Everything he wanted.
"Take me.” Her voice was a low, husky growl.
The danger in it only increased his own desire, his own carnal need, and in one savage stab upwards he sheathed himself in to the hilt inside her, burying himself deep, breaking through an unexpected fragile barrier without hesitation to push through the gripping channel until he could physically go no further.
She was so hot, so tight, so wet. Shaque couldn't stop if he'd wanted to. Now he was in her, her sheath gripping him in a tight, slick clasp, he could only keep going. Every thrust was an erotic torment as her muscles clenched around him, making him work, and he relished it, shoving through the strength of her with force. He used the power from his thighs to thrust upwards, holding her hips tightly.
And he watched her through a haze of eroticism.
With every driving force of his hips, spearing himself deep inside her, Elyse moaned her approval. Head back, the thick, rich waves of her hair sweeping her shoulders, those sinfully full lips open, a flush of passion in her cheeks, she was the very picture of a woman being taken forcefully and loving every second of it.
But she wasn't content to merely be taken. He felt the strength of her thighs around him, the way she locked him to her. Even pinned against the wall, her hips caught in his hands, she worked him deep inside herself, using her muscles to clench, pull, and squeeze his engorged staff. Her short nails dug into his shoulders, then, mindlessly, she roughly soothed the sting with a slow, hard rub of her palms before gripping him again.
Her cries were unashamedly concupiscent, and he could see that she gloried in every hard thrust, the erotic battle between them as she sought to clasp him tight inside her, and he forced his way through the strength of her internal muscles.
She made him work, and he knew she loved the force with which he took her, as much as he loved using his strength to drive into her.
But it was there between them, the dominance, neither side giving too much, each trying to maintain control over the other.
Two predators unleashed in sexual heat. Two dominant people.
It made for mind-blowing sex, as far as Shaque was concerned. God Almighty, did it ever!
Suddenly he felt her jerk, not a passion-filled movement, and the sense of danger escalated. Her head tipped forward and he found himself gazing into twin, glowing red eyes.
Amazingly, it did nothing to ease his desire. His staff stayed stiff, and if anything, got even harder. As the danger escalated between them, so did his lust.
Hell, I never knew I was that sick! But it was a fact.
A fact that could very well get him killed any second.
Then again, he feared nothing and was always one to meet a challenge.
With one powerful thrust, Shaque buried himself to the hilt in her, using his body weight to lean against her and pin the lower half of her securely to the wall.
A low growl rose from her throat to trickle from her lips.
They gazed at each other, their chests heaving with every laboured breath. Joined intimately, the threat of violence in the air, the uncertainty of the next move increased the tension.
"Afraid?” Elyse's voice was lower, riding a razor edge between her own voice and something much more deadly.
"No.” Leaning further into her, Shaque locked their gazes.
The growl that reverberated through her was more lethal.
"No.” He brought his face closer to hers, never shifting his gaze.
The soft lips pulled up slightly, a glimpse of white teeth against the kiss-swollen redness.
"In fact,” Shaque breathed, “I find it a turn-on."
One slim hand came up and curved around the front of his throat, the threat very plain as she snarled.
Lust rode his own predator, made it rise to match hers. He craved her. “The beast is part of you, Elyse.” So saying, he thrust hard again, driving into her short and sharp, giving no quarter. Buried deep once again, he snarled softly back at her. “And I will have both of you."
The hold on his throat tightened, but he ignored it. He'd never wanted someone with such voracity, and right now, he didn't care to ponder it. Now he just wanted Elyse, mutant and all.
Elyse.
Pulling back, he thrust hard once more, and when she tilted her head down further towards him, that so-sexy snarl still on her lush lips, he caught her mouth, stabbed his tongue as deep inside as he could go, swiping through to take her essence and leave his own flavour behind.
And he swallowed the growl that burst forth from her, feeling it reverberate down his own throat as he kissed deep.
Dimly the thought occurred to him that she could very well rip his tongue right out of his head, but rather than make him retreat, his inner predator gloried in the danger and challenge.
Hips pistoning, he continued to take her, feeling the shivering sensations that started to increase in tension in both of them. The shivers turned to little shock ripples, the ripples to small shudders, the shudders to heart-pounding shocks.
Something changed in her, something seemed to withdraw. Her mouth softened, and her hand slipped from his throat to cup his cheek, her other hand coming up to curve around his jaw. Tipping his head back, breaking the contact of their kiss, Elyse stared down at him.
The red glow had faded to rim her irises, one blue and one brown.
"Shaque,” she whispered huskily.
"Elyse...” It was all he could manage when his jaw was clenched so tight.
Shudders deep inside her were causing her inner muscles to clamp down convulsively on his length, pushing him above sanity and awareness.
Lust, passion, pure rut was making him pump into her short, fast and powerfully. Wanting all of her, needing all of her, he wrapped his fingers in her hair, dragging her head down so that he could take her mouth again, kissing her as ruthlessly as he took her body.
Their panting breaths mingled, mouths eating at each other, and he wasn't sure who climaxed first.
One second he was pumping, straining, shoving into her as hard and deep as he could, pushing himself up that pinnacle that drew him so urgently. The whole time he felt her body straining along with his, her inner muscles clamping and pulling, milking his staff strongly.
