Predator

by Vonna Harper

  Not controlled or manipulated, as was happening.

  A shiver running from the base of her throat and over both breasts brought her back to the moment. Watching her, he pushed her shirt off her shoulders. Having her hands behind her had arched her upper body so her breasts were thrust toward him. When he dipped his head toward her again and ran his tongue over the swell of her breasts not covered by her bra, she moaned and hissed into her gag. Sweat bloomed on her throat and under her arms. Her breathing quickened, becoming a near pant.

  He continued licking, occasionally running his teeth over her flesh, sometimes pressing his mouth against her until, despite her attempt to remain still, she started rocking from side to side. If he asked, she couldn’t say what she was trying to accomplish, maybe nothing more than seeking an outlet for the energy building inside.

  That’s what it was, she decided when, finally, he granted her a break from his sensual assault. He was filling her with anticipation, turning her on, but promising nothing in the way of relief.

  “Like silk.” His mouth was so close to her breasts that his breath puffed over her flesh. “Your skin is like silk.”

  Her breathing snagged, then stopped. She waited, existing nowhere else, for his next move, his next words.

  “I knew I’d have to capture you. Otherwise, you’d run. I could imprint you with Cougar’s wisdom. I thought—during those days and nights when I waited for you to arrive—I kept thinking about what I’d have to do to accomplish my goal. I dreamed of having you under my control and being able to touch you however I wanted. Those dreams drove me crazy.”

  Leaning back, he settled his hands on his knees again. He was watching her, and yet he wasn’t, his attention maybe someplace deep inside himself. She shouldn’t care what this man who’d taken control of her was trying to tap into, shouldn’t want anything from him except her freedom. And yet…

  With a quick shake of his head, he brought himself back to the here and now. Alerted by his now clear gaze, she readied herself for whatever he intended to do next, but he was in no hurry to touch her or break down any more of her barriers and defenses. Instead, he took in her entire body, not with a lustful leer that would make her skin crawl, or the possessive look she’d seen on cats just before they pounced on whatever hapless creature they’d been stalking. He was simply taking his measure of her, maybe recording her form so he’d never forget it, maybe doing what he needed to assure himself that she indeed was under his control.

  Under his control. What a frightening, heady, and exciting thought!

  Damn it! What was she, some cow being led to slaughter?

  The thought spluttered and died when he pushed her shirt away from her ribs and waist. Once more everything tunneled down until there was only the two of them and what he intended to do to her. His eyes danced with what might simply be sexual excitement and yet seemed to be more, as if he was nearing the finish line after a long race.

  She knew he was going to touch her before he did, sank into something deep and dark and warm, an existence she’d never experienced or known was possible. She was no longer a separate person with rights and responsibilities, because he’d taken those things from her.

  He was in charge, taking over. His hot, magical fingers danced over her flesh, both touching where he’d touched before and exploring new territory. Instead of watching what he was doing, he kept his gaze locked on hers.

  Caught in his web, she couldn’t think how she might break free of his intensity. For long seconds, the dark message in those incredible eyes distanced her from her body’s response to a thumb running over her ribs, nails tracking light lines along her belly.

  Then, maybe because he knew how much power his eyes carried, he closed them. When he did, a wave of fear caused her to tense. Why was he denying her a connection she needed as much as she did air? Desperate to bring him back to her, she rocked from side to side and then tried to sit up. Opening his eyes, he easily pushed her down again, holding her in place by resting his forearms on her chest until she stopped struggling. Panting a bit, she waited and watched.

  “You’re starting to want me,” he said. “You don’t want to feel like that, I know. It’s just the beginning. No end in sight, no release or relief. Just anticipation. And me.”

  What are you saying? Oh God, what are you going to do to me?

  At length, he let up on the pressure. His fingers became like light kisses on her collarbone and the base of her throat. When he moved from there to her midsection, she sucked in a deep breath and held it, no longer just waiting, but half crazed with wanting him to go further. How prophetic his words were becoming! Her breasts more than filled her bra, and her jeans were tight against her belly and crotch.

  So gentle. And yet possessive. Painting her with energy. Promising more.

  Her hands were useless behind her, the circulation compromised because of her body’s weight, but even when her fingers tingled, she couldn’t think how she might change that. Everything had been reduced down to one thing—sexual energy. She needed more, needed everything he had to offer!

  Damn you for doing this to me!

  Perhaps he knew how much her breasts ached because he cradled them in his strong hands and pushed them up and in. Her nipples throbbed, the hardened tips rasping against soft cotton. “Please,” she sobbed into the gag. “Please.”

  He blinked several times, a slow unveiling of his emotions. He was turned on, she had no doubt of that, but where she was all raw, unwanted anticipation, he seemed to be in control of what he was feeling and doing. And he wanted everything to be about her, aimed at her.

  Damn you.

  Kneading, massaging, sometimes stroking the naked swell of her breasts, but mostly heating and igniting them despite the bra’s barrier. And then, when she was certain she couldn’t take it anymore, he unclasped the front closure on the sports bra. Her breasts spilled out, exposed and vulnerable. When he didn’t claim them, she blinked away the fog that had settled around her so she could focus on him.

