“I want you!” Natalie clawed at his shoulders as his tongue pumped into her pussy, driving her to the point of madness with the wicked, incredible pleasure tearing through her.
She wanted to touch him, wanted to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, but she couldn’t think. She couldn’t push herself away, and she couldn’t help but beg, to plead for more of his wicked tongue and evil fingers.
Fingers that were pressing inside her, filling her as his lips moved to the hard knot of her clit and surrounded it.
Her eyes jerked open, stared down her body, met the dark green fire in his as he licked and suckled at the violently sensitive flesh.
She was going to explode. She could feel it. She was right there. So close.
“You taste like a dream.” He kissed her clit, once, twice, then licked around it slowly, his slumberous eyes locked with hers. “I could eat you forever.”
She could barely breathe.
“But I want to be inside you when you come for me the first time.” He pulled back, despite her attempt to tighten her legs and hold him in place.
“I’ve dreamed of this, cher.” Anticipation filled his voice, his slumberous gaze as he jerked at the laces of his boots and quickly pulled them free.
Licking her lips, Natalie moved as his hands went to his belt. She rose, sat on the side of the bed, and brushed his fingers away.
“I want you now.” She slid the buckle free then went to work on the metal buttons, pulling them free, the hard, thick ridge of his cock making the task difficult at first.
As the material parted, Natalie drew it down to his thighs, left it there, and cupped her palm over the thick flesh hidden only by the cotton briefs he wore.
She heard his breath hiss from between his teeth as she gripped the band of the underwear and drew it slowly over the swollen length of his erection.
Weakness flooded her. Her juices pooled on the ultrasensitive folds of her flesh, and she swore her womb was clenching in trepidation. Because he wasn’t a small man in any way.
“Cher, leave me a little control, eh?” His voice was strained, but his hands were gentle as he brushed the hair back from her face.
“No.” She gripped the hard flesh with both hands and brought it to her parted lips.
He said something. Something foreign, thickly accented, but she didn’t catch it. The blood was thundering in her ears, rushing through her body, and her mouth was surrounding the wide, hot crest of his cock hungrily.
She had dreamed, too. Dreamed of him taking her in this big bed, dreamed of taking him, just like this.
She stared up at him, tasted the heat and male lust, the hunger and the need on his flesh. Sweat gleamed on his chest, ran in small rivulets along it, and added a subtle male fragrance to the air.
It was his eyes that held her though. A green so dark now she wondered if they weren’t closer to black. They glowed in his face, as startling as the wicked white canines that gleamed at the side of his mouth as his lips pulled back in a desperate snarl.
Hard hands were in her hair, twisting in it, tangling in it as she sucked his cock head inside and swirled her tongue over it slowly, tasting him.
He wasn’t watching her in detachment, he wasn’t analyzing her performance, he was enjoying it. Enjoying it to the point that she moaned at the additional pleasure that the expression on his face brought her.
Savage pleasure tightened his expression, pulled his lips back and had growls leaving his throat. It was the most exciting, erotic sight she had known in her life.
“Ah, cher,” his voice whispered over her. “Sweet bébé.”
She sucked him deep, tasting the subtle essence of pre-cum and wild, desperate lust.
She tasted and teased, tempted and tormented until she felt the control she had always sensed inside him break.
Between one second and the next she was pushed to her back, his jeans and briefs discarded, and he was moving purposely between her thighs. The length of his erection was iron-hard, throbbing, the prominent veins ridging the flesh, the engorged head darkened and pulsing in lust.
“Saban, please—” She bit her lip, holding back her words. She wanted to ask him to go easy, to take her slowly at first, but she could see the hunger raging in him, brewing into a storm of lust that darkened his emerald eyes.
“Do you think I would hurt you?” His jaw clenched, his chest heaved as he fought for breath, and the thick head of his cock tucked against the folds of her pussy.
His voice lowered to a primal growl. “Do you think I don’t know, Natalie? That I didn’t feel more than your sweet, slick heat?”
