He loomed over her, brooding, watching her, fury riding him hard. Pain eating away at his insides. He tasted loneliness for the first time. Rachael had done that, brought him back to life. She fascinated him, tempted him. Made him happy, sad, angry—everything all at once. And he was addicted to the scent and feel of her. Lust rose, a craving as dark as the fury swirling like a black, tumultuous cloud inside of him.
Rachael lay asleep on the bed. His bed. One hand was flung across his pillow, across the empty spot where he
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belonged. The thin cover was on the floor leaving her long legs sprawled across the sheet. She wore only his shirt, unbuttoned and open, exposing the creamy swell of her breasts. Her hair, as black as midnight, spilled across the white pillow in whorls and spirals, begging to be touched. She looked young in her sleep, long lashes forming two crescents against her skin. Her body lay open to him, soft and warm, an offering to appease the terrible hunger bum-ing in him.
He didn't feel gentle or loverlike. He felt wild and inflamed, his body's urgent demands riding him hard. He knew it was a part of his heritage, but intellect didn't count when he stood in his home, when Rachael lay naked in his bed, her body open and waiting for his. Rio moved closer, laid his weapons aside, never taking his burning gaze from her. Soft skin, lush curves, her breasts a tempting invitation.
Rio was already as hard as a rock, but looking at her while she slept so peacefully, so unaware of her vulnerability, he thickened and hardened more. He touched his erection, for relief, wrapped his fist around the throbbing demand as he attempted to walk across the room to her. Taking steps was painful with his body so full and tight. There was a roaring in his head. His body dripped with his lust, his belly burned with it.
Rachael shifted restlessly as if she instinctively knew she was being stalked. She opened her eyes and saw his face, dark with passion, etched with lust. With intent. With something beyond mere desire. His look set her heart pounding. Made her mouth go dry. Turned her body to a pool of hot liquid. His gaze burned over her, hungry flames that sent electricity sparking on her skin everywhere his look brushed.
He struck swiftly, his fingers circling her arm, a throaty growl sending a shiver down her spine as he yanked her up so that his mouth melded to hers, one hand at the back of her head holding her still for his kiss. Not a kiss, fierce possession. Heat rushed over her like molten lava, blossomed
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and burst into volcanic flame. He dragged her closer, crushed her to him, his strength enormous, wanting skin against skin, wanting to feel her body impressed into the heat of his. Breath slammed out of her lungs and into his. His kiss was hungry, savage, devouring her, taking rather than asking, as if his hunger knew no boundaries.
His arms locked her to him, so tight she felt his every muscle, every beat of his heart, every breath he took. She tasted lust. She tasted desire. She tasted his fierce pride and something else. Pain. She knew bone-deep anguish and she recognized it in him. She knew what he was doing even when he didn't. His mouth Was hot velvet, his tongue dueling with hers, a tango of breath and moist heat. He gave her no chance to breathe, to do anything but accept the firestorm in him. To let it wash over her so that she caught flame too, was pulled into a whirling vortex, a tornado of pure desire.
Rachael kissed him back, every bit as wild, allowing the greedy lust to rise in her, to match the fierce inferno raging in him. She gave herself up to him, her arms around his neck, holding him to her. He stole the breath from her body and used it for his own air. His teeth moved down her chin, her throat, taking small greedy bites as if he would devour her alive. Rachael gasped with the wash of sensation, her nails biting deep into his arms as she arched her body. Waiting. Aching. Wanting more.
His mouth, hot and insistent with demands, went lower still, closed over her breast and suckled strongly. She cried out, unable to contain the blaze sweeping through her body. She thrust against his mouth, her fingers finding his hair, closing in two fists, dragging him closer. She didn't want him gentle and considerate, she wanted him exactly the way he was, wild, untamed, driven beyond control, on fire with urgent need and ravenous hunger. For her. For her body.
His mouth took away sanity and replaced it with feeling. Abruptly he lifted his head, eyes glittering as he dragged the pillows and blankets beneath her hips. She could see
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his body, hard and perfect, every muscle defined as if carved from rock. His face was etched with dark hunger. His gaze dropped to the triangle of black tiny curls and her heart pounded wildly. There was an unspoken command in his look. A demand.
A wave of heat swept over her. She felt her body go liquid in her deepest core. Very slowly she obeyed that silent command, shifting her legs, opening them for him. The air on her slick, wet entrance inflamed her more. His fingers circled her good ankle. He bent her leg at the knee. There was a proprietary feel to his hand on her leg. He was much more gentle helping her with her injured leg. His hands went to her thighs, gripping, opening her wider, one knee on the bed between her legs. Not once did he raise his gaze to her face. He seemed fascinated with her glistening body.
She waited, hardly daring to breathe, her heart pounding in anticipation. She wanted to plead with him, weep with the dark passion riding her so hard. There wasn't an inch on her body that didn't ache for his touch. His tongue moistened his lower lip and she writhed with pleasure. He hadn't touched her, but the force of his gaze had. Arid it left her needing—craving.