  “You want this,” he said, his hands inches above her. “Tell me the truth. You want this, don’t you?”

  Incapable of lying, she nodded. And as she did, something primal lifted her buttocks off the ground, and she spread her legs.

  “Not yet, not until I’ve taken you down.”

  Fury again claimed her, and she tried to bite him, would have sunk her teeth into his forearm if not for the gag. Was that why he’d placed it on her, not to keep her silent, but because he’d understood how savage she’d become?

  “These”—nails as light as butterfly wings stroked her newly freed breasts—“belong to me now. What you feel is because I’ve decided you deserve it, but if you do something to displease me, I’ll take away your pleasure. For now.”

  How could she do anything? Confused, she willed herself to remain still and compliant.

  “At times you’ll hate me for what I’m doing, but I have no choice. Neither of us does.” That said, he unfastened her jeans and tugged down the zipper.

  All but on fire with anticipation, she nevertheless acknowledged that he was again talking about something, or maybe someone, with power over both of them. A prickle of awareness at the back of her neck caused her to once more take in what she could see of her surroundings.

  The trees continued to dominate, the sky all but hidden by the lighter green growing tops. Deep shade made it difficult to make out details near the ground. This time her attention was drawn, not to the hill, but to a large bush with several evergreens standing guardian just behind it. In front of the bush stood—

  No, couldn’t be!

  But it was. A cougar. Golden coat contrasting with the darker surroundings, heavy head held high as if the predator was sniffing the air. Small ears twitched and large potent paws splayed out on the ground. The thick, long tail slowly lashed. And the eyes—yellow and alive and intense, staring at her.

  The magnificent creature was larger than any of the half dozen or so cougars
she’d seen in her life, leading her to conclude it was a male in its prime. Its mouth was parted, revealing deadly white teeth. If they’d been closer to civilization, she’d be concerned that he felt pressured by humans, which could turn him into a killer of those humans. But remote as this area was, she’d be surprised if he’d ever seen anything on two legs before.

  Then was he simply trying to size up the newcomers to his land?

  “He’s here, isn’t he?” Stark’s attention was fixed on her.

  She nodded, her eyes asking questions she wouldn’t have the words for even if she’d been able to talk.

  “He’s real, and yet he isn’t; a spirit, my spirit, and soon to be yours.”

  What are you talking about? Damn it, I don’t understand—

  “I know you don’t,” he said, responding to her unspoken question. “Neither did I at first.” As he’d done once before, he swiped his hand over his eyes. “And I sometimes still fight his control over me. I can’t win. I know that. But I still want back the life I once had. The loneliness…”

  This beautiful and powerful man felt helpless because of what? Some damn cougar?

  Chapter Four

  He’s here, Stark acknowledged. Watching. Judging.

  Part of him wanted to walk away from the woman so he could stand before the animal that had turned his life into something he’d never believed could happen and ask for guidance. To be assured that his captive would soon join him in his journey. The rest of him, particularly his hard and lonesome cock, ached to make a lie of his promise not to take her against her will and immediately spill himself in her.

  So damnably hard! To be a man without the kind of relationships he’d once had was the hardest part of his new reality. In the past—he could barely remember who and what he used to be—he’d never forced himself on a woman. Many had telegraphed their willingness to share their bodies with him in exchange for him doing the same, and it had been enough.

  No longer.

  It was all or nothing with Mia. Either she surrendered or—

  Scant moments later, Mia could no longer dismiss the cougar as a simple animal. Thankfully, he hadn’t come any closer, but his stare became more intense, making her wonder if the creature was trying to capture her mind. Even worse, she swore she could read his thoughts. Thoughts? From a cougar?

  But what else could it be? The last thing she’d been thinking about just moments ago was how precious and endangered the forest had become. Her concentration had been on something far different—her spinning sexual awareness. Then that intense animal stare had changed things.

  “He’s reaching you,” Stark said, his hands resting on her newly exposed waist and his mouth so close she felt his heat.

  Eyes brimming, she nodded.

  “I don’t know how it happens.” He inched lower, fingers exploring her belly. “I now accept his messages and feel blessed because of them, but at first I wanted to kill him.”

  Shocked, she struggled to concentrate on what he was saying and not the possessive hands heading for her sex. As long as her jeans and panties remained around her hips, they’d prevent him from reaching what she had no doubt was his goal—but did she want that?

  How had everything become so complicated?

  “I had a job, a life.” He leaned closer, his body blanketing hers and blocking her view of the predator. “I wanted to hold on to those things, but he had a different use for me.”

  What is that use, and what does it have to do with— No, don’t! Don’t touch me like that! I can’t think.

  Now he was at her hips instead of her waist, hands splayed over her hipbones and easily holding her in place. Next, he dipped his dark head, the movement slow and graceful and excruciating. She knew he was going to touch his mouth to her navel, knew it in every vein and nerve ending. Waiting became delicious agony, a swirl of emotions ranging from anger because she had no say in what was happening to heady anticipation. She wanted, needed, craved the press of his flesh on hers. At the same time, she feared the consequences. The loss of will.