His hips bunched, tightened, pressed forward as his lips lowered, and he lifted her hands to his shoulders. “Hold on to me cher. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
Small, stretching thrusts did just that. Eased inside her, parting the snug tissue gently, working his cock into her with fiery, delicious strokes that were both pleasure and pain.
Ecstasy whipped through her system, fiery trails of lashing pleasure tore across sensitive nerve endings, and as Natalie stared up at Saban, she saw something she had never seen in her marriage to Mike: shared pleasure. The need to please her as well as to be pleasured.
Saban wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t intent on pushing boundaries as much as he was intent on sharing the burning need, which was more erotic than any boundary she’d ever had pushed.
“What are you doing to me?” It was more than pleasure. With her gaze locked with his, the patience in each thrust, the taut hunger on his face, sweat gleaming and running in slow rivulets down the side of his neck, he was the picture of a sex god at work. But his eyes. Emotions glowed in his eyes, emotions she didn’t want to face, didn’t want to battle, within him or within herself.
“I’m loving you, cher. Whether you want the love or not.” He leaned forward, nipped her lips. “Just loving you, bébé.”
One last thrust, slow and measured, buried him inside her as his lips took hers in a kiss that fired her soul. Her body she could have understood. The heated hormone spilling from his tongue hit her system like a fireball and began speeding through her bloodstream. But her soul? It should have been protected, closed away from any and all male influence.
But she felt her chest tightening, her heart racing from more than excitement, and the almost hidden acknowledgment that this was more than she had ever dreamed loving could be.
The growl in his chest deepened as his thrusts began to increase. His cock stroked once-hidden nerve endings, buried to the depths of her, and stroked there before beginning again. Natalie became a creature of sensuality, of pleasure. Thought, caution, and fear receded beneath the agonizing pleasure burning through her body.
Her hands gripped and caressed sweat-dampened muscles. She writhed beneath him, thrusting back, needing the fierce, hard thrusts now that she had grown used to the width and length of the erection buried inside her. She twisted beneath him, gasping, crying his name as she felt the heat burn hotter, the pleasure flame higher. Each stroke of his flesh, no matter which part of her body it touched, drove her higher. She was flying. Oh God, she had never flown.
“Saban!” She screamed his name, fear suddenly coalescing inside her, the sensations building, burning, rising to a crescendo that threatened to terrify her.
“I have you, Natalie.” His lips moved over her jaw, her cheek. “Give to me, baby. Give to me. I’ll hold you here. I swear it.”
Husky, rough. His lips skimmed over her neck, her shoulder, those wicked canines scraped against the tender flesh between neck and shoulder, and his thrusts became stronger, hard, driving into her, fucking her with such complete abandon that the waves of ecstasy building inside her began to crash over her.
Her orgasm exploded, ruptured, imploded. It tore through her with a force that she was certain destroyed her mind as she felt those canines rake her flesh again, then a hungry growl left Saban’s throat.
She couldn’t have anticipated it. She should have.
His teeth pierced her shoulder, his mouth clamping over the wound, his tongue stroking, laving, as his body jerked in its own release.
She felt the head of his cock swell, throb, then she felt it. The extension swelling from beneath the head of his cock, moving inside her, stroking her, locking his cock in place as his semen began to spurt inside her.
The second orgasm that shook her stole her breath and her sight. Her nails locked into his shoulders, her muscles trembled, shook, and she swore she saw the flames racing over both their bodies as her wail filled the air.
She had never known, never believed so much pleasure could exist. That she could orgasm, from her vagina and her clit at once, that the orgasm could race through her body and explode through every cell, every molecule of flesh. Or that in that orgasm she could feel herself, a part of herself she never knew existed, finally awakening.
SIX
There were times in a woman’s life when she didn’t have a choice but to admit that she was in over her head, and Natalie admitted the next morning that this was one of those times. She didn’t like it, didn’t like having to reprioritize her life, or acknowledge that she had no choice but to deal with a relationship that she had been certain was highly ill-advised.
