Isabeau leaned into him until he was surrounded by her scent, until he surrendered to it and took her into his arms, holding her close to his chest. Her towel slipped a little, but that was all right with him. The feel of her breasts rubbing along his skin helped revive his body. Every nerve, every cell came alive.
"Marisa was my friend, Conner. But honestly, all I was thinking about was you." She tilted her head to look up at him. "Well, you," she hedged, "and maybe shooting boss-man Rio. Sort of accidentally on purpose. I think if he yelled at me one more time, I might have gone psycho on him."
He took a step, forcing her backward toward the bed. "And then he had the audacity to threaten you with a syringe."
"In front of everyone. He was lucky he didn't try it," she added.
His next step put the backs of her legs against the bed. He took the damp towel from her hand, gave her hair a slight rub as though he was drying it and then simply tossed it away.
"If I don't dry my hair, it curls everywhere. Little ringlets." She made a face. "And it's so long and thick, it takes forever to actually dry."
Isabeau made a movement as though to retrieve the towel, but he bunched her sarong in his fist and tugged until it slipped off her breasts, spilling them into his sight, before he took the entire towel from her. "I don't really think it matters, do you?" he asked, and bent his head to her breasts.
Her nipples peaked and she gasped as his hot mouth closed over one tip and drew it deep. His hand drifted down to the junction between her legs. "I like your curls. All fiery. The way you are inside." His fingers teased at the dampening entrance.
He sank down slowly until he was sitting on the bed, and tugged until she followed him. At the last moment he spun her around and bent her over his knees, yanking so that she fell over his lap, facedown, her buttocks exposed. He placed one hand on her upper back to hold her position while he surveyed her thrashing bottom.
"Very nice." His hand rubbed and massaged her firm cheeks until she was squirming breathlessly, her breasts jiggling with every movement, an added enticement he hadn't considered. His cock was being massaged with each thrash of her body, and her long, damp hair brushed like living silk against his thighs. "I could get used to this."
"Well don't," Isabeau advised.
But he could tell his hands were already working magic. He could see the evidence of her desire, her receptiveness gleaming between her legs. He worked his hand down the curve of her butt to the crease between her thigh and buttocks and rubbed as well, inserting his hand to force her legs farther apart.
She softened more, became pliant for him. He bent his head to nip at the soft flesh, several little love bites, all the while continuing his massage. She moaned softly when his fingers slid through damp heat. Her stomach muscles bunched and her body flushed.
"Does this feel good, baby?" he asked, spearing two fingers into her hot core.
Her body shuddered, inner muscles tightening around him. She was so responsive, so open to him, always indulging him and any fantasy he had. He hadn't started out thinking this was going to be anything but accomplishing an end, but now he couldn't have stopped his explorations if he wanted.
His hands moved over her possessively, paying attention to her thighs and buttocks, and then plunging his fingers deep. He found her most sensitive spot and teased and circled until she was lifting her bottom and riding his hand.
"Does it feel good, Isabeau?" His fingers stroked and caressed, exploring every hidden secret recess and shadowed hollow of her body. "Tell me."
Isabeau's breath came in ragged gasps. "Yes. Everything you do always feels good." She was truthful. The more she let him know what she liked, the better each time together was. She could never resist him. When he touched her, she felt alive. She'd thought to fall on the bed and just go to sleep for as long as she could, but the moment his hands touched her body, all she could do was want.
She never expected there would be something terribly erotic in lying over his lap with his hand holding her down and her buttocks being massaged and fondled, but there was a guilty thrill, a pleasure she had never considered. She could feel his heavy erection, hotter than a brand against her stomach. She knew this new position was arousing to him as well.
She wasn't surprised when his hand lifted and came down experimentally on her bottom. The sting sent warmth coursing through her. The smack wasn't hard, and she knew he'd test her response. She was as shocked as he was at the flood of liquid heat bathing his fingers. Every inner muscle clamped down around his fingers. His hand rubbed and caressed over the heat.
