An Inconvenient Mate

Chapter Eight

Your lips touched mine.

He couldn’t bear to feel her pain.

As the room emptied and the door snicked closed quietly behind Rule, Malachi turned his mate to his chest and held her there.

For the first time in his life he didn’t just sense the pain, or scent it. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. It wrapped around his heart, his soul, and squeezed with a merciless grip.

“What’s going on?” she whispered against his chest as she felt his hands smoothing down the silken material of her dress to her hips and back to just below her shoulders. There, his fingers tangled in the long waves of her hair, twisting them around to pull her head back.

“I don’t know what’s going on, baby,” he told her, keeping his voice low, the pain emanating from her still too strong for his comfort.

It made the animal inside him rage, desperate to take the pain away and replace it with something more. Something more intimate. Something that would resonate with pleasure rather than pain.

Lowering his head, he let his lips settle over hers. Gently. The glands beneath his tongue were swelling in response to the emotions rising inside him, just as they had since the moment he had laid eyes on her.

Flicking his tongue against her lips, parting them, he let his lips fuse with hers before parting them farther and finding her tongue with his.

As though the taste of the mating heat was as much an addiction for her as the taste of her kiss was becoming for him, she immediately drew the taste of him into her. For lush, impossibly ecstatic seconds her lips captured his tongue and drew the heat from it.

Pulling back from her, his lips slanted over hers, rubbed against them, parted them with his, and they shared the taste. Mating heat fused them together, but Malachi knew where the heat came from: from the hearts of two souls that had searched the night.

Pulling the dress from her, he could only groan in anticipation and rising hunger as she released his pants.

There were no boots to take off this time—he’d met his visitors in bare feet, just as she had. It took only seconds to strip the pants from his legs and lift her to him, but the bed wasn’t an option. As he palmed her breasts and took her kiss again, his thumbs flicked at her pebble hard nipples, rasping over them as he backed her the few feet to the couch and felt the primal instincts that rose inside him crashing through his control.

She was his mate. The need to take her, to mark her, to indelibly imprint himself on her was tearing through his senses like wildfire.

Though she had stood beside him and defended the accusations brought against him earlier, still, there had been an instinctive hesitation. The need of the daughter to give in to the father, to obey and accept the protection she had known all her life.

That hesitancy had terrified him. For the briefest second Malachi had felt pure, gut-wrenching fear, certain he would have to fight for her and chance destroying them both in the effort.

That streak of pride and independence had held her to him, for the moment. Now, God help him, the animal inside him was tearing loose now and asserting its determination to tie her irrevocably to him.

“Malachi,” she whispered on a desperate sigh, her nails biting into his bare shoulders as he backed her to the couch before allowing his lips to trail to the sensitive column of her neck.

The ripple of response raced up her spine, sending the scent of summer heat to fill his senses. The smell of her passion, her sweet, soft, feminine lust, was the most intoxicating scent. He could live on it. He could survive the rest of his life with no other scent in his head.

The growl that rumbled in his chest surprised him. It was more animalistic than normal. It came from deeper inside him, from the depths of his diaphragm to vibrate in his throat, and sent a shiver chasing up Isabelle’s back.

That response heralded the heated scent of her pussy and signaled the rush of her slick juices as her body prepared for him.

His cock, already engorged and throbbing in hunger, pulsed with a demand he’d never known before. He could feel the mating fluid building in the shaft as his balls tightened in a pleasure-pain that had that damned growl rumbling again. It was uncontrollable. It was primal and heralded a rush of hunger that stripped him to the depths of his being and to the animal that resided there.

Isabelle could feel the need rising like a storm inside her and racing through her bloodstream like a drug determined to overtake her. It wasn’t just determined. It was definitely overtaking her. Washing through her body with a wave of heat as Malachi’s lips blazed a path of fire down her neck.

Once he reached the small, sensitive wound he’d made earlier, his tongue brushing across it, Isabelle swore she nearly climaxed. A rush of sensation tore through the mark as a hungry kiss was applied to it before his lips began nipping and kissing their way to her breasts.

Her nipples were tight, hard with excitement. As she arched to him, Isabelle felt the brush of the fine hairs of his chest against them, the rasping pleasure dragging a whimpering moan from her chest.

She couldn’t get enough of him. Not enough of his kiss, his touch, or the incredible pleasure that seemed to invade every cell of her body.

“I can’t wait.” The sound of his voice was part animal, part human. An equal mix of who and what he was and from where he had come.

“No one asked you to wait,” she cried out as his hand moved between her thighs, his fingers finding the moisture that lay on her thighs and following it to the swollen folds of her cunt.

Parting the saturated flesh, he found the clenched, sensitive entrance, rimmed it then, and with a dominant, exciting thrust, filled the snug channel with two powerful fingers.

