Although, why had she reacted to him at all?
She shook her head, managing to figure out what he was about to say before he had the chance to say it.
“No,” she bit off. “You’re not my mate.”
He sighed like he’d expected her denial. “Your body’s telling you differently, isn’t it?”
Christie felt the fire ants return. God, they were driving her insane with the pinpricks of pain that retreated into a well of pleasure so strong it created an agony of a different and utterly unique nature.
She bit back a gasp but managed instead to groan out, “What did you do to me?”
“I didn’t do anything. You know I didn’t.”
She did, logically. He’d just laid there in her chair. She’d been the one doing something—she’d pulled out his tooth, dammit! But something was going on. Stuff like this didn’t just happen, for God’s sake.
“Then why am I—?” she cried out as her core began to burn. It was almost like hearing his voice, the man who had instigated this whole situation, was ratcheting up her body’s need.
Every part of her felt aflame.
God, how she needed.
“Let me up there, Christie. Please.” His pleas hurt her ears. He was a stranger, yet he was doing this to her—making her feel things no other ever had, not even her husband.
She shook her head at the thought, feeling like a disloyal slut. She was in control of her body. She was. So why did Christie want to heed its call for James Aston? Why was it begging her to let him come up to help her through this?
“Baby, please,” he whispered, and his words caressed her ear drums. “Let me help you. You’re mine. I protect and care for what’s mine.”
“I’m no one’s,” she denied on a snarl. “I’m my own.”
“No. You’re not. You’re mine.” Then, like an afterthought, he added on a whisper so soft, so gentle she wouldn’t have thought a man like him capable of it, “As I’m yours.”
That made a difference, crazy though it was. She sniffed, touched despite herself by his tone, and then bit off, “What are you going to do to me?”
A harsh chuckle traveled through the intercom. “I think you know, sweetheart.”
Her pussy clenched at the promise in those words. She’d never wanted anyone so much, needed them so desperately.
It was almost like it wasn’t her body that was in control, and she had to reason that it wasn’t. She watched as her hand lifted to depress the button that would let him in.
When the buzzer sounded, they both let out shaky breaths.
“I’ll be up in two minutes.”
His words were a vow, and she swallowed, saying nothing, desperate to heed his words.
Christie opened the door, incredulity hitting her at what she was doing. She was opening up her home to a stranger… someone she’d only met once, and in jail, for fuck’s sake. But nothing had ever felt more right.
The fire ants had been held at bay, almost as if her body was fundamentally aware that the solution to her problem was close at hand.
She whispered, “Please hurry,” but knew no one would hear her words. Hopefully, the man was in the elevator by now, coming to her as quickly as he could.
Standing in the hall in front of her door, she had a perfect view of the elevator. A tremor coursed down her spine as she watched, waiting for the ding to sound announcing his arrival. When it finally came, she half-sagged against the door jamb, relief hitting her that he was finally here.
When he headed out into the corridor, head turning left and right to see which direction he should travel, James spotted her and made a beeline toward her.
She was a sure thing—they both knew it. And yet he didn’t strut. He wasn’t cocksure. He didn’t prowl toward her with the smug surety of a man who knew he was going to get laid.
There was a wistful expression on his face, if anything. There was hope in his eyes and trembling in the smile on his lips.
“Hi.”
His voice was hesitant, and the cautious part of her approved of his behavior. His manner, his attitude, everything about him spoke of a quiet deference. He wasn’t going to lord this over her. If anything, she could tell he felt sorrow for what she’d been enduring.
It wasn’t like it was his fault, not really. He was a Shifter, and like the romance novels said—incredibly enough—Shifters had mates. If he hadn’t been in jail, which was his fault, they would probably have never met. It wasn’t like she ran in the same circles as The Nomads, for goodness sake.
Everything happened for a reason, she thought, even though the last thing she wanted or needed was a relationship.
She’d deal with that later. After the sweaty, hot, long bouts of sex.
Christie almost came at the thought.
Chapter Three
The sight of her, the scent of her, even the sound of her, were all marvels to him.
His senses rang with the glory of her, with the perfection that was his mate.
His.
No one else’s.
Made for him alone.
A shudder of longing curled through him. The realization he had a mate had been stunning to him ever since he’d found her, but actually being with her was more amazing than something he could have dreamed up. Mates weren’t a given; they were a gift from the Goddesses.