His thumbs bit into her thighs as he wedged his shoulders between her legs, opened her completely to him. She knew what he was doing. Claiming her. Branding her. Making her his so that no one else would ever do. He breathed warmth into the seething pool of fire. She cried out, would have jumped away but he held her still, without mercy, for his invasion. His tongue stabbed deep, a weapon of wicked pleasure, lapping and licking and stroking while she screamed in a wild, endless orgasm.
"More," he growled ruthlessly. "I want more."
He pushed his finger deep inside of her, pressed deep while she thrust against his palm, while her body clamped around him, gripped in the throes of passion. He put his finger to his mouth, surged over the top of her, bracing his body with his arms. He ducked his head, leaned forward to
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suckle at her breast. Her body nearly exploded. She clung to his arms, trying to hold on when the world seemed to be spinning out of control.
Lying as he was, her hips cradling his, the head of his penis was against her wet, throbbing entrance. She tried to take him inside of her, but he held her still, waiting, pushing up her need, the sense of urgency consuming them both. Then he thrust hard, buried himself deep, driving into her velvet sheath so that her folds parted like the soft petals of a flower and she opened to him. He tilted her hips, urg-ing her to take all of him, every inch, welding them together in a frenzy of fury and dark passion.
He whispered to her in the ancient tongue of his people, admitting he loved her, that he needed her, but the words beat more in his head than in his throat. He drove her up higher and higher, pushing them both to their limits, a wild, tumultuous ride. He clenched his teeth against the waves of sensations, against the jackhammers tripping in has head, against the tightness sweeping through his body and the inevitable explosion that started in his toes and burst upward.
A tidal wave swept through Rachael, carried her up and up until there was no where to go and she was free-falling, imploding, fragmenting. Until there was no part of her that wasn't consumed by fiery pleasure. It licked over her skin and behind her eyelids. Flames rolled in her stomach and burned in her deepest core. Her body rocked with quakes, a riptide of sensations that went on and on. If she moved, if he moved, the rippling effect started all over again.
Rio lay over her, his head resting on hers, breathing deeply, fighting for control. Most of his fury wa
s spent in her arms. Rachael. Only Rachael would have accepted such a joining. Only Rachael would look at him with her heart in her eyes. No matter how tight he clung to her, she never pushed him away. Never said enough. There were questions in her eyes, but she didn't ask them, not even when he separated them. She simply wrapped her arms
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around him, turning a bit on her side to give him room, his head against the soft pillow of her breasts.
"You need sleep, Rio. You're exhausted."
He didn't say anything, just lay next to her, taking in their combined scents, listening to the endless rain. He found it soothing. The forest had stirred to life, animals calling out, insects humming, birds singing. The background music, always present.
Rio lay awake long after Rachael had gone to sleep. Fear choked him, nearly suffocated him. When had she become so damned essential to breathing? How had she managed to invade his life and wrap herself around his heart? He couldn't imagine his life without her. She was so warm and soft and perfect. He had memories of warm and soft and perfect and those memories turned into nightmares of blood and death and rage.
He wanted this to be his life. Rachael—her laughter, her courage, her moods and shifts of temper. Lovemaking as sweet and tender as he could make it or a fierce need that could only be assuaged with a wild mating.
Her breast was a temptation he couldn't ignore. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, then sucked the creamy mound into his mouth. It seemed a miracle to be able to lie with her, suckling her breast when he wanted, sliding his hand over her body to dip his finger deep inside of her. Even in her sleep she was responsive. Clenching her muscles around him, shifting to arch into his mouth deeper. She smiled, murmured something incoherent and tunneled her fingers in his hair. She slept like that, her body wet with wanting him, his mouth on her breast and his hand cupping her tight curls possessively, while her fingers were buried in his hair.
Rio woke to the feel of Rachael's tongue lapping at his morning erection. Her mouth was hot and teasing, her tongue playing over him, her teeth sliding gently, wickedly. For a moment she sucked him deep into her throat and he groaned, lifting his hips, helpless in her thrall. His eyes
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weren't even open and she was cupping his balls; he was already rock hard with her ministrations. He lifted his lashes to watch her. She looked like a contented cat, pleased and stimulated, her silken hair tumbling in curls around her face. She knelt between his legs, her beautiful derriere raised and keeping time with the lapping of her tongue. Her breasts were full, nipples erect. He watched his body slide in and out of her mouth, glistening wet, growing thicker and harder as he began to thrust forward and withdraw. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He meant to say it, but the words came out somewhere between a groan and a husky whisper. She did things with her tongue and teeth and her sinful mouth that drove him out of his mind.
She pulled her hot mouth away and replaced it with something cold and wet and sticky. Rachael smiled as she teased him with a ripe mango fruit, sliding it over and around him, thoroughly dripping the nectar over his bulging erection. He didn't mink he could get any harder or thicker, but she managed it. "Good morning. I thought you could use breakfast." She handed him the fruit and went back to licking, this time teasing with her tongue as she tried to retrieve every drop of juice.