  Moaning, maybe growling a little, she tried to slide out from under him because as soon as he kissed her there she’d be lost. Lost! Growling back, he held her in place. His palms dug into her hips, pain and pleasure meshing together.

  And when she least expected it, he reared back, grabbed her jeans, and yanked them down over her hips. He didn’t stop until the denim was around her thighs, making it impossible for her to spread her legs. She didn’t need to look at herself to know what he was seeing: creases in her flesh left by the sturdy fabric, her pale belly and reddish pubic hair visible through the whisper of yellow nylon clinging to her pelvis.

  He growled again, and she thought she heard another growl, this one issuing from where she’d seen the cougar. She started trembling before Stark lowered his head again. Sucking in her belly made her lightheaded.

  Heat. So much heat racing through her.

  His mouth over her belly nearly lifted her off the ground, and when his tongue glided in and out of her navel, her hands curled into useless fists. Back arching, she offered herself to him. He rewarded her by raking his teeth over her stomach and starting a fire there. Desperate to touch him, she writhed under him. Undoubtedly he’d left her jeans where he had because he wanted her frustrated. Straining against the confining denim, she admitted she was that, and more. A twitching mess dependent on him for satisfaction. If she were free—damn, if she were free, she’d wrestle him to the ground and plant her legs on either side of his hips so that when she came down, his cock would slide into her starving core. She’d ride him like a cowgirl atop a bronco, spurring him on until he exploded inside her.

  But she couldn’t do that insane thing. Instead, she was reduced to impotent hip grindings while he licked and kissed, nipped and tongued. He confined his explorations to the area just above what her panties covered, the repeated teeth-scraping turning her flesh there so sensitive she half believed she’d shatter.

  She hated what he was doing to her, this relentless, intimate teasing, possessing what he had no right to, holding her against the ground and filling her pussy with liquid heat.

  And she loved his rough touches, his wet tongue, gentle mouth, and harsh teeth. She loved being all woman and white hunger.

  I can’t—can’t take—you’re killing—oh God, killing—

  Rearing upright, he rotated his neck as if working a kink out of it before focusing on her again. She couldn’t comprehend his expression, which frightened her, and although not having her nerves assaulted allowed her some small amount of control over her emotions, she needed back the heady danger.

  “Your body’s humming. Dancing. I love the way it feels.”

  You’re responsible.

  “You hate me right now. Having sexual heat forced on you isn’t what you wanted to happen today. But you need to be tamed. Remade.”

  Damn him for throwing his nonsensical words at her! But even as she raged against him and everything he stood for, she also admitted she’d never wanted anything more than what he’d just promised. Tamed? The word conjured up images of a wild horse about to be branded, but it would be worth it, if he also fucked her.

  Fuck?

  Yes, she acknowledged. That was exactly where she wanted this to go.

  Watching her with his predator eyes, he eased her jeans down until they encircled her knees. Lifting her head, she tried to look at herself, but he forced her back onto the ground.

  “No, don’t. Experience, just experience.”

  She wanted to do as he’d ordered, wanted to become an oozing mess ruled by sensation, but when he placed his hand over her eyes, panic grabbed hold, and she thrashed her head. For several endless seconds, he fought her, then let her see again.

  “Lesson learned.” He seemed to be speaking to himself. “You can handle being silenced and not being able to use your hands, but sight’s vital. I won’t forget that.”

  Her heart was still pounding, but at least she no lon
ger felt as if she couldn’t breathe. If asked, she wouldn’t be able to say why his blinding her had unnerved her so.

  “I was going to take things one step at a time, letting instinct rule me, not telling you what I had in mind, but maybe I was wrong. Anticipation. Not being certain what’s going to happen, but having some idea, keeps things from being more than you can deal with.”

  His tone, as calm as if he were discussing a weather forecast, might be designed to settle her even more, but he was wrong. Damn wrong. Not only was she locked into the sound of his voice, his hands were splayed over her panties with his thumbs so near her core she’d soaked the fabric between her legs. Hell, he could probably smell her arousal.

  “We’re going to have sex. But first, I want—I need you so hungry that you have to fuck as much as I do. All inhibitions cast aside, down to basics. Animal to animal.”

  She’d known he was going to pull down her panties before he did. The sudden wash of summer heat over her just-exposed flesh unnerved her more than having her breasts exposed had. This was more intimate, a point of no return, her cunt now available to him. Beyond vulnerable.

  “Something else I’m changing.” Lifting her head with one hand, he untied her gag. “It’s time for you to talk again.”

  Instead of taking advantage of her small freedom, she waited him out, certain he’d silence her again if she said anything that displeased him. But when he imposed no conditions, she relaxed a little.

  “Why me?” Her voice was rough-edged, something she couldn’t help. “I know. I’m here alone. But why me?”

  “I thought you understood.”

  “Understood what?”

  “You’re in tune with the wilderness, and it trusts you.”

  The wilderness was made up of living, but unthinking, organisms, but maybe she comprehended his meaning after all. Certainly she felt more comfortable in settings like this than anywhere else. “I don’t trust you.”