by Lynn Graeme
She lifted herself up on her toes. His breath caught. Isobel’s lips were so close that they brushed his scratchy, unshaven jaw. He could feel her own breath coming in light, hot puffs against his cheek, the feel of her exhalations stirring his loins. Her scent was a heady, intoxicating mix that was already sending him reeling past all boundaries.
Her soft, full mouth, the same one he’d been unable to stop fantasizing about since the moment he met her, was a mere heart’s quiver away.
“Goodnight, Liam.”
She pushed harder this time. He resisted for only an instant before stepping back, highly aware of his erratic breathing. He could see Isobel’s nipples, diamond-hard, through her top and bra. It was all he could do not to cup the swell of those perfect round breasts in his hands.
She knew it, too, from the bright blaze burning in her eyes. Without another word, she turned around and vanished into the darkness of the night.
Liam stood there. He couldn’t hear past the rapid pulse drumming loudly in his ears. He couldn’t control the wild surge in his veins. He felt… .
Alive.
The realization felt damn good.
His mouth widened in a slow, predatory grin. He drew in a lungful of crisp, cleansing night air, and went after her.
*
Isobel couldn’t stop cussing out that damn wolf.
What the hell had gotten into him? How dare he pull that kind of stunt with her? He already knew she was on edge with craving. He knew, and yet he’d pushed with all the insolence of a—
Her senses halted her mid-seethe. She whirled around just in time to see Liam emerge from the shadows, bearing down on her.
“What… .” she began, but got no further when his large hand slid through her hair to cup the back of her head. The hot gleam in his eyes startled her into silence.
“We’re not done,” Liam whispered. Then he tilted her head back and covered her mouth with his.
For a split-second, Isobel considered hooking her leg behind his knees and sweeping him to the ground. When her hands rose to his chest and felt the hot shift of muscles beneath her touch, however, she couldn’t find it in her to shove him away.
She’d always been a chest woman. She loved the tight ripple of muscles on a man, especially a man hard-hewn by physical labor. She’d been able to treat Liam as distant eye candy, right until yesterday morning when he met her without his shirt on. That was all it took, she thought to herself with a growl. In the last fifteen minutes alone, outside his cabin, she’d found far too many excuses to touch him. Had to force herself to leave before she sank her teeth into the flesh right above his nipple and sucked.
His skin was taut in areas that were unblemished, rippled where they were scarred. Her fingers curled into the sprinkling of sun-gold hair across his chest. She couldn’t resist giving a hard tug.
Liam made a low sound of pleasure. He nipped at her lower lip, tugging at it with sharp, teasing teeth. Coaxing her to play.
What cat could possibly resist?
She curled her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to take in more of his taste. Liam took swift advantage. He delved right in, deepening the kiss as his tongue curled around hers.
The world stopped. In that moment, Isobel couldn’t see the night sky, couldn’t hear the crickets, couldn’t scent the dewy grass. All she could feel was Liam.
He devoured her. There was no other word for it. He tasted her fully and completely, holding her head at the exact right angle for his pleasure, his other hand roaming down to palm the curve of her ass. Isobel gasped as that hand slipped lower and squeezed, long fingers sliding right to the edge of her flesh where she was hot and wet with need.
She rubbed the sensitive tips of her breasts on the solid wall of his chest, eliciting his deep growl at the spark of friction it generated. His mouth grazed along the edge of her jaw, leaving hot kisses and nips in its wake. She couldn’t suppress a moan. By the sound he made in response, he approved.
His voice was rough in her ear. “I want in on that list.”
Her lips curled in an instinctive snarl. This time she did kick her leg around, tumbling Liam to the grass. He landed on his back with a stunned expression on his face.
She loomed over him. “You think I’ll roll over and give in that easily? You want a place on my list, you earn it.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her forward, cushioning Isobel with his body before rolling her underneath him.
Hunger snapped at both their heels as they yanked at clothing, sending cotton, denim, and leather flying through the air. The night was stippled with growls and snarls, harsh demands made with teeth and lips on bare skin.
This was purely physical. If he wanted her to use him, then by God she’d use him. She didn’t want a bed or soft, gentle wooing. She wanted to fuck him like the animal she was.
A quick twist of his knee separated her thighs, right as he covered her nipple with his mouth. He sucked, hard. She bucked, unprepared for the onslaught of sensations crashing through her. He gave one breast his full attention, laving, licking, and biting with ruthless intent. His other hand massaged her other breast, promising its turn next.
He released her nipple from his mouth with a wet pop. He stared at it admiringly, gunmetal gaze glowing with satisfaction.
“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured.
The ever-so-slight curve of his mouth softened his harsh features. Panting beneath him, Isobel wondered what he’d look like when he truly gave himself over to full, rich laughter.
Then she ruthlessly shoved that thought back. Shoved him back, planting him flat on his back as she straddled him. Her gaze greedily took in his magnificent, deliciously naked body. His shaft rose hard and demanding between them, the veins standing out in stark relief. He was thick and long, a bead of moisture already coating the tip. She wrapped her hand around his length, enjoying the hiss that escaped his clenched teeth. She spread the moisture around the head with her thumb.
