tingling rush of sensation that began invading the delicate tissue.

  She had been horny for him before. She had been on the verge of mindless masturbation the night before, even after she learned that no matter how she tried, she couldn’t find release.

  But now . . . this . . .

  This wasn’t simply arousal.

  As another heated spurt shot inside the swollen opening, Isabelle felt new sensations beginning to bloom in the flesh it touched.

  She would have melted to the floor if she hadn’t already been lying down.

  Pleasure increased a hundredfold, and as his erection began to fill her, to stretch the tender tissue to an almost unbearable tightness, Isabelle knew with utter certainty what the fluid was.

  The heated spurts weren’t pre-cum, at least not entirely. Whatever it was, it allowed even the tightest flesh to accept this incredible stretch and penetration, and to find the most incredible pleasure possible in his possession of her.

  Isabelle held her breath as she felt his muscles bunch and gather. He paused for a second, his gaze locking with hers.

  “Just watch me,” he whispered, his tone rougher than ever before. “Just watch me, baby.”

  He would have never attempted this at any other time. Malachi had never taken a virgin. He had never touched a woman who wasn’t well experienced and aware of what she was getting.

  But his mate. Sweet, pretty Isabelle had no idea.

  Moving over her, one hand gripping her hip, Malachi felt another hard spurt of the hormone-rich preseminal fluid as it filled her, no doubt triggered by the snugness of her pussy.

  Rocking back, he let her juices ease his way, let himself become accustomed to her before he took her virginity. Before he taught her exactly how different Breed males were from their human cousins.

  She was a virgin, he reminded himself as he pulled back again, his whole body on fire from holding back, from the slow stretching of the virgin shield inside her to accommodate a painless possession.

  God, it wasn’t going to happen.

  A growl, a groan of pure frustrated hunger passed his lips as he felt his hips push forward with too much force, with uncontrolled haste.

  The width of his cock pushed past the thin membrane and surged only a few inches inside her.

  Tight, tight muscles clamped down on his dick, flexed and rippled over the head as his teeth clenched and he felt like howling. Because he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell he could hold back now.

  Isabelle arched with a cry as she felt both the tearing of her virginity and a pleasure that tore through her, wrapped around her senses and tightened around her body with incredible bliss.

  Her sensitive inner tissue was clamped on the intruder penetrating it, the engorged head throbbing furiously as she felt another hard, heated spurt of the fluid erupting inside her.

  Her muscles tightened further as the nerve endings came alive with excitement. Forcing her eyes open, she stared up at him now, watching the savage planes of his face as his expression twisted with remorse.

  “So good.” She had to force the words out as sensation wracked her inner flesh once again. “Oh God, Malachi, it’s so good.”

  His hands tightened on her hips, his lips came down on hers, and as he drew back, Isabelle knew he had finally given in to the need tearing through them both.

  His hips began to move. His tongue pumped into her mouth as his cock began pumping between her thighs, shafting the delicate inner tissue of her cunt as it began flexing, clenching, fighting to hold him inside her.

  Wrapping her legs around his hips, Isabelle tilted her hips higher, angling her body to his as she fought to separate pleasure and pain, and failed.


  It was like being lost in a maelstrom of exotic, erotic sensation. Thunder and lightning crashed and clashed inside her body. Fingers of rapid-fire sensation, hot and extreme, raced through her, wrapped around her clit, shuddered through her womb.

  Every stroke inside the depths of her body sent her flying higher as the taste of winter fire and summer storm intoxicated her further. Made her hungrier. Made the intensity of the sensations something to crave rather than to fear.

  But no addictive kiss would have been needed, she knew. Nothing outside the touch, the taste of the man was needed. Because he was what she had watched the night for, and she knew it.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he growled again as he buried his lips against the curve of her neck. His hips were moving faster, the race to release suddenly consuming them both, tightening through them.

