Lion's Heat

CHAPTER 16

Logic. Sanity. They fell by the wayside the moment her tongue touched his. So sweet and cool, tempting, stroking against the tortured flesh of his own, Jonas lost what little control he had been hanging on to.

He felt that final thread snap as the man was pushed aside and the animal he'd sworn he would never become took over.

There was only the most distant awareness of the baby sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room. Just enough awareness so that when his hand clamped on the back of her head to hold her to the kiss, the other arm wrapping around her hips, lifting her, he knew he had to get her to the bedroom.

The journey there was endless, torturous. It was hell trying to stumble to the next room, his senses, his entire being focused on the rush of adrenaline-spiked pleasure tearing through his body. His leg caught the corner of the chest. He banged against the dresser. He kept his mate carefully sheltered from harm as his tongue pumped in her mouth, his harsh, "Suck it," a rasp of demented hunger before he filled her mouth with the mating hormone.

He was known as a graceful, predatory lover. A man who knew all the right moves. A Breed with the patience and experience to drive a woman wild for hours at a time.

That was the man.

The man wasn't in control now.

The graceful, predatory lover of the past was now primal. Possessive. It was starved for the mating, obsessed with the taste of this woman's kiss, the stroke of her hands over his body.

He was the animal that even he feared.

The glass doors on the two-sided fireplace had been secured from the bedroom earlier, but the fire blazed warm and bright, sending flickering fingers of red-gold over her face, along her body. The room was quiet, cool, but nothing could pierce the haze of fiery heat raging through his body.

A heat he knew he would regret, come morning. A pleasure that overshadowed anything that had come before it. Jonas knew there was nothing in his life that would ever compare to the complete, sensual bliss to be found in Rachel's touch. In touching her. Stroking her. In pumping his tongue in her mouth and feeling her suck at it lightly, tentatively.

Tomorrow, she would regret it. She would regret him, and he knew it. For now, his tongue was thrusting into his mate's mouth, fucking it with wild, primal hunger. The hormone spilled freely from the glands beneath his tongue now, as though the warmth of her mouth, the touch of her tongue, the gentle, pulsating sucks as she tried to capture it, had been all that was needed to end the agony he'd suffered for months.

There was no pleasure so great as holding her to him, feeling the soft, hesitant little licks and sucks against the agonized flesh of his tongue. As though each small stroke touched more than those swollen glands. It touched his soul, warmed it. Built a fire inside him where once there had been nothing but cold emptiness, a hollow, haunted shell of a man.

The more she gave him, the more he wanted.

His hands stroked down her back, over her hips and up again. As the soft material of her blouse caressed his palms, he felt the claws tucked beneath his fingertips slowly stretch forward, revealing themselves, reaching for the cool pleasure of her flesh.

Licking at her tongue, holding her close, Jonas felt the claws as they suddenly sliced through her soft white blouse.

He wanted to apologize. Ah God, he wanted to go so easy. He wanted to show her he could be a man, that he could touch her, love her, as he had so longed to do. But he had waited so long. The mating hormone had taken too much of a toll on his natural restraint. He didn't want to smell her fear. He didn't want to tear her from the arousal the hormone would ignite inside her.

But he couldn't wait. Even the few minutes it took for the hormone to react on a female's system was too much time for the animal. He needed her now. He had hungered for far too long.

He pulled the shreds of her blouse from her body, tossing them to the floor. The soft skirt came next. The feel of it was exquisite against his palms. The black velvet stroked over his flesh as his claws ripped through it, drawing a gasp from her as she pulled back, fought to free herself from his kiss.

"Rachel." His voice was fractured, more animal than man now, a harsh, primal sound that had him fighting to hold on to the restraint needed to not harm her.

As though the animal part of his genetics was a separate beast inside him, his mind railed at the thought, that even amidst this singular impulse of total sensation, he could never harm her.

"Let me breathe." She was panting for air, her hands gripping his wrists as his fingers fought not to clench at her hips. He could feel the silkiness of her flesh, knew how fragile it would be beneath the razor-sharp points of his claws.

Turning his hand, he stroked the backs of his fingers up her back, down. He needed to touch her, needed to experience the warmth and softness of her flesh without terrifying her.

He gave her a moment. His lips moved along her jaw, his incisors scraped against her flesh as his tongue lapped at her flesh, infusing each touch with the potency of the hormone spilling from the glands now.

He could feel her beginning to heat. Sensed the fires already igniting inside her body as they began to slowly, seductively, burn hotter.

The scent of it, the sweet rush of feminine lust and need, tore through his senses with the power to splinter his senses. He was losing all sense of place and time. Nothing else mattered--just this touch, this woman, nothing else.