Saban, despite his easygoing manner, was no pussycat, and she knew it. She sensed it clear to the core of her being and had no idea how to handle waiting for the other shoe to drop where he was concerned.
And she didn’t like the fact that the mating heat had forced this, rather than human nature alone. Of course, how she could expect a Breed to be ruled by human nature, she couldn’t imagine.
He had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt in the bed the night before, throughout the night, and into the morning that he was much more than a man or an animal.
He had been tireless, but then, so had she. The hunger that had driven them had kept them going at each other well after midnight before throwing them into an exhausted slumber, only to bring them awake hours later, hungrier, more desperate than ever before.
She wanted to blame it only on the hormonal reaction. Unfortunately, she clearly remembered awakening, that abnormal heat finally sated, only to have her curiosity and her needs aroused once again without that stupid hormone coming into play.
She had wanted to stroke him. Stroke him, kiss him, hear those primal growls that rumbled in his chest, and feel the strength of him when he finally had enough and tumbled her beneath him.
Now, as morning began to edge into afternoon, she found herself trying to find sense in something she knew she didn’t have a hope in hell of making sense of.
What the hell had she managed to get herself involved in? But even more to the point, why wasn’t she angry over it? She should be furious. She should be screaming at Lyons, threatening Wyatt and the Bureau of Breed Affairs with all manner of legal actions for not informing her of the hazards of consorting with Breeds. Instead, she was standing in her kitchen as she watched a shirtless Saban frown down at the grill he was currently attempting to figure out.
It had worked perfectly last night. This morning, it seemed to be intent on driving one Jaguar Breed insane. That, or he was trying to buy time the same way she was, by focusing on something other than the situation at hand.
She had finally given up on that herself an hour ago.
She glanced at the steaks lying on the counter, the potatoes ready to go into the microwave, and pushed her fingers through her hair before forcing herself to turn away from the sight of it. All that luscious, bronzed flesh displayed was too much for any woman’s senses to deal with for extended periods of time.
She was on edge, uncertain, and trying to deal with something totally out of her realm of understanding.
The ringing of the doorbell had her jumping, swinging around, and staring through the house as the back door opened, and Saban strode in, jerking his shirt over his shoulders as he glanced at her.
His eyes were cold, hard, causing something inside her to chill as she followed him through the house. He hadn’t pulled a weapon, so she assumed he knew who was at the door.
She moved quickly behind him, pulling at the hem of the long shirt she wore, drying her palms on the sides of the denim shorts.
Saban paused at the door and stared back at her as the bell rang again.
“Remember one thing,” he suddenly growled, causing her to tilt her head and stare at him in surprise. “You’re mine now, Natalie. I won’t tolerate another man in your life. Or in your heart.”
Her teeth snapped together a second before her lips parted to sling a searing retort his way. He chose that moment to jerk the door open and face the sheriff and her ex-husband, Mike Claxton.
Mike looked frustrated, furious, his blue eyes snapping in anger as the sheriff of Buffalo Gap shot Natalie a resigned look before turning to Saban with an edge of wariness.
Sheriff Randolph had the broad, heavy build of a linebacker, dwarfing Mike’s smaller, leaner frame. His dark hair was cut military short, his dark eyes sharp and intelligent.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, Saban.” He nodded to Saban. “But it seems we have a complaint.”
“Mike, what are you doing here?” Natalie stepped forward, only to pause as Saban sliced a hard, warning look her way.
She almost rolled her eyes, but something about the set of his expression, the ready tension in his body, warned her that he wasn’t quite ready to shelve the whole protective, possessive male thing.
She hated the thought. Hated the thought that the trust and the independence she needed could be wiped away so easily in his mind.
“Look at her, Sheriff,” Mike suddenly snapped. “I told you something was wrong with her. Are you ready to listen to me now?”