  Isabelle cried out his name, begged for it, demanded it. Her vagina was clenching convulsively, her womb tightening as her clit burned and throbbed with each rasp of his pelvis against it.

  Each stroke fueled the sensual fires already burning out of control. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she felt his teeth raking against the sensitive flesh between neck and shoulder. The skin tingled at the feel of the canines against them, at the sensation of his tongue spreading that heated hunger over it. He fucked her with male greed and a sensual intent to pleasure her. As he pumped furiously inside her, the width should have been agonizing with each thrust, and it was—an agony of pleasure. The sensations were torturous, the rising ecstasy rioting through her until she felt her body begin to explode from the inside out.

  It was like being immersed in a cloud of pure rapture. As though ecstasy itself had enfolded her, covering every inch and every cell, consuming her.

  She screamed. She heard herself scream.

  His teeth bit into her neck with a sharp burst of painful pleasure. Then, with a final thrust, she felt his release as it began overtaking him as well.

  The first hard spurt of semen as his cock throbbed and seemed to swell further. Then more. More.

  Her eyes opened as strangled cries of another release escaped her throat. That swelling, in the most sensitive part of her pussy, stretching the convulsively tight muscles and throbbing against nerve endings that otherwise would have never known stimulation.

  The stretching seemed never-ending until he was locked inside her, so tight she knew neither of them could escape.

  The blast of his semen jerked his body.

  His tongue lashed at the wound at her neck.

  And Isabelle knew, deep, deep inside, she knew, life would never even have the chance to be the same again.

  Chapter Six

  I would have lost hope, I would have lost faith.

  Isabelle lay against Malachi’s chest, her hand rubbing over the broad planes, feeling the presence of the pelt-like hairs that grew there.

  Breeds seemed to have no body hair, and in a sense, it was true. What they had instead was a superfine hair, almost invisible to the naked eye.

  It didn’t even feel like hair, but more like a finer, softer fur than his animal cousins possessed.

  It was warm to the touch, heated by his body and his tough, muscular flesh. His chest was powerful, incredibly broad, and beneath her palm she could feel his heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm that comforted her, even when nothing should have been able to comfort her.

  His arm was wrapped around her back as he held her to his chest, keeping her warm despite the chill that wanted to overtake her.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his lips moving against the top of her head as his fingers stroked her shoulder.

  “You didn’t hurt me.” And he hadn’t.

  The pleasure had been so incredible that she was still reeling from it, still trying to find her bearings as her mind fought to make sense of it.

  Once the thick, heavy swelling in his cock had receded, allowing him to pull free of her, Malachi had risen from the bed, collected a warm damp cloth from the bathroom and a dry towel and proceeded to clean her gently.

  She had blushed furiously. Hell, she was blushing now just thinking about how he had cleaned her thoroughly, even separating the folds of her sex and running the cloth gently through the narrow slit.

  “I was created to kill,” he suddenly said. “We all were. We were Breeds. Not animal, not human. When the rescuers liberated us, when Alpha Lyons declared our presence to the world, we learned that though God hadn’t created us, He had still gifted us.”

  Isabelle sat up and stared down at him somberly, watching the heavy sadness in his dark blue eyes as he stared up at her.

  Lifting his hand, he brushed the backs of his fingers against the side of her cheek before lowering them to her hip and curling them over it. As though he needed some small connection to her, no matter how slight.

  “How did He gift you?” she asked quietly.

  “He gave us our mates.” It was an answer she didn’t expect. “As far as we’ve learned in the past thirteen years, there’s only one mate for us. Created just for us. Emotionally, biologically, physically. We have a mate waiting for us somewhere in the world, we have only to find her.”

  A frown pulled at her brows. “That seems awful iffy,” she said. “What if you don’t find your mate?”