Rio stared at her dumbly, shocked to find the mango in his palm. He lay back and took a bite of the juicy exotic fruit. It ran down his chin but he was too caught up in watching Rachael enjoying herself. There couldn't be another woman like her on the face of the earth. He found everything about her sexy, especially the way she enjoyed his body. She was proprietarial about it, as if his body belonged to her and she could do whatever she wanted. And right now she wanted to sit astride him.
Rachael didn't wait. Rio had suckled her breast on and off while she dozed, had pushed his fingers deep inside of her, keeping her wet and on edge and in need. He could do something about it now that he was awake. She'd been patient enough. She knelt over him and slowly lowered herself over his burgeoning penis.
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He gasped as he felt his body push its way into hers. She was tight and hot and slick all at the same time. She wanted control and he gave it to her, eating the mango she'd given him while she began a slow, sensual ride. Her breasts jig-gled with invitation as she picked up her rhythm, sliding up and down him with obvious relish. He dripped some of the juice over her breast, watched it run over the swell to the tip of her nipple. He leaned forward and caught it lazily with his tongue. His body was on sweet fire, and if she wanted to play he could oblige.
She opened her mouth. Rio fed her a bite, watched her chew as her body slid over his. Rubbed his with heat and fire. She licked his finger, her tongue curling around him in a sexy, explicit manner. He closed his eyes and groaned. He couldn't take much more. She seemed in no hurry, sim-ply pleasuring herself and him at a leisurely pace. The pressure started slow, he didn't even notice it at first, but then it began to lick at his skin, tighten his muscles and put every cell in his body on alert.
He tried to thrust upward to meet her body,-but she glared at him and he stopped. A flush spread over her skin until she glowed. Her breath came in small gasps and her nipples tightened. She reached almost blindly for Rio's hands. He had enough sense to take the last bite of mango and catch her, bracing her while she rode hard, grinding against him, bringing both of their bodies to a fever pitch. He met the rhythm of her ride, thrusting into her, bringing the last exquisite peak to them. They finished together, a whirlwind of pounding blood and rockets.
Rachael laughed happily and leaned forward to lick the juice from his chin. "You're a sticky mess. Luckily we have the tub still here."
"With cold water," he felt compelled to point out.
Her smile widened into a mischievous grin. "Well, I did heat it up a bit while you slept. It wasn't that difficult."
"You heated up bathwater for me? And I slept right through it? I never do that. I wake up at the slightest sound.
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You're ruining me, woman." No one had ever heated up bathwater for him. It was a tedious task. It had to be done on the gas stove if the fireplace wasn't lit. She had obviously spent a great deal of time on the task. Happiness burst through him like the sun rising.
"I hope I'm ruining you. What a marvelous concept." She collapsed, lying partially on top of him, her soft breasts mashed against his chest. He could feel her there, a part of him, taking over his heart and lungs, even his life, until he couldn't breathe without her. "Are you going to tell me what happened, Rio?" Her fingertips brushed at his hair, slid over his face, made every muscle in his stomach clench tightly. Her voice was very gentle. Her eyes too compassionate.
Rio tried a casual shrug. "It was a mission, just like every other." He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want her to ever see him the way the elders had. Stripped naked of all pride. Vulnerable. His life in their hands. Their disgust. Their betrayal,—or maybe it was his. He honestly didn't know.
"Not like every other," Rachael persisted. "What was different about this one?"
He wanted to push her away. He wanted to shift shape and run free in the forest. The urge was on him wild and strong, a rush of fur rippling as his muscles contracted, crackled and snapped.
"Oh no you don't," Rachael flung her arms around him. "You stay with me. I'm not about to let you escape. This is too important."
It was ludicrous to think she could hold nun. His strength was enormous, but she was looking at him with her large, liquid eyes and he couldn't bear to break her heart. Better his than hers. He tried to shrug casually, difficult when she was clinging like a monkey. "Joshua told me Drake was shot. I tried to get information, couldn't raise anyone on the radio. Two men tried to ambush Joshua and I had no choice other than to take them out." He looked
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away from her. She saw too damned much with those eyes of hers. "I killed them."
She said nothing, but her hand slipped into his.
"I had to get Joshua across the river and back to the village where there was medical help. I field dressed his wounds, but he lost too much blood and needed immediate attention."
"What happened?" She knew there was far more to the story than the bare bones he was giving her.
"Tomas and his men caught us at the river. I'd left Josh in a tree, hoping to get him across before Tomas caught up with us. I didn't want to take the chance with his open wounds in the river. If I stumbled, he could get a major infection." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Unfortunately, I didn't have any of Tama's famous green gunk to smear on him."
"So you left him in the tree and went to do what?"
"I have a pulley and sling I sometimes use for the cats, especially if the current is strong. I went to retrieve it, but Tomas snowed up. I winged a couple of his men, forcing him to get them medical aid."
"But he left someone behind."
Christine Feehan - [Leopard 2] Wild Rain.txt Page 26