“I’m the one running this show,” she growled.
Liam’s expression hardened. He instantly twisted and rolled her beneath him once more. He kicked her legs wide open and pressed his cock against her wet heat.
“Is that right? What you say goes?” The scars fanning out from the edge of his left eye gave him a sinister look in the shadows. “Do all your men obey your command like good little boys, hoping they pass your little test?”
He pumped his shaft over her slick folds, coating himself in deliberate preparation before pressing the base of him hard on her clit. The pure onslaught of pleasure caused Isobel to buck helplessly beneath him.
His teeth grazed the curve of her neck. “No, you want somebody who can match you strength for strength. Unafraid to meet you head-on. You want a man who gives it to you harder than you can possibly take it.”
A roll of his hips sent Isobel gasping. His eyes absorbed her every response. He took in every sound and nuance she made as her legs curled around his hips. She sank her nails into his shoulders, nails that were already threatening to turn into claws.
She stared up at him in challenge. “You’re the one who has to prove himself.”
That curve of his mouth returned, and Isobel repressed a shiver. Liam reached down and hooked her thighs over the crook of each arm, pulling her high and wide. Without breaking eye contact, he reached up and circled one of her wrists. He pulled her hand free of his shoulder and pinned it beside her head. He did the same with her other hand.
She didn’t know which turned her on more: the deliberate, methodical way he moved as he prepared and positioned her for his liking, or the intensity of his silent gaze taking in every beat of her response.
She lay there, panting heavily. She could feel herself throbbing where his thick cock pressed against her. He lowered his gaze and watched the way her breasts moved with each sharp intake of breath.
A dip of his head, a quick dart of his tongue, and Isobel writhed.
It wasn’t enough. The blunt head of his cock teased at her wet entrance. His hips moved in short, shallow thrusts, but he didn’t enter her. He refused to give her what she wanted.
Damn wolf was keeping her waiting.
“Move,” she snarled.
“In a minute.” He took her sensitive nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing out.
“Goddammit, Liam!”
He held her down, heedless of her wild demands as he explored and suckled every expanse of skin. Breasts, neck, chin, shoulders, mouth. He kept her hovering there on the edge, continuing to drive her mad.
“You don’t want nice and slow, now do you?” he murmured.
“No.” She pulled threateningly at his hands. She’d break loose of his hold if he didn’t give her what she wanted right now. “I’m losing patience, Liam.”
A low, dark chuckle. “Or maybe you need to learn it.” His mouth moved lower. One long, languid lick sent her writhing once more.
She could escape his grip. Roll him under and shove him inside her, ride him to full completion. Her completion. She’d leave him in the dust, damn wolf, see how he liked it… .
Isobel uttered a slew of profanities. She was sensitive, dripping wet, her legs hiked up in the air and restrained. She could smell her own arousal permeating the air around them.
So could Liam, because he took a deep breath. He enjoyed it, the bastard.
“How do you taste, Isobel Saba? Sweet or salty?”
“You’ll never find out if you don’t get a move on.” She arched up in frustration, trying to take the tip of him in, but the angle was all wrong.
He buried his nose in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply before nipping hard. “You realize a thorough test run involves a lot more foreplay.”
“Time’s too precious to waste,” she growled.
“Ah, but wouldn’t you like to find out what your candidates are capable of? See how well they can satisfy you?” A swirl of his tongue on her skin before his mouth rose up to meet hers. “See who can make you come with just their hands? With just their mouth?”
He ground his hips against hers, far too slow to get her off. The length of him slid easily between her lower lips, revealing just how wet she was. She gasped and tried to lift herself upwards, but she couldn’t, not with her knees over his elbows like this, the bloody wolf.
He gave her a light, tender kiss on the mouth. At another time, the kiss might’ve been soothing, but she was too hyped up for that now. He was denying her, and damn him for it.
She nipped at him, and he smiled in response. It was the smile that did her in.
She snapped at him viciously, perilously close to making contact and drawing blood. Liam’s head jerked back. He’d only just narrowly avoided her teeth.
His eyes hardened with deadly promise. In one swift move he released her wrists, rose to his knees, pressed his hands to the back of her thighs, and shoved his hot, hard erection into her.
Isobel cried out. Her body instantly went wild, arching uncontrollably. She shuddered in a desperate attempt to adjust to the feel of him inside her. Her muscles clenched in a helpless series of ripples around his thick length.
It seemed Liam had gotten the message, because he didn’t wait. He didn’t speak. He simply began driving into her in deep, rapid-fire thrusts.
She was so wet that he slid in and out of her with ease. The flat of his palms kept her thighs high and apart as he rode her hard, sinking into her hot, swollen flesh. Isobel cried out as Liam found that sweet spot inside of her that few men ever found on their first night together. He caught on quick, repeatedly thrusting and digging into that sensitive part of her with uncanny precision. Her hands shot up, nails raking along his wrists and forearms. No doubt she was adding to the marks he already possessed. He merely grunted, not even slowing down.