Isabelle went to her tiptoes, her cry muffled against his chest as her flesh clenched involuntarily, becoming tighter and rippling around his fingers.

“Malachi.” She cried out his name as his lips found the tight, hardened peak of a nipple. Arching closer to him, she cried out again as he began to suckle the tip with strong, heated draws of his mouth.

Whatever the incredible taste that flowed from the glands beneath his tongue, the presence of it on his tongue now increased the sensitivity of her nipple. It hardened further, becoming so tight and peaked that the pleasure-pain of it had her nails curling against the flesh of Malachi’s shoulders.

Her hips moved, writhed as she worked her pussy on his fingers, her clit rasping against the pad of his hand as he curved it against her.

Her juices were flowing over his fingers, saturating them as she whimpered with the rising desperation to climax.

She was close. She could feel it building, burning in the pit of her womb, the release she was reaching for so desperately tightening through her.

“Not like this.” The words rasped from his lips as he straightened, his fingers immediately pulling free of the heated clasp of her pussy.

“No. Malachi, please . . .”

He nipped her shoulder. As a gasp of pleasure tore from her lips, he pulled back once again before gripping her shoulders, turning her around quickly and pushing her to the couch.

“On your knees,” he growled as he pushed her down.

Catching her weight on her elbows against the high, thick pad of the armrest, she felt him coming behind her, over her.

Covering her like a warm, sensual blanket, a sexual creature intent on possession, Malachi braced his hand next to her elbow as he positioned the width of his cock at the entrance to her sex.

Immediately the heavy spurt of sexual fluid erupted against her entrance, heating her further. The flesh there became more sensitive, clenching tightly even as it stretched easier beneath the penetrating width of his cock.

Another spurt of slickening fluid invaded her, increasing the sensitivity, the pleasure that whipped through her senses. She could barely breathe. The stretching impalement of his flesh inside hers was like a whirlwind of sensations so intense, so brilliant she could only writhe in response. She pressed back, feeling her vagina milking the heavy width, drawing it deeper inside her as he worked his hips against her with strong, shallow thrusts.

“You’re mine.” With his lips at her ear, he made the declaration in that rasping animalistic tone that only increased her arousal.

“You’re . . . oh my God, Malachi.” Her back arched as he thrust inside her deeper, harder, sending spasms of sensation to throb through her pussy and echo to the swollen bud of her clit.

She was panting for air, tiny cries spilling from her lips until she wailed in pleasure as he pushed to the hilt inside her with a final thrust and a last spurt of the preseminal fluid that seemed to help the ability of her sex to take the incredibly wide cock that filled her to overflowing.

“You’re mine!” she cried out, making her declaration match his. “Just the same, Malachi.”

She was sobbing with the pleasure and couldn’t seem to stop it. Pinned as she was, her hips arched to him, her cheek against the side of the armrest, she felt the violently sensitive nerve endings come alive inside her as he began to move.

He fucked her with hard, heavy strokes. Burying himself full-length inside her, Malachi had no hesitation, no doubts while impaling her with animal-like force, one hand gripping a hip, the other sliding over her as he braced his elbow against hers.

His fingers clasped hers. In a gesture as old as time and as intimate as a kiss.

“There, baby, fuck me back,” he groaned as she worked her hips back on the width of his cock. “Milk me inside. Let me feel that sweet pussy take me, Isabelle.”

The explicit words spoken at her ear had her body jumping with pleasure. She couldn’t remain unaffected, nor could she stop moving, even if she tried. Nothing mattered but the tightening spirals of sensation beginning to tug at the nerve endings in her pussy and throbbing in her clit.

Behind her, Malachi was thrusting rhythmically, with each penetration pushing into her to the hilt as she cried out, writhed and thrust back on the heavy stalk of flesh.

She was dying beneath the onslaught of pleasure. There was no way she could survive it, she told herself, even as she rushed headlong into the burning release awaiting her.

When it hit, it enveloped her in white hot flames. Shards of bliss began ripping through her senses, and when he buried himself one last time and that first spurt of release began jetting inside her, she felt the incredible presence of the additional thickening in his cock as it stretched her farther.

Locked inside her, his release spurting to the very mouth of her womb as each heavy throb of his cock extended her release, Isabelle felt all the world disintegrate. All but the part of existence that she and Malachi inhabited. That was all that existed, all that sustained them.

And within that world, within the fiery haze of pleasure, pain and swirling intensity, nothing mattered as much as the beat of his heart against her back, his teeth locked at the flesh between shoulder and neck, and the man as bound to her as she knew she was now bound to him.

Nothing mattered but the bonds that she knew would hold them together and the hunger that would never abate.

And when all was said and done, the most important part was being his mate.