He didn’t know what he’d done in his life to deserve her. If he was being honest, he was certain he’d done nothing for so wonderful a gift. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t spend the rest of his life worshiping this wonderful creature who was his and no one else’s.
He reached out with a hesitant hand, desperate to touch her, to hold her… to know her scent, to recognize it deep in his bones. She quivered for a second before his fingers connected with her. It wasn’t out of fear but of need.
She’d had to endure close to three weeks without her mate. The mating call would have been driving her insane with lust. The instant her body had sensed his pheromones, they would have started messing around with her body chemistry. The only way to make her normal again was to claim her. Only his seed contained the requisite material to put everything back in order.
Christ, how he longed to make that happen.
When his fingers finally brushed her cheek, each of them let out a moan. Hers was breathy, earthy, a wistful sound filled with longing. His was deeper, urgent, loaded with a need that only she had ever inspired.
He cupped her jaw, gently caressing the soft line before letting his hand curl around the back of her neck. He felt as well as saw her drop her head, letting him take the weight of it as though it were too hard for her, and he accepted it with ease.
Mundo let his gaze drop to take her all in. He’d only ever seen her in scrubs, and her penguin jammies weren’t exactly what he’d been picturing her in over the last many torturous nights, but they suited her.
On no other woman could he have found flannel cartoon PJs sexy, but on her, it didn’t matter. She was hardwired into his system. He’d always find her attractive, come what may.
When she saw where he was looking, a faint pink tinge started blossoming on her cheeks. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“How could you have known?” His smile was warm, tender. “You look perfect. You look like mine.”
She licked her lips, her tongue peeking out before swiping along the tender morsels he longed to taste. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked breathily, her words and her tone like a stroke down his cock.
This woman brought him to his knees with little to no effort.
It should have freaked him out—either that or it should have pissed him off—but he was overloaded with the overwhelming sense of rightness he felt now that he was with her, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.
Rather than reply, he gently tugged her forward until she half-collided with his chest. Her hands came up to his pecs to soften her fall, and the instant they did, tension overtook his chest, inadvertently making the muscl
es bunch.
“God, you’re so strong,” she whispered, her nails digging into the tensed pec. Her hand continued to slide down, more and more until she was rubbing his abdomen. “You have a six pack.” The awe in her tone made his lips twitch. Whatever he’d expected from their first conversation, her delight in him wasn’t it. He’d imagined recrimination or reproach, heated bitter words... not this.
She ruffled up his shirt and pulled back a little so she could see what she’d bared, and her cheeks burned this time with color. “Oh, my God.”
Suddenly, she was in charge. The door slammed shut behind him—she must have nudged it with her foot—and he was pushed against its broad expanse.
He’d never been stared at like she was studying him. It was like a starved man staring at the world’s largest chocolate fudge sundae. He could see her visceral reaction to his appearance, but he knew it was more than that. It was hormonal, atavistic. He was made to attract her, as she was made to attract him. But it went deeper. Their blood sang for one another, and their hearts would eventually beat in sync.
This was more than sex.
This was more than lust.
This was everything.
Suddenly, every single sexual encounter he’d ever engaged in flashed through his mind. The women, tall and short, large and small, skinny and curvy, blonde and brunette… they skipped through his memories, some beautiful, others he’d pulled a coyote ugly on, but not a single one of them compared to Christie. With her penguin jammies, treacle-blonde hair that needed brushing, pert peach lips that weren’t glossy with paint, and the bright green eyes that had no mascara or liner to adorn them, she was perfection.
He saw her as he would forever see her before they hit the sack on a night from this point on, and what he saw aroused him as deeply as his abs did her.
The thought amused him, especially when she bent down and began to tongue the line of his six pack. Amusement swiftly fled as need uncurled through his system with the power of a bullet. The tension flooding him had his gut tensing all the more, an inadvertent move which had her moaning and pressing a kiss to his skin.
She scraped her teeth along a muscled pad then tried to bite. When she couldn’t, she murmured, “God, I want to eat you up.”
He smirked to hide his desperation. “Parts of me would love to be eaten up by you.”
Christie peered up at him, humor and arousal making her shamrock eyes sparkle. “I’m sure they would.” She dropped to her knees, putting her in perfect line with his dick. He looked down and felt like crossing his eyes when he saw the appreciation on her face at the prominent bulge behind the thick denim.