This was no gentle seduction. This was a wild and savage taking. There was nothing civilized about what they did here under the stars.
Lust pumped mercilessly through Isobel’s veins. Their bodies slapped together in a furious race to orgasm. Tension coiled tighter and tighter, stretching Isobel past the edge of where her desperate grip on control lay.
And then Liam lowered one hand to stroke her clit, and Isobel was lost.
She always knew the man worked well with his hands.
Her climax hit with brutal force. Isobel soared in a fierce explosion of brilliant sensations. She lost all control of her limbs, of what she saw, what she said. She was absolutely, immeasurably vulnerable in that moment in time, and she couldn’t even bring herself to care.
Several long moments passed before she gradually came back to herself. Her bones were pure liquid. Slowly, Liam’s face came back into focus. He was staring down at her, large hands still digging into her damp skin.
If he had looked smug at the response he’d elicited from her—triumphant, self-satisfied—Isobel would’ve hit him, no matter how good the sex had been. Instead, his expression was an unusual blend of fascination and … awe?
She felt her face heat with self-consciousness. Her inner muscles throbbed, still convulsing every few seconds around Liam’s hard length.
His hard length… .
Isobel swallowed. His eyes followed the movement along her throat. “You didn’t… .”
He shook his head. He carefully withdrew and turned her over. He pulled her hips back against him so that she rested on her knees, her elbows on the ground.
She was still trying to catch her breath. A soft caress down her bare back strangely soothed her. His breath tickled her ear as he reached around and palmed her tender breast.
“You come to me first,” he whispered. “You only ever come to me.”
Before she could make some half-hearted protest, Liam rose to his knees and thrust into her in one long, smooth stroke.
He was not gentle this time either. Isobel clutched at the grass beneath her, almost ripping the blades out by the root as he pounded into her. Her hands sank into the soft earth. Liam’s fingers curved over her hips, digging in so hard she almost came again.
The wet slap of flesh against flesh echoed sharply in the blue-black night, drowning out all other sounds around them. The rhythm was hard, punishing, a visceral flinging-down of the gauntlet.
Isobel could feel that immeasurable pressure start to build again. She tried to fight it, but it was no use. This time, as she spasmed violently around him, she felt the hot jets of Liam’s release kiss her in turn.
She couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She sank against the earth, still trying to control her shudders of pleasure. She felt Liam’s warm weight on her back, his breath harsh and heavy on the base of her neck. A sharp, helpless sound escaped her when his hand reached down to touch her where they joined. He quickly gentled his touch as he stroked her down from her peak.
Hazily, out of the corner of her eye, Isobel saw his other hand resting on the ground beside her head, taking most of his weight off her. She was mildly gratified to see that hand tremble.
He slowly lowered himself and rolled them both onto their sides. One arm cushioned her head, the other wrapped around her waist. Isobel waited only until she got her breath back before she rose on shaky feet and started collecting her clothes.
He stirred. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” She attempted to put on her bra, but the material teased her too-sensitive flesh. She gave up the effort. She could walk home in the nude. “Goodnight, Liam.”
His hand snaked out to circle her calf. His palm was deliciously rough with calluses.
“Isobel?” He sounded confused. His voice, rasping with remnants of pleasure, made her want things she wasn’t supposed to want.
She stared down at him, clutching her clothes tightly. She was an utter wreck of thoughts and emotions. She felt something shift, and knew at once with desperate panic that she couldn’t do this. She didn’t do relationships. She’d been fine the way things were. She hadn’t been looking for chang
e.
She couldn’t… . This wasn’t… .
“Goodnight, Liam,” she repeated. She backed away.
He let her go, his expression stark as she left him there, as she took her refuge in the comfort of shadows.
Chapter Seven
“Fuck protocol,” Jamal growled.
Isobel met his glare steadily. “The two-week leave period is mandatory, Jamal. You know that.”
Tubes shifted as Jamal glowered from his hospital bed. He’d been moved from the Council’s infirmary to Bloodhaven General’s ICU once his physical condition had been pronounced stable. The hospital staff could provide prolonged, intensive care here, which there was no denying he needed.
His torso and thigh, which had been surgically grafted and slathered in sealant gel to protect the injury sites, were now wrapped in shifter-grade Med-bands designed to speed up the healing process. Four years ago, it would’ve taken at least six months for the muscles and ligaments to repair and knit together, even given the shifters’ enhanced healing abilities. Now, thanks to advancements in the field of shifter medicine, Jamal was projected to show improvements in less than a couple of weeks.
If only everything was so easily healed.
The gel had been applied to his left wrist as well, but despite this and its thick bandage, a small crimson spot showed that blood was still seeping from the last time the dressing had been changed. Jamal’s hand had been ripped off at a jagged angle, further complicating his surgery. They’d managed to repair both his ulnar and femoral arteries, only just managing to stop the heavy loss of blood—a life-threatening situation on the operating table, if Isobel had heard correctly. The fact that Jamal was awake and in fighting mode right now was actually a good thing, in her opinion.
Her eyes wandered to that spot of blood. To his missing hand. A mocking reminder that there were some things medical advances couldn’t save.