Shock had Natalie backing up a step as Mike turned his enraged gaze on her. This was one of the reasons their marriage had been doomed from the first month. Jealous rages, an almost fanatical certainty that Natalie was always looking at other men, lusting for them.
She shouldn’t have been shocked, much less surprised.
Natalie shifted her gaze from Mike to the sheriff. “Sheriff Randolph, it’s good to see you again.” She gave him an uncomfortable smile. “You haven’t caught me at my best this morning.”
“I apologize for that, ma’am.” He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Mr. Claxton here seems unwilling to accept the fact that you’re hale and hearty though.”
“Look at her, she’s pale. She looks drugged,” Mike accused as he started to step into the house.
“You have not been invited inside.” Saban stepped forward, his low voice dangerous.
“Get out of my way, Breed.” Mike was shaking now, his voice holding a nervous tremor as Natalie watched him fight stepping back. “I want to talk to my wife.”
“Ex-wife.” Natalie didn’t wait for Saban to answer to that one. She turned back to the sheriff instead. “I’m sorry you were bothered.”
“Dammit, Natalie. Pack your things, you’re coming home. This foolishness has to stop somewhere,” Mike bit out virulently, his fists clenching at his sides as he was forced to stare around Saban rather than walking through him. “I’ll take you home.”
“Your new friend has a death wish, Ted,” Saban told the sheriff. “Get him out of here.”
“Now, Saban, let’s be reasonable about this.” The sheriff pulled his hat from his head and swiped his hand over the short cut of his hair. “Mr. Claxton just wants to talk to her. Let him see her, see she’s not under any undue influence, and then he’ll leave.”
Saban’s body jerked tighter as a ready, dangerous tension filled him.
“What sort of undue influence would I be under?” Natalie turned back to watch Mike suspiciously. He could be paranoid, he could be a bastard, but he wasn’t normally insane.
Normally. She was starting to revise her opinion of that. He had that bulldog look on his face that assured her he was about to go off the deep end on her with one of his paranoid accusations.
“I
want to talk to her away from him,” Mike snapped at the sheriff then.
Sheriff Randolph grimaced as he glanced at Saban almost hesitantly. “Mr. Claxton, I can’t make her talk to you alone.” He glanced at Natalie then, his dark brown eyes intent, somber as he studied her. “It’s up to you, ma’am.”
“What the hell are you pulling here, Ted?” Saban snarled then. “Take your friend and get the hell out of here.”
Sheriff Randolph wasn’t buying something here. Natalie could see the suspicion in his eyes as he glanced from her to Saban, and she could see Mike’s anger growing.
“Saban, that’s enough.” The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. “Why don’t you and the sheriff go get coffee—”
“You think I’ll be relegated to the kitchen like a recalcitrant child and leave you alone with this madman?” He turned his head, his fierce green eyes pinning her with cold fire. “I don’t think so.”
She breathed in deeply and prayed for patience.
“I think you’re going to take the sheriff to the kitchen for coffee, and you’re going to do it without growling like a temperamental five-year-old.” She smiled back at him, a thin, furious curve of her lips. “Don’t make me think of an ‘or else.’ That’s just so tacky, and I do hate appearing tacky.”
Sheriff Randolph cleared his throat, obviously fighting a chuckle as Saban glowered back at her, one side of his lips curling back to display those wicked canines.
Canines that had pierced her shoulder, holding her in place more than once through the night as his tongue laved, and the hormone burned the wound.
He was a part of her. In a way no man could ever be a part of her. He was in her head, her blood, and she very much feared he might be a part of her heart. A part that would be destroyed if he continued to try to smother her.
“I don’t like this,” he growled. “He’s not stable.”
“I’m not stable?” Mike burst out, his eyes glittering with rage as he pinned her with his gaze. “For God’s sake, Natalie, look at what you’re shacked up with and tell me anything about that is logical. He’s an animal.”
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