His lips covered hers again, his tongue pushing into her mouth once again as he tore at his own clothes, desperate to meet her flesh with his own. He wanted her breasts bare against his chest, her hips silky and sweet sliding against his, her thighs parting, spreading for his.

Pumping his tongue past her lips, he growled again when she tried to pull back. Gripping the hair at the back of her head, Jonas held her still. One more minute. Just another second to relish the sweet, cool relief as the glands beneath his tongue began to ease marginally.

But with that relief came a stronger, more overwhelming urge. The urge to finally, fully, possess her. To mark her. To ensure that she was his mate, that no other could ever have the chance to take what belonged to him.

Pulling back from the kiss, he stared down at her, knowing he should force himself to show some restraint over the animal clawing to take it all at once, rather than relishing the sweet, supple taste of her.

The backs of his fingers traced down her spine, then up again to the middle of her shoulders. Watching her, seeing the heat that burned in her eyes, he let the smooth edge of his claw stroke over the curve of her breast, wondering if she could know, if she would feel the danger inherent in the touch. Claws that could rip, could shred, he swore would do nothing but bring her pleasure.

It was sure as hell bringing him pleasure. Jonas's entire body was blazing with fiery pleasure as he pulled her tighter against him, feeling the smooth, silken flesh of her belly cushion the hard length of his cock.

Warm, soft flesh.

He wanted to groan, but he growled into their kiss instead. His hands, both turned, the blunted side of the claws raking over the sides over her plump breasts as he felt her whimper, and her body weakening in need.

Pulling back, Jonas felt his own breath shorten as he stared down at the ripe mounds, tight, hard cherry nipples topping the firm flesh.

God, he couldn't resist.

Grimacing at the hunger inside him, he lifted his hand until he could touch the hardened tip with the back of a claw. Stroked it, fed the need ripping through his balls as he slowly began to realize that like the man, the animal overpowering him had no other thought but to protect the mate he had waited so long for as well.

Staring at the pale rise of her breast, his fingers stroking over it, shadowed by firelight, the image was a fantasy. It couldn't be real. Nothing in his life had ever looked so beautiful. Even freedom hadn't been as imperative to his life as this woman was.

"Jonas." Her gaze lifted, an edge of shock shadowing her darkened green eyes as she glanced back down at the claw that continually stroked against the tender, vulnerable flesh.

The slight curl at the tip of the claw eased over her nipple as she trembled before him. Jonas could feel the warmth of it brushing against the tip of his finger, the silken feel of it softer than anything he had ever known in his life.

Lifting his eyes, he gazed into her vulnerable green eyes, and knew he would give his life if he could ensure no more than her pleasure. She was worth more to him than his life, his freedom. And more surprising, she was worth more than the lives of those he had fought for all his life.

She was his world.

"I won't hurt you." He wanted to still the agonized sound of hunger in his voice, but found it impossible to do so.

She shook her head as a slow tremor raced through her body and the smell of her heat rushed through his senses like wildfire.

She wanted him. The silky heat of her juices was spilling between her thighs, preparing her for him.

He felt his nostrils flare. His body tightened further. His cock jerked, throbbed, and he hungered for more than just the scent of her. Sweet Lord, he hungered for the taste of her.

He wanted, and he didn't dare lay her across the bed. He didn't dare tempt himself so far, so soon.

He had to close his eyes as he lowered his head once more, his lips stroking down her neck, moving to the plump, ripe fruit of her nipple.

It beckoned. It tempted.

He stroked his tongue over one and had to fight to hold back because it tasted as sweet, as perfect as it looked. Curling his tongue over it, man and beast merged, melded, and as a single entity strove to pleasure the only mate he would ever know.

Rachel shuddered in Jonas's arms, the feel of his tongue, roughened just enough to rasp, to further heat the tight sensitivity of her nipple, was enough to send her head spinning.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders as her head fell back, her knees weakening. She wasn't going to be able to stand much longer. She couldn't bear pleasure like this. She didn't have the strength . . .

Her knees weakened further, causing her to stumble as his teeth raked against her nipple and caused a cry of incredible pleasure to tear from her lips.

"Jonas." A strangled cry tore from her lips as she felt herself falling, her legs refusing to hold her weight.

"I have you, baby." And he did. Shifting, moving, his lips still at her breasts, his tongue stroking from one nipple to the other as she felt herself lowering.

He moved, bent, knelt. Rachel felt the cool wood of the night table beneath the silk of her panties and the bare flesh of her thighs.