The next second her scream was muffled in his mouth, his hoarse cry swallowed by her hot, honeyed cavern.
He pumped deep but his movements were shallow. Buried to the hilt in her, all he could do was pump and pump, hard and shallow and fast, then longer, pressing in, pressing up, and pressing Elyse's hot, lithe body between the wall and him as he emptied into her, his seed spurting out into her.
Simultaneously their mouths parted as they both arched their heads back, their impassioned moans filling the cabin as he gave and she took in an erotic climax that seemed to crash on and on and on.
Holding tightly to her, leaning against her, Shaque slowly drifted back from that light, fluffy, airy place he'd been floating around in so deliciously. The dreamy sensation slowly gave way to reality.
The cabin, the sweaty heat of their bodies pressed against each other, the scent of spent passion in the air.
Elyse. Elyse in his arms, her slim legs still wrapped around his waist. His face pressed into the floral fragrant curve of her neck and shoulder, a damp strand of her hair tickling his cheek.
Emotions churning, for the first time in his life unsure what to feel or say, Shaque lifted his head slowly, his cheek brushing against hers as she shifted, too.
Moving further back, he looked at her.
In her passion-flushed face he could see the emotions churning as confusingly as his own emotions churned. The soft, slightly unfocused haze of her eyes lifted, her gaze sharpening.
"Shaque..."
"Elyse..."
They spoke at the exact same instance and both stopped.
"Let me down.” There was no order to her tone, more of a statement, as she carefully unwound her legs from his waist.
The simple movement made them
both freeze for a heartbeat as Shaque realized he was still inside her. Deep inside her. And stiffening just a little as her snug cavern shifted around him. Oh, Christ.
Nine
She not only felt him stiffen inside her, Elyse saw his pupils dilate in unexpected pleasure and recognition. Almost instantly he blinked, his face wiped of all expression.
Placing his hands on her waist to support her, he stepped back, and there was no way in hell that Shaque could hide the shock of pleasure that rippled through him as his staff slid free from her vagina, sliding back between her highly-sensitized labia with exquisite slowness before finally separating from her body completely.
She didn't have to look down to know he was partially aroused again from just the actions. She could feel his semi-hardness against her thigh as he shifted to the side.
Her knees actually shook, and she took a few seconds to mentally regroup. Shaque moved fully to the side, turning away to stare out of the space shield into the cavern beyond.
Grateful that he wasn't looking at her, painfully conscious that they were both naked, that she was naked, Elyse started to move carefully across the cabin.
She'd just reached the door when he said coldly, “We'll be talking after."
Talking? She felt more like running and hiding.
Without answering, she left the cabin calmly—then ran to her cabin, her feet silent on the cool tiles of the floor.
Collapsing on the bunk, she buried her face in the pillow.
Oh sweet God. I didn't. I can't believe Shaque and I ... oh bloody hell! Gripping the pillow in her fists, she slammed her chin into it and stared at the wall. The wall. I let him take me against the wall. Let him? I was like a bloody animal, pulling and tearing at him, kissing him...
A tingle went through her body, a shiver at the memory of his unleashed strength that she'd always suspected was hidden within his leanly-muscled body had spilled forth.
It wasn't just his dominance, she'd always know he would be dominant, was dominant, but even now she could see the passion mixed with the enjoyment in his winter blue eyes, the sparkle of carnal desire as his predator had risen to match hers.
Match hers? Even the mutant threatening to break forth hadn't perturbed him. He'd taken her regardless, pushed and goaded her, feeding on her power. Revelling in being in her body. Taking her so powerfully, fighting her with equal enjoyment, but not hurtfully. Recognizing her own dominant nature, respecting it, knowing she wanted, needed, to be pushed, to be taken.
Was it fighting? Biting her lip, Elyse sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side and staring at the glow ball in the corner o the room. It certainly hadn't been fighting to win, not hard, hurtful fighting. It was more a wrestling of two equal strengths, two internal predators ... two dominant people. Neither of them could be submissive, but both had wrestled with carnal enthusiasm, made lo—had sex with rough fervour. Burned with hot covetousness. Took each other voraciously and ... damn it, yes, bloody-well loved every scorching, decadent second of it.
Hoo boy. I can still smell him on me. Clean, male, power.
Just the memory of it made her breasts tingle, her sheath spasm. And that just wouldn't do.
Getting off the bunk, she pulled a robe from the wardrobe and clean clothes. Slipping the robe on, she belted it tightly around her and strode out into the corridor. After all, she owned the damned ship, she wasn't going to be skulking around corners!
The corridor was empty, but as she neared the bathing cabin, she heard movement from Shaque's cabin. His door was open.
The shower was welcome, and she used the soap lavishly, washing the scent of the hunter from her skin, but unable to wash his seed from inside her body. Unable to wash the scent of him from inside her.
But she sure as hell could wipe it from her mind.
Frowning, she stepped from the shower and started drying herself, and caught sight of several red marks on her shoulders and base of her neck. Glancing down, she saw the faint red prints of his fingers on the creamy swell of her breast, and several bruises on her hips and thighs where he'd gripped her.