"What does it feel like?" He whispered the words, his voice a sinful temptation. "You have to tell me everything."
"Hot. The nerves spread straight to my clit. I can't explain it exactly, but there's so much heat, like a fire building that I can't stop."
"Do you like it?"
"As long as it's not really painful. I wouldn't like that." But she loved the massage and the way his fingers moved in and out of her--the way he explored her body without reservation, with his hands and mouth. He was cat, and it showed in his oral need to lap at her skin, to tease with the edge of his teeth and massage tactilely.
"Then I'm sorry, baby, but I have to do this." He withdrew his fingers, reached behind him to get the syringe. He pulled the cap with his teeth, put the syringe in his mouth and brought down his hand a little harder, hoping the sting would momentarily numb her skin. He plunged the needle in and pushed the plunger to dispense the antibiotic.
She hissed, a long, slow promise of retaliation. He wasn't a male leopard for nothing. He recognized a female cat's displeasure and he wasn't about to let her up until he soothed her and made her forget such an indignity.
"I'm sorry, beloved, but you refused even the doctor."
She turned her head to glare at him. Her eyes had gone cat, taking on the fiery glow of the night. In the moonlight she looked incredibly exotic, her pale skin soft and enticing, the perfect globes of her butt tempting and her red hair tumbling around her furious little face. His entire body tightened, his shaft painful and full.
"There was a reason for that, you dimwit. It's called a needle phobia."
"You told him you weren't allergic when he asked you," he pointed out. His hand began a circular massage to ease the ache and, if he was lucky, start a new one.
"A phobia isn't an allergy," she explained. "Now let me up."
She was becoming receptive to his attentions again but her voice said she didn't like it, she wanted to keep her "mad." He stroked his tongue across the sore spot and slid his fingers deep inside her again.
"You're so wet, honey." He withdrew his fingers just as she was pushing back against his hand to draw him deeper. "See?" He held them, gleaming with moisture, in front of her face. "Like nectar." His hand was back, massaging and rubbing. "I want you, Isabeau, are you going to tell me no?"
She shivered at the dark promise in his voice. The hand on her back eased and he allowed her to slide off his lap. She sat on the floor gingerly, afraid of sitting squarely on the offending sting. She looked up at him. The moonlight spilled across his face, giving him a softer edge in spite of the scars. She lifted her hand and cupped the side of his face, her thumb sliding along the groove of the deepest scar.
"Rio told me you got an infection."
His hand covered hers, and then he turned his head and pressed kisses into the center of her palm. "I've gotten them before and will again." His golden gaze burned into hers. "I took my shot of antibiotics without whining."
"You're just so big and brave," she answered, her smile faint and mysterious. Her gaze dropped to his groin, to the heavy erection, thick and standing up against his flat belly. Trailing her fingers with a light delicate touch over his shaft, she found her way to the sac hanging below, watching him shiver as she did so. "Yet one touch and you're trembling."
Isabeau stroked the pads of her fingers over his soft velvet balls, before she cupped them, rolling and squeezing gently
, all the while keeping her eyes focused on the center of his body, as if his every reaction was the most important thing in the world to her. His breath exploded out of his lungs when she leaned into him and licked gently, over and over, lapping at his balls and the base of his shaft while pleasure flooded his body and he hardened impossibly.
She sucked on him, again her mouth infinitely gentle. Everything she did was designed to please him. Her hands were back, caressing and stroking as she removed her mouth and went back to watching his reaction.
Conner absorbed the feel of her touch on his skin. She could transport him instantly to another realm just with her fingers. He observed her through half-closed eyes, watching the rapt attention on her face as she closed her fingers around his thick shaft, forcing a gasp of pleasure from him. She pumped experimentally. Once. Twice. Her gaze never left his cock. She studied the way it pulsed in her hand, reacted to the warmth of her breath on the mushroom head. When small pearly drops appeared she licked them off as if she was clutching an ice-cream cone.
