He shifted on the bed, rising onto one leg to push her back to the mattress. With one hand still on his arm, half to hold him against her, half to steady herself, she reached down with her free hand and flicked open the button on his jeans. The zipper half-lowered of its own accord, the pressure of his erection against the fly too great. She helped it all the way down, then curled her fingers around his length.
Royce pulled back.
Billie whimpered and reached for him. She watched through lowered lashes as he shoved his jeans off his hips. Damn, he was a magnificent man. His balls hung large and full between his legs, his cock hard and long. Sleek muscled thighs reminded her of the horse she'd ridden, all that latent power just waiting to erupt. She spread her legs.
He glanced at her, no doubt able to see her slick labia. She reached for him, trailing her fingers along one lightly furred thigh. “I want you."
He bent one leg and rested it on the side of the bed. Leaning forward, he teased her nipples with his finger, swirling the digit around one, then the other. “We shouldn't, but you're so fucking beautiful.” He dipped his head and captured the tight bead in his mouth.
Crying out, Billie tangled her fingers in his wavy coal-black hair. She held him to her breast, flexing her fingers against the back of his head. The moist heat of his mouth against her nipple felt so damn good, and it'd been way too long since she'd been touched like this. “Royce,” she moaned as he palmed her other breast, rotating his hand against the nipple. Her legs moved restlessly on the bed, the wet heat of her pussy aching for his touch, his tongue, his cock ... anything.
He released her nipple and looked up over her body. “Easy, sweetheart.” He moved between her legs, his lean hips pressed so intimately against her own it made her cry out with want. The ride of his cock against her stomach had her gasping at the thought of him deep inside her. How could she take it easy when he burned her from the inside out?
He moved through the valley between her breasts, licking and sucking. He captured her other nipple, rolling it around his tongue, then released it just as quickly to rain kisses over her stomach. He stopped, his lips just above the neatly trimmed triangle of curls covering her sex.
"Please,” she whimpered, though she wanted his cock, not his tongue. Looking down over her body at him, his dark eyes glinting like black fire, the chiseled lips and chin that she knew would soon be coated with her juices, his broad shoulders between her legs, she knew she had fallen somewhere and probably lay hallucinating ... dreaming ... maybe even dead. It didn't matter, not if this sweet man would take her to heaven.
His head disappeared between her legs, his oh-so-mobile tongue licking the length of her labia. He delved between her folds to find the swollen bud of her clit and flick it with his tongue. Her hips bucked.
His big hands held her still, hands on the underside of her thighs. He lifted her, spread her legs until she had to make the most wanton of pictures. But when he licked her again, she didn't care because each touch was pure bliss.
Her world focused down on the movements of his tongue over her clit and labia. He speared her, finding the entrance to her channel and fucking her with his tongue. She wanted the larger penetration of his cock, but when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, she wanted only for whatever he was doing to never end.
"Royce,” she shrieked, her first orgasm hitting her hard and fast. Her muscles clamped down on the tongue invading her, her clit throbbing from the brush of his lips. The force of her release bowed her back off the bed. Her body undulated, each wave of pleasure making her soar higher and higher. A touch of his fingers, a flick of his tongue, and she crested again. With her eyes pressed closed, light flashed behind her lids, and she swore she was going to pass out.
Royce lifted his head. He set her back down and smoothed his hands over her thighs. His caresses calmed her, almost as if she were a skittish horse. He rose over her. The head of his cock nudged her, and she lifted her thighs to let him slip inside.
Instead of plunging forward, he held himself perfectly still. For a moment, she flashed back to the stallion standing on the ridge, his mane and tail streaming behind him. Royce could be that stallion. She sensed the same pride, the same ferocity in both of them, as if they both were tied to the land and knew it better than she knew herself. She shook her head and lifted her face enough to wrap her arms around him and capture his lips. As his tongue slipped into her open mouth, a quick thrust of his hips sheathed him inside her.
She met his thrust. The first connection of their bodies nearly drove her over the edge again. He filled her, stretched her, and when she thought she couldn't take him any deeper, he flexed his hips and went even farther. She moaned.
She clung to him as he pulled out, the absence of his cock evoking a whimper from her throat. He plunged forward again, and gladly she met him. The mattress creaked beneath their movement, the slight rap-rap of the bedpost against the wall a counterpoint to the slap of flesh against flesh. His scent filled her, a spicy, wild aroma that made her think of worn saddles and hot man.
Somehow, she knew this was what she'd been looking for. Out here, among the wild Nevada lands, chasing after wild horses ... this man in her arms and in her pussy embodied that wild spirit she longed to join with. And then, his mouth found the place where her neck met her shoulder and she couldn't think at all. She could only feel.
Soft whorls of hair on his chest brushed against her nipples. His thick legs between hers as he thrust into her, each thigh like a tree trunk, his strong body and muscled shoulders and back gave her something substantial to hang onto. And boy, did she need it, for he slammed into her, as hard and fast as she liked, and stiffened.