  He shrugged at that. “Then I would imagine we exist within that same vacuum we were created in. Alone. Knowing we can’t have children no matter how strong the desire most of us have for them. Only mates, it seems, can conceive. Only mates can ease the soul, help heal the wounds and battle the nightmares most of us endured to just survive in the labs. Now, we watch, we search, and though many of us deny it, we long for that mate, Isabelle. For that one thing in the world that was meant to be ours, that proves that though we were not born, we were at least adopted by a force greater than man.”

  Isabelle dropped her gaze to her hands as they lay in her lap, studying her linked fingers as she felt her chest tighten.

  His voice resonated with such dark memories.

  “Coyotes were created to kill their cousins,” he continued. “The Felines and the Wolves, we were to be their jailors. Our genetics were carefully chosen to allow us to lie, to cheat, to torture and to know no remorse or guilt.”

  She lifted her gaze once again. His expression was hewn from marble, savage with its planes and angles, the high cheekbones, the sharp angle of his jaw. He could have been a warrior from ages past rather than a creation of technology and of evil.

  “Are you trying to tell me something, Malachi?” she asked.

  His lips quirked with an edge of amusement. “I’ve searched for you for what seems like eternity, Isabelle. The night your gaze touched mine in that bar, I swore I felt you in my soul. Did you feel it? Did you feel something move inside you that you couldn’t explain? Something that, at first, you wanted only to run from?”

  She licked her lips nervously. “Yes.” She wasn’t going to lie to him. “I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t.”

  “And if you had suspected then, what happened in this bed earlier, would you have still run to me, rather than away from me?”

  “You think I found it distasteful?” she asked him curiously. “Malachi, I was begging, scratching and pleading. Those are not signs of distaste.”

  “Nor are they signs of acceptance,” he pointed out.

  She could only shake her head as she looked around the room and tried to get a bearing on what she was feeling.

  “I understand what you felt,” she finally said as she brought her gaze back to him. “I felt as though I had known you forever the second I met you. As though I could introduce you to my family and my world, and rather than becoming lost in the craziness, you would conquer it instead.”

  Something that had never happened before. Most of her interested male friends had run screaming the moment they were introduced to her family and saw the craziness.

  “But?” His lips quirked again, that little hint of mocking amusement and arrogance ma
king him appear so very sexy.

  “I didn’t say but.” She sighed. “I don’t know, Malachi. I didn’t imagine this happening.” She waved her hand to the bed, indicating the “mating” that had occurred. “I don’t know what you want from me, or what I’m supposed to want from you. Breeds aren’t said to have long-term relationships, so I really wasn’t thinking past morning.”

  He grunted at that. “You lie, even to yourself,” he told her. “I saw it in your eyes, Isabelle. When morning came, you wouldn’t have wanted me to leave any more than I could have gotten up and left you.”

  Was he right? Hell, of course he was right. It wasn’t as though she knew what to do with him now either, but Isabelle knew she had wanted a chance with him.

  “Whether or not I’m lying isn’t the point anyway,” she told him. “This mating thing is the point, Malachi, and I’m not certain it’s something I’m ready for.”

  But she could still taste his kiss, and she still longed for more of that vibrant spice and the hot taste of it. There was nothing that could have prepared her for this. Nothing or no one could have told her that this would happen, and she would believe it.

  “I’ve always been a creature of the darkness, Isabelle,” he sighed then. “Not a part of either world that I was created from. I’ve waited for you, knowing that part of you was out there, and longing for you with every fiber of my being. But I know that you haven’t.”

  But she had. She watched the night regularly. She had searched for him. She had known he was out there but she’d had no way of knowing who he was, or where he was. And now, she had no clue how to handle the situation she was in.

  “How does it work?” she finally asked. “Are the tabloid stories true?”

  “In some part.” He nodded sharply. “They’re stories we’ve leaked to the press ourselves. A propaganda war, if you want to call it that. To accustom the public to the knowledge before they learn it’s the truth. We’ll only be able to hide it for a short while longer now. This is the only way we have of lessening the threat mating heat could mean to the couples as well as those who haven’t yet found their mates.”