Every touch, every stroke was feather-light, barely there, designed to torment him. There was a look on her face that shattered him--truly shattered him. She understood him. She saw him, the man and the leopard. She understood his drive to dominate and she accepted him for who he was. She enjoyed giving him pleasure. And she trusted him completely. Trust was in her eyes every time she gave herself to him without reservation.
She leaned forward and curled her tongue around the underside of the broad head, teasing his most sensitive spot, and looking pleased when his cock responded with a quick, pleasurable jerk, throbbing and pulsing in her hand.
He groaned, swore softly and buried his fists in her glorious hair, pulling her head forward, bringing her a little off balance, until his cock was poised at her mouth. He smeared her lips with those small pearly drops, and his heart nearly stopped when her tongue slid out to capture his essence, drawing him in.
"Open your mouth," he commanded softly. Needing her. Wanting her. Loving her. God, but she was brutal, a woman to hold forever.
She looked up at him then--her gaze meeting his, and his heart went into overdrive, pounding with the force of a sledgehammer. He watched her eyes change, go slumberous, drowsy, so sexy he groaned again and pulled her head right down onto him. Her mouth opened under the pressure and she sucked his cock into a tight, hot cauldron.
Her tongue began flicking and dancing around his burning head, stroking the underside until he swore he was going blind. The room actually blurred and little explosions went off in his brain. Electrical currents sizzled in his bloodstream, causing his body to shudder and another deep groan to escape. She lapped at him, sucked and flicked, never staying to one thing but changing constantly so he was always off balance and the sensations just piled, one on top of the other. She showed no sign of getting tired, but drove him to the very edge of his control over and over and then pulled back until he thought he might explode.
Breathing heavily, using the silken reins he held, he pulled her head up. "Get on your hands and knees."
Still holding him deep in her mouth, tongue working up and down his shaft, she shook her head, her eyes telling him he was ruining her fun. He pulled her off of him, holding her still, hands still buried tight in her hair, until she complied. She shivered as he knelt behind her and placed his hand between her shoulder blades, pressing her head to the floor.
The action raised her buttocks, those perfect globes and he curved his palms over her ass possessively. He massaged and kneaded and then slipped his fingers between her legs where moisture glistened. "I love how wet you get for me, honey." He rubbed the head of his cock back and forth through the soft folds, feeling her steaming heat, prolonging the moment, wanting her to push back against him. "What do you think? Should I tease you the way you were teasing me?" He bent over her, letting her feel his weight while he pressed his cock into her burning entrance.
She shuddered and made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. He felt the vibration run down her body and straight through her feminine channel. His hips surged forward and he felt her body give way for his invasion. Tight. Scalding hot. Always that little bit of reluctance as though she might not allow him entrance and then . . . paradise.
He just breathed her in, let her take him over, surrendering to her completely. It always amused him that she thought she was the one who surrendered. He was the strong one, the dominant male leopard, aggressive, taking her whichever way he wanted. Yet it was this moment, this first joining when love for her overwhelmed him. It shook him so badly that he always needed this one moment after he buried himself in her, to just give himself up to her--to the enormity of what he felt for her.
He began to move, a little shaken at the strength of his love for her. When he was like this, feeling as though he was touching the edge of a miracle, he preferred to be behind her where she couldn't see his face. Each stroke sent flames rushing over his body, licking at his skin, burning through his cock and spreading like a wildfire out of control until the sensations were so strong he couldn't think.
She moved her hips back to the strength of his rhythm, a hard, fast pace that was nearly brutal. She winced once and he immediately forced himself to stop, holding still in that exquisite cauldron of fire. "What is it, beloved?" he managed when his entire being wanted--needed--to continue.