Marks of passion. Elyse screwed her eyes shut. Shit, shit, shit. Now what am I going to do?
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she felt a familiar trickle from her nose, and almost welcomed the diversion. Until she couldn't stem the flow of blood.
It kept trickling out, one crimson spot after another, staining the towel.
She had to get back to her cabin.
Blotting the blood, she dressed quickly, peeked out to ensure Shaque wasn't in sight, and hurried from the bathing cabin to her own cabin, where she shut the door and sat on the edge of the bunk.
And continued to blot the blood away.
It took several minutes to stop the bleeding, and when it finally ceased, she went to the table and shook out several pills from the bottle into her hand. It wasn't technically time to take a dose of her medicine, but she wasn't about to wait any longer, especially considering the lengthening bloody nose time and the fact that she'd almost turned full mutant while making lo—having sex with Shaque.
Rolling her eyes at the memory, she sighed and returned to her bunk. Lying back, she stared up at the ceiling. Really, she didn't need any more complications in her life.
And that meant Shaque.
* * * *
Phemar staggered back, his tattered robes swaying, little pieces of rotted flesh showering around his feet. With a hissing grunt from a ruined mouth, he braced one hand on the wall.
The Overlord watched in silence, one white hand stroking the hair of the slave girl that grovelled at the foot of his throne.
After several minutes, Phemar straightened slowly. “The mutant isn't far from the surface."
"You touched it again?” The Overlord wasn't pleased. “I said not until I was ready once more!"
Phemar shook his head. “This time I didn't touch her. I didn't brush the mutant. Something else brought it to the surface."
"Something else?” Intrigued, The Overlord stroked his hand on the gold head of the sceptre that stood upright in a silver sheath at the side of the throne. “What?"
"I don't know."
"Then what do you suspect?"
Phemar moved around the room, his shadow darker against the grimy stone walls. “I'm not sure. But something strong called the mutant up.” Stopping at the huge window that overlooked the torch-lit courtyard below, he looked down at the people walking past. “Something very strong."
The Overlord smoothed one white finger across the head of the sceptre. “Find out.” The slitted pupils dilated as he looked at his dark mystic. “Now."
Bowing low, Phemar left the chamber.
Lifting his hand from the slave girl's head, The Overlord moved his throne across the room, and she scuttled behind it. On the far wall, he pressed a switch and the viscomm screen flared to life.
Studying the immobile girl sitting with unseeing eyes on the richly ornate bed in the little chamber, The Overlord rubbed one finger across his lipless mouth. Maybe it was time ... maybe...
* * * *
The silence in the control cabin of the planet cruiser could be cut with a knife. Elyse refrained from looking sideways at Shaque sitting in the co-pilot's seat beside her. She didn't have to look at him, she could see his face in the reflection of the space shield.
Cold and controlled, it seemed as though their unexpected little rendezvous hadn't disturbed him in the least ... until one caught a glimpse of his winter blue eyes. They had a hot expression in them.
Keeping her own face composed, Elyse watched the planet draw closer. She admitted that she was relieved that he hadn't said anything since he'd entered the control cabin and sat beside her.
Having fallen asleep in her cabin, a surprise on its own, she'd actually slept for quite a few hours before awakening to discover that it was almost time to leave the hideaway and head back to Shyton on Vultan.
Without knocking on Shaque's closed door, she'd s
trode into the control cabin and started the engines. No sooner had they lifted off the ground than Shaque entered and sat beside her.
In silence.
Hooray.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and tapped the coordinates into the viscomm, and leaned back again, concentrating on the tunnel as they flew up and finally out onto the surface.
Wheeling the cruiser around, she came out from behind the planet and headed for Vultan.
It would take less than twenty minutes to arrive, but somehow she felt like it was taking twenty hours. The still, silent figure beside her was almost emanating rays of ... something.
"I'll head for Nerissa—Celia's—old shack.” Shaque broke the silence, his voice giving no indication of his thoughts.
"I'll go with you.” Keeping her mind on the job was a good move.
"They'll be looking for two of us.” He didn't take his gaze from the looming planet. “They won't expect one on his own."
"If you get caught—"
"I won't. I can move under darkness very well."
Fine. Just fine. “I'll stake out the end of the street.” Elyse smoothly steered the cruiser between two planet shuttles that were heading towards Vultan. “They won't be expecting us back anyway."
"Give me five minutes with the old man, and I'll join you."
"You do the shack, I could do the building.” Elyse glanced at him. “It'll be that much less time that we're on the planet, and that's a good thing."
His shoulders stiffened and he turned his head to look at her. Those winter blue eyes swept slowly over her face, coming to a stop at her lips, and it took all Elyse had to stop the flush from appearing in her cheeks. I never bloody blush!
Shaque finally said. “I don't want to be hearing alarms going off and have to come running."
"You'd do better to get back into the cruiser and get the hell away."
Shaque looked at her for several long seconds before saying in a cool voice so at odds with his hot eyes, “I won't be going anywhere without you, Elyse. We have unfinished business, and I don't mean killing business."
Soul of a Predator Page 22