A hoarse, guttural cry erupted from his throat. His hips flexed. Deep inside, his cock twitched, and he came. The rush of his come triggered another, smaller orgasm from her, and she clung to him, trying to catch her breath.
Together, they collapsed on the bed. She didn't mind his weight, though it made breathing a bit more difficult. She closed her eyes and snuggled against him. How far beyond the walls did the flames crackle? What did Hank think? She didn't even glance for her camera, or her walkie-talkie, and that, more than anything, told her how much she needed this. How much she needed Royce.
As if aware of her thoughts, he breathed deeply and pulled his head back. He stilled, and she had the sense of the stallion standing on the ridge, his ears flicking back and forth.
"Your partner's coming for you.” He stood from the bed and strode naked toward the door.
"What about you? You saved my life. I'd like to introduce you to Hank.” Heedless of her nudity, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. The world tilted at the sudden shift in direction, and she sat back down on the bed.
"Maybe another time.” Royce opened the door and stepped out.
"Wait! You can't go out there naked."
When he didn't answer, she stood and rushed for the door. Grasping the wood, she watched as Royce took one step, then another. His form shimmered and the smoke gray stallion stood in his place. He turned and looked over his shoulder, his tail twitching. She could have sworn he winked at her, then bugled a triumphant neigh and raced toward the horizon.
Billie stepped forward. Rocks poked into her bare foot. There wasn't any way she could go out there naked. The sound of an engine interrupted her thoughts.
Dashing back inside, she shut the door and scrambled for her clothes. They were dirty, but nothing a good washing wouldn't fix. She'd tugged on her jeans and was almost finished buttoning her shirt when the door opened.
"Figured Royce would take care of you,” Hank said.
She gaped at him slack-jawed.
"Well, come on. You don't want to stand there catching flies all day. We got work to do."
She moved as if in a fog. “You know Royce?” She slung her camera bag over her shoulder, found the walkie-talkie and grabbed it though she figured she wouldn't get out of Hank's sight for the rest of the day
. Hell, maybe the rest of the month.
"Yeah. Figured it was about time you two meet. I used to run with Royce's father up here. Sure is beautiful country.” He opened the truck door and gestured to the passenger side. “We got some pictures to take today."
"No, we don't.” She surprised herself with the words that tumbled from her lips. “I'm going home, taking a shower and packing some gear. Then I'm coming back alone."
Hank laughed. “Thought it would be something like that. Let's go then."
She got into the truck, and they made it back to the gravel road leading to what passed as civilization. And she swore a steel gray stallion ran alongside the truck. “I'll be back, Royce Cooper. And when I see you again, I want some answers."
"You know he won't give them to you,” Hank's words interrupted her verbal musings.
She turned to her partner, sometimes mentor and grinned. “Yeah, but then I suspect neither will you."
"You're right, but you might have more fun trying to get Royce to talk."
Heat crept over the back of her neck and over her cheeks. Once again, she had to admit, the old man was right.
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Mary Winter
Mary commutes between her dream home near the Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri, and her current residence in Iowa. She lives with a menagerie of animals including an opinionated horse and a cat who was a dog in a past life. When not writing spicy tales of erotic romance, she enjoys writing science fiction and fantasy, spending time with her horse, and enjoying the outdoors. Lucky for her, her partner (hero) shares these same passions, and usually both of them can be found in their respective dens writing.
You can contact Mary at [email protected] or visit her site at www.marywinter.com.
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Mating Fever
Selena Illyria
The moons are full, and Courtney's trapped with Devin Langley—the man of her dreams. It's mating season for cat shifters, and she's in heat. Perfect opportunity. The only problem—she's been promised to another man.
* * * *
Trapped. Courtney was trapped in the new floating Deva Center with her boss Devin Langley and it was the night of the double moon rising. She glanced at Devin again and tried to figure out if fate hated her. Not only was she supposed to be at the double moon rising ceremony but she was supposed to be mated there as well. She was already in stage one of heat. If she reached stage four Devin would be in deep shit.
There were four stages of heat for her kind. Stage one was like having a fever. No matter the temperature, no matter how many ice baths a shifter took, her temperature remained well above normal. The second stage was the beginning of arousal, the third stage full arousal, and the last and most dangerous stage the overwhelming need to fuck.
She looked at the vid screen again and clenched her fists. A massive storm system was moving toward the landing pad on the surface of the planet below. All shuttles to and from the Deva Center were grounded. She had dreamed of being stranded with Devin in exotic locales, and in all those dreams he'd wanted her passionately, fucking her over and over again until they both couldn't move. But tonight was not the night for those dreams to come true. Her kind only shifted when the full moons were aligned.
But this year was special. This year she was to be mated. There were no males among her people. They had all mysteriously died out, so to continue the line, her feline pride took males from either the local populace or, more recently, males from the newly arrived human population. Tonight not only would she be given a man to satisfy her hunger but she would also be declared the next in line for the leader of her pride. She needed to be at that ceremony or her bitchy cousin Triska would take that honor. Fingernails digging into her palms, she jumped when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder.
