MoonIllusion

by Moon Illusion [eXtasy] (mobi)

  Gina was playing with fire and simply didn’t realise it. He wanted her—now—and she was obviously more than willing. Ah well, she’d just have to live with the consequences of her actions. He withheld the arrogant chuckle that threatened to burst forth—she might even like it.

  Chapter Seven

  "Please…” Gina panted, trying to fit the words between the breaths she so desperately needed. “Now… I need…”

  “I know what you need, babe.” Braced above her, Nate seemed bigger, stronger, and infinitely more ruthless than he had when he’d brought her to orgasm in the living room.

  “Please…”

  He shook his head, and for an instant she thought she saw a gleam of white teeth in the darkness. “When I’m ready.”

  She gasped as he rubbed his groin against her clit, pressing hard but pulling back as soon as she thrust her hips up to meet his. It felt like he’d been teasing her for hours, one minute grinding his pelvis into hers, the next dipping his head to swoop on a breast, suckling until she cried out, unsure whether it was pleasure or pain.

  Then, every time she responded, he drew back. He let her suffer, neatly caught between his legs, and let her urgency rise with every measured movement.

  Suddenly her legs were spread wide, his knee rammed solidly between her thighs. He pushed his leg forward, increasing the pressure on her clit until she thought she’d scream. Then, just as her eyes screwed shut, any semblance of control beyond her, he pulled back.

  Frustrated as all hell, she balled her fists and pounded on his bare chest. It just wasn’t fair. She wanted to come, needed to come, and he wouldn’t let her. If anything, he seemed to be getting off on watching her lose control. Each time she begged him, the words spilling from her mouth before she could hold them in, his eyes lit up and waves of satisfaction positively rolled off him. And every time, it apparently goaded him to push her on just a little bit further.

  She could sense him above her, controlling her, fucking her, and he hadn’t even taken his frigging jeans off! What was it going to take? His mouth descended onto her other nipple, drawing it taut between his teeth and stretching, stretching until she did scream, her nipple a single point of glorious fire in a body that was beyond sensitive.

  Eyes closed, she squirmed against him, thrust her hips upward, and reached out to grab his upper arms, desperately trying to pull him right down on top of her. He hardly even seemed to notice, his muscles barely flexing as he held himself rigidly above her.

  Sheets rumpled under her thrashing body, and a vague scent of vanilla rose around her with every movement. The laundry soap, she realised, or maybe the potpourri that sat on her dresser. Every gasp, every panting breath contained a hint of sweetness, a touch of normality. But over it all was his smell, warm and intoxicating.

  “Listen.” His voice was a deep whisper, the scrape of his stubble sending a minor lightening bolt from her ear to her spine, only to have it explode deep between her legs.

  Mindlessly she obeyed, listening to the helpless little moans, the gasps of pleasure and frustration. The sheets rustling, the rasping of his jeans against the smooth skin of her thighs and, through it all, the sound of a woman being thoroughly pleasured. Her.

  “Can you smell yourself?” His voice was back in her ear, tempting, beckoning. “Smell how much you want me?”

  Even as she obeyed, drawing a deep breath through her nose, she felt his fingers plunge deep within her, as quickly withdrawn.

  “Smell,” he ordered, and she opened her eyes in time to see his fingers drift under her nose, evidence of her arousal dripping from them.

  Too late to stop herself, she inhaled, her own scent filling her head, the vanilla no more than a memory. Apparently satisfied with her obedience, he pushed the fingers into his mouth, languorously sucking them clean.

  “You taste good,” he purred and lowered his mouth to hers, his lips covering her mouth as he forced her to taste the remnants of her juices on his tongue.

  Gina moaned into his mouth, too aroused to be embarrassed, her tongue flicking out to dual with his. She grasped his shoulders, fingers digging deep as she held him close, and relaxed as he finally lowered himself fully onto her.