He was hard—had been since he’d hit her street. He’d scented her over the pervading stench of gas and trash, the polluted air of the city making his nose curl with distaste at the same time as his senses flared with the knowledge his mate was in the vicinity. But the arousal pumping through his veins now had him clenching his eyes shut in reaction to the sight of her, on her knees, staring eagerly at his erection.
She reached out a hand and trailed a finger down the line of his cock and then burrowed down to find the zipper. She unfastened it, and he breathed a little easier at the release in pressure. His jeans had been fucking tight. Then, she maneuvered the button at his fly open and jerked his jeans down. He flinched a little as the hard denim ran abrasively down the tender flesh of his shaft, but it was nothing to the sensation of her hand cupping him, her fingers gripping his cock. He tilted his head back and let it fall against the door, which he was certain was the only thing keeping him upright. A shuddery breath escaped him as she neared him. He didn’t have to be looking at her to know that she was closer than seconds before. He could feel her warmth, sense it, and then he felt her gusting breaths against his groin, another indication she was approaching ever nearer.
As tension flooded him, expectation making his muscles shudder with need, he felt like exploding the instant her lips kissed the crown of his shaft.
He hadn’t expected that. Not really. He’d thought to woo her. He’d thought he’d have to. But Mundo guessed he’d underestimated what two weeks of enduring the mating call would do to a woman.
Not that he was about to complain.
His eyes almost crossed when she opened her lips wider, slurping down until the entire tip was encased in her wet warmth. Her fingers were caressing his stomach, the pads digging into the wall of muscle as she tormented him with her mouth. She sucked down against the crown, and the intense pressure had a low cry escaping him. Months without sex and then two weeks of his own mating call, and he was hornier than he’d ever been.
Shit, he thought. He hadn’t been this horny when he was still a virgin.
He fisted his hands, feeling his short nails dig into his palms. If he wasn’t careful, he knew claws would spear through—his bear deciding to wrestle control from him so both sides of his nature could experience their mate’s touch. He would have loved to cup her head, to run his hands through her hair, to guide her down his shaft, but he couldn’t. Not until he was wholly in control, until he was certain he wouldn’t hurt her.
A groan escaped him as she took him deeper, wetting him with her tongue before slipping down. When half his shaft was in her mouth, he dared to look down and felt a red mist come over him when he saw she was looking up at him. There was a mischievous glint in the depths of her green eyes, but at the forefront was desire, need, passion.
As a connection arced between them, he felt his bear rise to the surface. He wrestled with him, and almost lost control when he saw her move her hands down to her pajama top. He sucked in a shaky breath as she began to unfasten the buttons, revealing her chest to him.
She had large breasts, pendulous with their weight, and big brown nipples his mouth watered to taste. Her belly wasn’t taut like the bunnies he’d last fucked. The soft pooch there would have once been unattractive to him, but on her, it made him think of warmth, of home. Of need… of lust… of want.
Maybe she saw his reaction to her was positive because she pulled out the tie in her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders in a cascade of blonde waves.
As her scent wafted up to him, his eyes drowning in her beauty, he almost didn’t notice that she was pulling away from his cock, her lips leaving him exposed.
He didn’t pout, but he was curious. About to ask why she’d stopped, she interrupted with, “I know this sounds crazy.” He watched her throat work with nerves. “I need you to cum on me.”
Shock flooded him, then understanding dawned. Sensing her discomfort, he whispered, “It’s because you’ve been waiting for me for too long. Your body needs to be marked.” He watched her nails dig into the soft fabric covering her thighs. “There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
She shook her head, but her gaze was aimed down at the floor and not at him. “I need you inside me more than I can say, but I need you on me more.”
He reached down for her chin, tugged it up so he could look her square in the eye. Her embarrassment hurt him. “You need never be embarrassed or ashamed with me. Whatever you need, we’ll do.” He hesitated and then took his shaft in his hand. He nearly groaned when he felt the wetness of her saliva on him and used that to lube his grip. “You might need more things you’re not comfortable with, Christie,” he warned her, his tone careful. “But there’s no need to worry. Whatever your body asks of you, I’ll answer. Where do you need to feel me?”
Her lower lip trembled as she moved her fingers across her upper chest, trailing the digits along skin he longed to taste and tease.
Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2) Page 59
