Untamed Hunger

by Lee Mae

  His movements stopped abruptly, and her eyes flew open. She found Gunner staring down at her, a perplexed frown on his face.

  She rose up on her elbows. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

  “I was hoping you weren’t going to just roll over, and go to sleep on me.”

  “Oh, hell no. You’re not anywhere near finished.”

  “Glad to hear.”

  She caught a glimpse of a smile and a raised eyebrow, and then he was moving again, and all the sensations and heat and intensity were right there, building again, spiraling upward. It was hot and primal, exactly like Gunner, and just what she wanted, just like she felt.

  Claire ran her hands over Gunner’s shoulders, retracing the path she’d followed that morning what seemed like an eternity ago. Her fingers slid over warm skin, down the dip in his spine at his waist, and then over the curve of his ass. She brought her hands back up to his shoulders, and then, because she could, she ran her hands back down over all those hard muscles and smooth skin.

  The heat inside Claire built, her body taking on a life of its own, arching and twisting beneath Gunner. She wanted release, she wanted this to go on forever. She wanted everything.

  It was Gunner who took her—pushed her—over the edge. He slipped an arm beneath one knee, pulling her leg high, changing all the angles and trajectories, finding some deeply hidden place, lighting a totally new fire.

  There was a sudden thrashing of arms and legs, his mouth on hers, crushed against her in a violent, wonderful kiss and then she was flying apart, fingers dug into the mattress. The room, the bed beneath her all disappeared. Her only point of contact with the world was Gunner, his body, his heat, his breath hot and loud in her ear.

  He jerked away abruptly, cried out, his body pulling away. She opened her eyes and saw him above her, head thrown back, muscles looking like they were carved in stone, even as her own climax continued.

  Then his body shuddered and he thrust hard, filling her with such a sweet hot liquid heat she thought she would melt from the inside out. She rocked her hips up, meeting Gunner fully, taking him in, accepting every thrust, every movement, everything he had to give.

  He finally collapsed against her, face buried against her neck, and she wrapped her arms around him, fingers twined in his hair, murmuring wordless sounds as she rocked him against her.

  They stayed like that, locked in an embrace Claire thought was heaven on earth. The room had grown dim, and she wondered idly if it was already night. But in the distance she heard thunder, then the spatter and hiss of the first raindrops hitting the large window. A flash of muted lightning briefly illuminated the room, then the rain started in earnest, pounding down on the metal roof of the cabin.

  Gunner rolled away, and Claire made a small sound of regret.

  “I’m not going far. Come here.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her against him. She fitted her curves against the planes of his body, and they fit perfectly. Head on his chest, she closed her eyes, the scent of their lovemaking rising around them, the best perfume in the world.

  The rain lulled her into a drowsy state, but one loud boom of thunder brought her wide awake. Along with wakefulness came the image of Adrian, bursting through the door. She jerked, and Gunner’s arm immediately tightened around her.

  “You’re fine. Just the storm. It’s a big one, but I think it’ll pass pretty quickly.”

  She relaxed, letting his voice, his words, soothe her. Closing her eyes, she gave in to sleep, for real this time, and it covered her like a favorite blanket, the sounds of the storm now of no consequence. The only thing that mattered was the sound of Gunner’s steady breathing, the feel of his body next to hers.

  17

  It was a long time later when she woke. The cabin was dark, the storm over, but there was no moonlight coming in from the window. She could tell Gunner was awake.

  “So, you said it was complicated?” Claire raised her head from his chest. “You want to tell me what it is?”

  Gunner shifted beneath her, pushing himself up against the headboard of the bed, reaching over to flick on the light. He raised his arm, and she settled against him, and he pulled the blankets around her shoulders.

  Finally, he took her hand, absently rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles. “We both know something’s wrong with Adrian, besides being obsessed with you. I think he’s sick.”

  “You mean something physical? With what? Is that why he gets stuck shifting?”

  Gunner nodded. “I think it is.”

  “But we don’t get diseases…do we?” And then it hit her, and the blood drained from her face. “Gunner…Adrian bit you. If he’s got something contagious…then you could get it…”

  His grip tightened on her hand. “Listen to me. I’d heard stories from my dad. I thought he was just trying to freak me out when I was a kid. You know, scary stories around the campfire, that kind of thing.”

  “What were the stories about?” Her throat was dry, and it clicked as she swallowed.

  “Shifters who couldn’t shift, who went off the deep end. Went crazy. Like Adrian.”

  He was quiet for a minute, and she wondered how it was for Gunner now, knowing the man who’d told those stories to that boy wasn’t really that boy’s father.

  Gunner sighed, and it was such a resigned, hopeless sound. “Yeah. Anyway. He said it was something that runs in families, genetic…” Gunner shook his head. “My dad used to tell me the disease…I’m trying to remember what it’s called… They used to believe it was what caused vampires, made humans drink blood so they didn’t go insane.”

  “Oh. Um…p-something. Porphyria?” The word sounded strange, foreign, totally out of place in the quiet of the cabin.

  “Yeah. That’s it. How did you know?”