"Jesus, you're hot. Do you want me to turn up the air?” That deep baritone with just an edge of roughness made her painfully aware that he was a man. The musky scent of his cologne, the hint of peppermint on his breath, and the sound of his voice all washed over her. Her stomach tightened, her sex pulsed, and her nipples became painfully erect. She gritted her teeth to keep from turning and reaching for him. She was entering stage two of her heat. She feared that by the end of the night not only would she not be next in line to rule her pride but she would also be out of a job.
Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and composed herself. Once she was calm enough she turned and faced him, a smile pasted on her lips. “I'm fine, it's just...” She had never told him what she was, and she suddenly felt very foolish for not disclosing her true nature to him. Opening her mouth, she tried again but all words scattered. Her brain stopped working when she saw he was unbuttoning his shirt, and his jacket was now a crumpled black mass on the floor.
"You're in heat."
She could only stare at him in shock and hunger. A new scent swirled in the air—desire, and not hers.
"Just so you know, I've always known what you are.” He slipped out of his shirt and let it fall to the ground, exposing taut muscle encased in tanned skin. His chest was a hard wall, topped with erect, brown nipples and washboard abs. Her mouth watered at the thought of licking and nibbling every inch of him. She watched as his hand rose, trailing fingertips down the center of his chest, over his abdomen to take hold of the bulge in his pants.
He stroked himself through the fabric. All she could do was watch as he stopped caressing his erection to undo his belt, slipping the leather through the loops and letting it fall to the floor. Next he popped the buttons on his slacks before pulling down the zipper. She could see the ruddy head of his cock peeking out between the teeth of the fly. With one shove, she saw it fully. Her knees nearly buckled at the sight. She'd gone from stage two of heat straight to stage four.
He was long and hard. Veins lightly roped his shaft. His cockhead was an angry red, the pearl of desire already decorating the slit at the top. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She hadn't realized she'd shoved up her skirt and taken off her panties until she felt a gust of cool air on her ass and between her thighs. Her fingers found the hardened nub that pulsed and ached with need, rubbing and pinching her clit, wanting to come.
"Oh no, you're not coming unless I'm inside of you,” he growled, striding over to her and yanking her hand away from her clit. The sudden loss of stimulation made her growl and hiss. Her mind and body were no longer her own as she lunged for him. He managed to stop her with one hand on her shoulder. Suddenly she was across the room. In the time it took to blink, he was with her, against her.
"I've waited too damn long for this. I'm going to fuck you, make you come over and over again, and then I'm going to claim you as my mate."
Those last words registered in her desire-fogged brain. “What the hell are you talking about? I'm not going to be your mate,” she hissed.
"Oh, yes, you are.” Dipping his head, he cut off her argument, mashing his lips to hers in a possessive, devastating kiss.
He needed to fuck. He was already in stage four of his heat. He had waited patiently all day for her to finally enter into her heat cycle. He'd planned everything perfectly, revealing himself to the matriarch of the Bastet pride as the leader of the Sirius pack, a race of planetary dog shifters. Like their fellow shifters they also had four stages of heat, and this was the time of the year they were most fertile.
Although with great trepidation, Alana agreed to the mating of Devin and Courtney. Once permission was given he had gone into planning mode. The storm had been a stroke of luck and now all he had to do was the fun part—mate.
His lips moved over hers, demanding her submission. He placed his hands on either side of her head and pressed his body against hers, feeling her curves against the hard steel of muscle. He thrust his hips forward, his cock slipping up and down her stomach, a light trail of seed smearing on her belly.
Pulling his head back, he panted, drinking in gulps of air, trying to calm his heart and just breathe. The scent of he
r arousal had increased. He could only guess that she was very wet for him. “We fuck now, answers later. I'm not capable of anything beyond fucking, understand?"
She opened her mouth and he smashed his lips against hers to stop any questions. Pulling back, he looked down into golden eyes edged with amber. “Fuck first, answers later, yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Good kitten. Now, on all fours, that sweet ass of yours in the air."
He stepped away from her and watched her walk toward a cloth tarp left on floor, hips swaying with every step. She dropped down on all fours and looked behind her. “Come fuck me."
He growled, made his way to her, and dropped to his knees. Reaching out he took hold of her skirt and ripped it off. Next to go was her shirt and then her bra until all he saw was an expanse of milk chocolate skin bathed in the golden light from overhead. Taking hold of her hips, with one thrust he was inside of her. He couldn't help but groan at the feel of her tight, wet sheath, clenching all around him.
Withdrawing, he thrust into her until he hit her cervix. He withdrew and then slammed home again, pounding her pussy at a steady pace. Her back arched and her head came up. He reached out and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling gently. She purred as her inner walls contracted around him.
"Fuck me, Devin. Make me yours."
Her hips pushed back to meet his thrusts. He pounded into her harder and harder, faster and faster, branding her, claiming her. “Mine, my mate, all mine,” he growled out, voice becoming more guttural with each thrust. He leaned over her, his hand slipping over her hip to slide between her slick folds and pinch her clit. She bucked underneath him and her pussy clenched around him. He slowed down his thrusts, leisurely stroking his cock in and out of her wet cunt.
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