  His pelvis ground into hers, the rough hair of his chest abrading her nipples, and she didn’t care. All she wanted was the contact, the fulfillment his movements promised. A whimper of protest died on her lips as he pulled his mouth away, immediately refastening onto the closest nipple. Helpless to resist, she arched into him, only to have him pull away again just as the orgasm started to overtake her.

  “Damn you!”

  He laughed, a surprisingly contented sound, and held her wildly flailing arms to either side of her head, her legs caught under his. “What do you want?” he growled.

  “Fuck me. Now. Please.” Gina’s hips bucked in time with her words, emphasizing them. “Please.”

  The last word was lost in a scream as his cock filled her in one fierce lunge. She’d have sworn he’d been off her for only seconds, yet his jeans were gone and he was as naked as she.

  He lay there, filling her, but hadn’t moved beyond that first thrust.

  She wriggled, pleading, wishing he’d hurry up. The waiting was killing her. “More.” She shoved her hips sharply upward, reveling in the way his eyes glazed and the planes of his face went taut with concentration. “More.”

  And she’d thought what he’d done to her downstairs was the very peak of pleasure. Without words, he showed just how wrong she’d been, his cock sliding in and out of her as he fucked her beyond thought, beyond reason. She was on her back, writhing under him as he slammed in, then she’d find herself face down on the bed, ass high in the air as he took her from behind, his cock thrusting deeper again as he drove them both.

  All she could think about, all she could feel, was his cock as it filled her repeatedly, stretching her, and nudging her closer and closer to explosion. That, and the wholly sexual man who turned her within his hands, arranging her limbs as easily as if she were a doll.

  She was on her back again, lying exactly where he’d placed her, when his tempo changed. She was too sated to move a muscle, or even to take note of what was different, when suddenly she found herself tumbling headfirst over the edge of the world. He’d held her high on the plateau for so long, ruthlessly dictating her pleasure, that the shock of the final plunge was even greater.

  It felt like she’d been pushed over a waterfall, twisting and falling, breathless and exhilarated. Her body fell and, some distance behind, her brain followed, wrapping the world in darkness as she finally slowed to a halt.

  * * * *

  He pounded into her—one last savage thrust—and let his own release overtake him.

  “Mine.”

  The growl burst forth as he shuddered, his cock still twitching, and automatically settled himself on top of her, securing her. So long as he had any say in it, Gina wasn’t going anywhere.

  Shit!

  Had he really just said that? How the hell had he let go so much that the were instincts took over? That had never happened before…

  Nate forced his eyes open, surprised at the effort required, and looked down at her face, a slight smile of feline content the only sign she was even aware of what they’d been doing for the past half hour. Gina was already asleep and, frankly, he doubted she’d be lying there so peacefully if she had heard him. And that probably meant she hadn’t seen the harsh lines of possession he could still feel etched into his face.

  Feeling just a little bit safer, almost certain now that she hadn’t heard him, he rolled heavily away to the other side of the bed. A chill spread through him; already, he was missing the heat of her body.

  Damn.

  He reached back, one arm pinning her to his side.

  Much better.

  A tiny, satisfied sigh escaped, and he grimaced at his own vulnerability. He wouldn’t think about it just yet—god, he was tired—but he’d have to do something about the sensual Ms. L
ongmire. A werewolf was not supposed to fall in love with a woman who resembled nothing so much as a well-pleasured—and totally exhausted—kitten. Even as his eyes closed and he settled to sleep, he couldn’t help grinning at the ridiculous thought. Cats and dogs just did not get on.

  Nate woke slowly, automatically noting the position of the moon through the uncurtained window. No more than an hour had passed, but he was wide awake and ready to fuck her some more. Despite his fears, she’d loved the way he’d taken her, screaming her pleasure as he rode her hard and deep. He inhaled deeply; the scent of their lovemaking filled the room. He wanted to do it all over again.

  Nate pushed himself up onto an arm, the better to watch her wake up, and shook her gently. Another time, he’d wake her up with his cock already buried deep inside her, her cunt dripping as he fucked her. But not today. He didn’t want to scare her away just yet.