  “I read about it in college, English history…King George.” Claire frowned, distracted. A thought hovered at the edge of her mind, something horrible.

  “So he’s got a genetic disease. But…” She sat up, turning to face him. “Gunner. He’s your brother…half-brother. Then you’re…do you have it, too?” Images of Gunner, ranting and violent, ran through her mind. Compared to Adrian, Gunner was huge. If Gunner had the same condition…the thought chilled her to the bone.

  Gunner shook his head. “I’m fine…if I were like Adrian, I’d be sick by now.” His voice was low, urgent. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Claire. I’d know it. Trust me on this.”

  “But how? How can you be sure?”

  “I broke Adrian’s nose at the diner, right?”

  Claire nodded, then shrugged. “So?”

  “And he broke my ribs when he kicked me.”

  Claire let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah. I know, I was there. So?”

  “His nose is still all messed up, still dripping blood. Still broken. Look.” Gunner sat up, pulling back the sheet. Claire leaned over, and looked down at Gunner’s torso. There was a faded bruise over the spot where Adrian had kicked him.

  “Oh…wow.” Claire sat back.

  “My ribs are healed, Claire. His nose is still broken. If I had the same thing Adrian has, none of my injuries would be healed. Shifters heal quickly, as you know. Adrian can’t.”

  She nodded. “And the last fight? You hurt him really badly, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I did. He’s got some serious injuries, bad enough that it’s going to keep him down for a long time.”

  Something close to relief, sudden and almost overwhelming, flooded through Claire. She sank back on the bed, eyes suddenly full of tears. Gunner wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “Oh God…but it’s not over, is it?”

  Gunner drew a breath, his chest rising, then falling beneath her cheek. “No, it isn’t. It’s probably only just beginning. His arm tightened briefly around her.

  “What now?”

  “We wait out the storm, and go back tomorrow. Try to figure out what to do, but back home, back w
here we have family.”

  “Your family…”

  “Yeah, Reece, Malone…my family.”

  “Your clan.” She turned her head away. “Who hates mine. My clan that had your family killed.”

  Gunner sat up abruptly, turning to Claire, pulling her across his lap. “My clan…right now, they’re the guys I trust with my life. And yours.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Do you trust me, Claire? Can you trust me to take care of you?”

  She looked into his eyes. It was easy for him to ask for that trust, promise to take care of her now, here, in the dark with a naked girl sitting on his lap. But when they were back in the city, then what? Would he still feel the same way? Was that a risk she was willing to take?

  It was.

  “I trust you. We’ll go back…to your clan.”

  He pulled her into his arms, lips finding hers. Every doubt she had slipped away under the pressure of his mouth on hers, as his hands slid down over her arms, and found their way to her waist and then other places. She shifted on his lap, and grinned, as Gunner groaned against her lips. She pulled back, smiling at him in the dim light.

  He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s got you all smiling? You like getting me all hot and bothered, don’t you?”

  “If you haven’t noticed, you do the same thing to me.”

  “I do my best, ma’am.” He shifted again, lifting her up until she straddled his lap. There was no hiding his intent from her, and she wiggled against him, eliciting another moan.

  “You know you’re starting something I’m not going to be able to stop.” The corner of his mouth turned up, eyes darkening with passion.

  “I don’t want you to stop…ever.” She wrapped her arms around Gunner’s neck. “This is the safest I’ve felt in a long, long time. I’ve got no intention of starting something…with you…that I…that we can’t finish.”

  There was a brief but wonderful confusion of arms and legs, shifting bodies, as Gunner sat forward, tipping Claire backward onto the bed. She landed on her back, bouncing slightly, laughing up at Gunner. Lightening flashed, brilliant and sharp, and she saw his face above hers, pure animal passion written across his face.

  But the animal was gentle this time. Gunner leaned down, lips brushing against hers, almost—but not quite delicately. The latent power of his body, his hand resting on her stomach, fingers moving slowly on her skin, it was all there, a heartbeat away from the surface.

  Claire reached up, twining her fingers through his hair, pulling him just a little closer, exerting just a little more pressure against his lips.

  She felt him draw a breath, and then the kiss deepened, slowly, each movement bringing a swell of heat flooding through her. His fingers slid over her stomach, rising up to gently caress one full breast. Claire moaned against his mouth, arching against his hand, seeking more contact.

  He slowly broke the kiss, sliding his lips along the curve of her jaw, down the hollow of her throat, lingering here and there, the occasional kiss turning into a nip of teeth. He kissed a line between her breasts, stopping to nuzzle his cheek against their fullness.

  Claire looked down at Gunner, fingers still in his hair, watching as he traced first one hard nipple, then the other with his lips and tongue. Desire and passion welled up inside her and she clutched his hair, arching up still further, wanting more, but not wanting what he was doing to stop.

  And Gunner didn’t stop. He took his sweet time, lavishing attention on each breast, licking, kissing, pulling one taut nipple into his mouth, first sucking gently, teasing her with lips and tongue and teeth.

  But his gentleness gave way to something urgent, primal, an insatiable need. He tugged hard on her breast, pulling more of her between his lips. Electric jolts ran through her, each more intense than the one before, her body filled with sensations and emotions. She was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of tenderness toward Gunner, shocked to find something close to love filling her heart.