She shook her head and wiggled. "Please," she managed, "keep going.">
"What hurt?" His voice was rougher than he intended, his throat nearly closing with the burning fire rolling through his body. Every instinct demanded he plunge deeper and harder.
She gave a small laugh. "My butt. The shot hurt."
He instantly shifted his angle so his body wouldn't slap against that small injury. "Next time," he said through clenched teeth, as he pushed deep, feeling her tight folds stretch around his invasion, gripping, making the friction exquisite. "Next time, tell me immediately when you're uncomfortable."
Isabeau suppressed her sassy comment, not wanting to risk a smack on her butt when she just happened to be in a vulnerable position. Besides, right now she didn't want him to ever stop moving. His fingers were hard on her hips, guiding the rhythm, setting the fast pace, rocking her with every stroke. She always lost herself in him, every amazing moment they came together.
She could feel her body building, always building, the sensations stronger and stronger until she was stretched as far as she could possibly go without breaking, wound so tight she thought there could be no more without snapping into a million pieces. Her body shuddered, every muscle quivering, contracting, gripping at the invader as he thrust deep again and again.
He buried the full length of his thick shaft, over and over into her aching, needy body. Her head tossed, hair flying in all directions, when his hard hands gripped her hips and held her still while he pounded into her, sheathing himself until there was nothing but the sound of their bodies coming together, their combined harsh breathing and the building fire at the center of their bodies.
She clenched her muscles around him, gripping him tight, stroking his shaft with hot velvet caresses. His cock, silk over steel, was like a spike driving into her deep, so hard, so hot, dragging over the bundle of raw nerves again and again as he stretched and filled her.
He suddenly slowed, his stroke pushing inch by fiery inch through her tight folds, a slow relentless piercing that had her moaning brokenly. She could feel every vein on the thick length of him pushing through her body until the large head bumped her womb and lodged like a burning brand.
"Damn, Isabeau," he hissed.
She couldn't stop herself from rolling her hips, tightening her muscles around him, squeezing and milking, twisting herself on that thick spike of pleasure invading her.
His breath exploded out of his lungs. He swore and gripped her hips hard. That was her only warning. He began thrusting like a jackhammer, impaling her over and over, driving deep, sending ripples of mind-numbing pleasure spreading through her,
the intensity growing and growing until it was all encompassing.
She cried out hoarsely, the sound strangled as she felt his release, hot and thick, explode deep into her, against her spasming, throbbing womb. For a moment her entire body locked down, every muscle contracting, clamping down hard, and then the release tore through her like a firestorm, building in intensity. She could hear the roar in her head, feel the scorching flames rush over and through her, her body quaking from toes to head.
He held her, whispering softly. "I'm sorry, baby, this has to be done."
His teeth sank into her shoulder, not the teeth of a man, but that of a cat, holding her still while his body trapped hers, still rocking with pleasure. Pain streaked through her shoulder right under his mouth, and then his tongue lapped at her, taking away the sting. She shuddered under that rasping tongue and turned her head to look over her shoulder. His eyes were all cat, golden and focused, so intense she felt another spasm in her womb.
Conner dropped his face against her back and rubbed, skin on skin, the shadow along his jaw grazing her skin roughly, sending more ripples through her core. He pressed kisses down her spine and slowly straightened until he was kneeling upright behind her, still holding her. "I love you, Isabeau. More than you can know."
He eased out of her body and sank down onto the edge of the bed, his legs shaky. She turned and crawled to him, her face flushed, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. She sat on the floor in front of him, looking up at him. Their gazes locked.
Her expression was so loving it humbled him. He didn't deserve the way she felt, that all-encompassing love, almost adoration, but he resolved never to lose it. He bent toward her and she immediately tipped up her face to let him take possession of her mouth in a long, satisfying kiss.
"I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, Isabeau."
"You do make me happy, Conner. When we're alone like this, and I have you, I know what I feel and what you feel. It's here in this room and it's enough for me."
Wild Fire Page 28