  He shook her again, a little more forcefully, but still she refused to wake. The words were unclear but she was grumbling about something. Still muttering, she turned her back and, pushing her tight little ass snugly against his erection, grabbed her pillow and snuggled back down into it. Apparently, she wasn’t planning on waking up anytime soon. He grinned, smug masculine satisfaction clearly written on his face.

  There was something extremely satisfying about loving a woman so thoroughly she was utterly sated, utterly exhausted. ‘Loving a woman’. That was the difference. He’d fucked her senseless, but there was more to it than just that.

  The suddenness of the thought made him wary. It reminded him of the instinctive possessiveness that had overtaken him as he came. He wasn’t ready to face that kind of emotion just yet—‘love’, the very word was enough to make him shudder. He enjoyed his life precisely as it was. Determined on his course, and quite certain the only option was to avoid her in the future, he shifted her slightly further away from him, away from all temptation, then lay back and stared at the ceiling. Already, it felt wrong. He liked the way her body curled so naturally into his. Yep, abrupt as the decision was, he’d definitely made the right choice. As of tomorrow, he’d stay away from Gina Longmire.

  Almost unconsciously, his arm crept out and wrapped itself around her waist. There was nothing to stop him having the rest of the night, however. His eyes gleamed as his imagination took over.

  She’d wake to find her thighs spread wide, anchored in place by his hands, and his tongue licking up the juices that flowed from her cunt. Her whole body would be perfectly exposed in the morning sunlight, her creamy skin flushed with desire, her nipples taut, and she’d be squirming, halfway to orgasm before she even knew what was happening. Nate closed his eyes and settled more comfortably into the mattress. Surely it would be okay to have early in the morning as well. There was no point in denying himself the pleasure of her body too soon…

  Chapter Eight

  The coffee smelt good. Very good.

  Gina rubbed her eyes wearily, almost too tired to carry the mug she’d poured the few paces across to the table. She’d actually staggered rather than walked down the stairs this morning. Thank goodness it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to be back at work until Monday. Maybe, just maybe, she’d manage that. Then again…

  She couldn’t remember ever having been so utterly, thoroughly, comprehensively fucked. She literally ached with the exertion; her legs were still wobbly, and it was an effort to hold herself upright in the kitchen chair. Her body felt used, like she’d finally found out just exactly what she was capable of. And that was way more than she’d ever imagined.

  There’d been the sofa in the living room—she remembered that quite clearly—then he’d fucked her senseless on the bed. Her eyes glazed as her brain stumbled. How many times had it been? Try as she might, she couldn’t remember. She shrugged it off. More than once, that was for sure. It must have been a lot because she couldn’t seem to remember sleeping or, more to the point, she did remember being woken up. Lots of times.

  She took a scalding gulp of coffee, trying to boost herself for the next memory. Then, there was how she woke up the last time. Even sitting here in the very ordinary kitchen, the breeze quietly wafting through her totally normal—and extremely un-sexy—blue curtains, she couldn’t help blushing at the thought.

  An odd noise had prodded her from a deep dream, a very pleasant dream in which she was somewhere deep in a forest, tall old pines soaring overhead, their needles shivering in a warm breeze that played over her naked body, caressing every curve and dimple. It was night in her dream, the stars appearing and disappearing as the foliage moved, the full moon sailing high above the clouds that scudded across the sky.

  And with her, on her…

  She wasn’t sure. That was the worst thing about dreams—the one thing you wanted to be clear wasn’t. There was someone with her, a tall man whose shadow occasionally blotted out even the clear moonlight. He loomed over her as she lay amongst the pine needles, the forest floor a soft and fragrant bed. Yet even as he loomed, towered, lowered himself over her and took control, she was never afraid of him. The lightest stroke of his fingers set her trembling and she arched into his touch, longing for more.