  Her body was demanding more and as if sensing her desires, Gunner lifted his head. He was heavy-lidded, lips parted, breathing a little hard and fast. She shifted beneath him, an open invitation, and he rose above her, accepting

  Wordlessly she took him in her hand, guiding him to her. He watched her face this time, a smile tugging at his lips, hips still held above hers.

  “What?” Her voice was breathless, her body almost vibrating with need.

  “Just want to watch this time, in case you repeat yourself.”

  “I won’t be repeating anything if you don’t make a move.” She still held him and gave him a tug.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just didn’t want to miss the show this time.”

  Before she could say anything, he covered her mouth with his and entered her, one long controlled thrust. She broke away, eyes closed, exhaling with a long, deep noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

  “Oh, yeah. Okay…” Everything felt so perfect, she almost wanted him to do that all over again, from the beginning, every move leading up to that.

  “Okay? Just okay?”

  She opened her eyes, squinting up at him. “I thought it was women who talked during sex, not men.”

  He shrugged, settling himself on his elbows, his hips flexing just enough to kindle a warmth deep inside her.

  “Making sure everything is to your liking. And there’s nothing like a no talking rule, you know. There’s a time and place for words. Talking makes it better.”

  “Better?”

  “Haven’t you ever talked during sex? Asked for something you wanted?” He rocked his hips from side to side, setting off a new wave of sensations between her hips.

  She shook her head. “No…not really. It’s just…never…no.”

  “We’ll have to work on that then. I’ll start. Wrap your legs around my waist. I like when you’re open, when I can be all the way inside you.” He pushed forward, holding himself still, waiting.

  Slowly she pulled her legs back, running her calves over his hard thighs, over the taut curve of his ass, her thighs sliding along his torso.

  He held her gaze for a moment then pushed forward slowly, and she felt herself rocked upward, her body accepting him completely.

  “Like that. Is that good for you?” His voice was a low rumble, one she felt against her heart. His question took her by surprise and she hesitated for a moment.

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Your turn. Tell me what you want.” She looked up at him, his eyes briefly catching the light, deep and dark and endless blue.

  “I like it when you…pay attention to my breasts. I like it a lot.”

  She felt the need to whisper, aware now of the power her words had, awed by the fact he might actually listen to what she said.

  He held her gaze a moment longer, then slowly curled himself around her, an arm sliding beneath her. He bent his body, lowering his head to her breast, caressing her with his lips and tongue. She arched against him, shifting slightly, and their bodies melted into each other.

  Claire was completely enfolded in Gunner’s strong grip, held against his body as his hips began moving, slowly for a moment, then increasing speed. The urgency she’d felt before returned, and he sucked at her almost greedily.

  She clung to him, letting him carry her as he took control, took her body with his, as he plummeted over the edge toward his climax. When he came, he tore his mouth from her breast, a cry of pure pleasure breaking from his lips, hips thrust far forward.

  As the hot sweetness of his orgasm filled her, Claire let go, her shudders and tremors, no less powerful for being contained by Gunner’s arms, by his body pressing her to the mattress, shaking her to her very core. But even as she was restrained, she felt secure, able to let herself go completely, trusting Gunner’s hold on her would keep her from shattering into pieces.

  Gunner finally fell across her, breathing hard, body covered with a sheen of sweat. She held him, fingers trailing over his shoulders.


  “Yeah…you were right, that’s a lot better than okay.”

  His shoulders shook, and she realized he was laughing. Then he lifted his head, propping it on his hand.

  “I have my moments. You caught me on a good day…or night.” He looked out the window. “It is still night, I guess. I’ve lost track of time.”

  He looked down at her. “Are you comfortable? I can move.”

  “No, I’m good.” She smiled and slid one leg slowly down his body, foot trailing along his back. “I like it here.”

  He returned her smile. “I like this, too.” He leaned down, kissing her softly. When he raised his head, the smile was there, but his eyes were dark, serious. “And I like you.”

  Her heart did a funny little stutter step, her breath catching in her throat. “I…don’t know…”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Claire. I’m not looking for a declaration…”

  She shook her head, a burble of laughter on her lips. “But I do…I mean; I like you too. A lot…” The laughter took on a nervous edge. “I sound like I’m in junior high.”

  “You sound fine to me. You just sound like a woman who hasn’t had a very good track record with men. You just need practice.”

  “Practice using my words? Like before?” She frowned.

  “Yeah. Practice makes perfect. Give it a shot, see what happens. I’m not going anywhere.” He settled back, obviously ready to make good on his word.

  Her laughter died away. No one had ever asked things like this, how she felt, what she wanted, and then listened to her. It was new and strange and wonderful and scary, all at the same time.

  She looked at Gunner. He was big and strong and capable, obviously a fighter. And he certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes. But there was more. His steady gaze, the way he looked at her, the way he listened to her. Everything was suddenly clear.

  “You make me feel safe, like everything’s going to be okay. And I trust you. I’ve never trusted anyone before. Why is that?”