  Then the man had changed. She still couldn’t see him clearly, but he’d become even larger, stronger, infinitely more demanding. His outline was unclear, almost shaggy, but she could feel his weight pressing her into the earth, hard and solid. He’d brushed his fingers over her eyes—try as she might, she couldn’t force them to open again—and she was left inhabiting a whole new world of sensation, one where touch and sound and scent were all that existed.

  There was no sight, nothing to see. And no taste either. Her blindly questing mouth couldn’t quite seem to make contact with him. Then her hands were anchored by her hips, her legs spread wide and her head was thrashing, her hips rolling as she tried to escape his searching tongue.

  She couldn’t escape him—did she really want to?—and slowly, so slowly he explored her. He laved her thighs, swirled warm breath over her nipples, licked, sucked and probed until he knew every part of her intimately. Once he’d discovered where she was most sensitive, he set about torturing her with his newfound knowledge. Her ears were filled with the sound of his ragged breathing, their frantic heartbeats, and her own moans and cries. She heard herself whimpering, begging, and still he continued. His head had finally settled between her legs, apparently content to let his tongue wreak havoc with her self-control.

  It was a particularly loud moan that woke her up. She’d started to push herself upright, wanting to see the normality of her bedroom surrounding her—and couldn’t.

  Her wrists were anchored to the bed, her fingers kneading the sheet. Her legs were spread wide, her knees bent over Nate’s shoulders, and her body was writhing as she strived to gain release from his sensual torment. His face was buried between her legs and his appreciative little grunts of approval were sending heady vibrations racing through her blood.

  She’d been able to feel the heat gathering under her skin, had almost heard the electric sizzles as her nerves jumped and all her senses centered on the spot where his tongue was tracing lazy spirals, apparently waiting for her to regain her senses. As much of them as he was willing to let her cling to, that was.

  Satisfied she was awake, his tongue had delved deeper, invading her pussy at the same time he used his teeth to grab her clit. Slowly, stretching her for every last second of pleasure, he’d bitten down, and she’d exploded. Before she’d floated back to earth he’d been inside her again, his cock easing in as he pushed himself deep.

  She’d felt his cooler saliva mixing with her own cum, its warmth flowing down her leg and over her ass. It had drenched the sheet under her, puddling in the depression made by her buttocks, and—for once—she hadn’t been embarrassed. He’d whispered in her ear, praised her, incited her, desired her, wanted her.

  Rough.

  Dirty.

  Messy.

  Was that what sex was like with the right person? A little b
it of adolescent groping and fondling, a few not-very-satisfactory thrusts, then it was all over. That was sex. Wasn’t it?

  And yet with Nate…she’d loved it. She’d never imagined feeling so completely fulfilled. Or so at ease with a stranger. And that was pretty well what Nate was to her. A stranger. She’d met him, what—two days ago? So how could she feel so close to him already?

  Gina pushed her coffee aside, folded her arms and collapsed onto the table, wrinkling her nose at the slightly chemical smell of the polish she normally used. Obviously, she hadn’t spent enough time with her nose pressed into the woodwork, otherwise she’d have changed to something a little less…pungent. Still, now she was here, she was too tired to even think about moving again, let alone actually lifting her head. God, she was tired. Exhausted.

  It seemed like hours later when she lifted her head, twisting irritably to straighten out the crick in her neck. Fancy falling asleep at the kitchen table! She’d put her head down, thinking to have a few minutes’ rest, and had fallen into a deep sleep. Goodness, he’d worked her over last night. Gina’s lips twisted at the thought. Heck, it had been good.

  A light breeze ruffled her hair, just like gentle fingers teasing it away from her scalp. It filled the kitchen with the scent of morning—wet grass and moist earth slowly warming in the weak sunlight. There was even a hint of spring in the air. She glanced up at the fluttering curtains, her smile turning thoughtful. She never opened the windows in the morning, preferring to wait until the day had warmed a little before airing the house.

  Nate had certainly made himself right at home, and not just with her body, either. She had a vague memory of him springing out of bed at some ungodly hour. He’d been disgustingly cheerful when all she wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and hide until sometime after lunch. At least.