The small lamp tumbled to the floor. A harsh, ragged growl filled the fire-lit shadows of the room as her thighs were pushed apart. One foot she quickly placed on the edge of the bed, the other on the cushion of the chair beside the table. She was spread, opened; she was laid out for the hunger that flickered in his eerie, glowing gaze. Need, raging desire, emotions she was afraid to define, and a pleasure he did nothing to hide warred with something akin to fear in his gaze.

Rachel stared down at him, shaking like a leaf. Firelight flickered over him, painting his bronzed features in gold and shadow. Silver eyes glowed in the darkness as his hands lifted to her thighs, his claws raking down them, gently, so gently.

Lightning-fast, prickling sensations raced from that vulnerable area straight to her pussy and struck through it like a sensual blow. Her muscles clenched, desperate to be filled. Her clit throbbed, aching for touch.

"Oh God." Violent sensation tore through her vagina, burned with such amazing ecstasy that she found herself breathless, reaching, longing. The shards of pleasure were so intense, so incredible, she fought to close her thighs, to hold on to it forever.

She got a growl in return, a flash of strong white teeth as he pushed her thighs farther apart. Before she could protest, those claws hooked in the band of her panties and the sound of rending cloth echoed around her.

"Oh my God, Jonas." Her head fell back against the wall as she felt his breath against the heated folds, a whisper, a breeze of sensual, erotic hunger, a second before his tongue swiped through her pussy. Like a loving, luscious stroke of hunger, it delved through the juice-laden slit.

Friction. Just the smallest bite of sandpapery roughness and it nearly sent her over the edge before his head lifted again.

"You taste sweet, so sweet and soft." His voice rasped over her senses.

Lowering his head again, Rachel felt his lips bestow an intimate kiss. He sucked her clit just past his lips, flicked it with his tongue before releasing it. Soft, sucking kisses moved lower. His tongue emerged to tempt and tease, to taste with every little thrust into the folds of saturated flesh.

"I can't stand it," she panted.

She couldn't. Those erotic kisses were making her crazy, making her desperate to feel his cock press inside her.

Sliding his hands up her thighs, he gently parted the folds with claw-tipped fingers. So gently. The pricks of the sharp tips were another pleasure, a slice of exquisite sensation as he opened her farther, and licked.

He licked her like a treat, relishing every taste he found of her and throwing her senses into chaos.

He growled, the sound vibrating over the entrance to her pussy as she fought to memorize each touch.

Licking, stroking, his tongue worked through the curl-shrouded folds with hungry demand. It dipped into the entrance, thrust and flicked along the sensitive walls. It drove her into a maelstrom of fiery pleasure so intense she feared she would drown within it.

Returning to the distended, sensitive bud of her clitoris, his tongue curled around it, drew it between his lips and kissed it with slow, devastating movements of his lips as his tongue laved and stroked.

She couldn't believe the complete abandon in his expression, his pleasure as he ate her with decadent hunger. His claws stroked her thighs, giving a hidden element of danger, a reminder of the creature he was, man and animal, and completely devoted to her pleasure. A pleasure so destructive to her heart, her emotions, that she found herself reaching out to him with everything inside her.

She feared she couldn't survive it. Need was such a driving, deepening hunger that it overrode every thought, every instinct other than the one for his possession.

Looking down between her thighs, she watched as his tongue distended and slid through the glistening flesh. Probing, flicking around her clit, a cry tore from her throat at the sensation. Pleasure raced through her. It tingled up her spine, through her nerve endings, sped through her bloodstream until every cell of her body felt flushed with it.

It was too much. She arched, fighting to get closer, her hands gripping her knees as he pushed her legs farther apart and began to devour her with an intensity that hinted at his own desperation.

She hadn't thought it could get better. It did. His tongue pushed inside her, suddenly fucking her pussy with a demand that kept her poised on the edge of bliss. Each stroke was white-hot; each thrust rasped, tingled, sent a flush of agonizing pleasure tearing through her as it built the ever-increasing fire burning for complete possession.

She needed it all. She needed all of him.

"Jonas, please," she whimpered as she felt his claws stroking up her thighs once again.

Sweat glistened on his brow, his shoulders; a rumbling growl vibrated against her flesh. He drew her clit into his mouth again and began to suckle it. Silver eyes filled with living hunger lifted to hers and threw her over the edge.

It was an edge of complete release. A firestorm swept through her, hurled her through a kaleidoscope of color and had her screaming his name with what little breath she had left.

She was shaking, shuddering, aching, reaching for him. She watched as he rose to his feet, his hands gripping her shoulders to lift her to him.

She wanted more. He'd had his taste of her, devoured her until he destroyed her mind.

It was her turn.

The heavy, thick length of his cock was before her, the flushed crest dark and broad, branded with firelight, tempting her lips.

Drawing closer, she let her tongue swipe over the head as he tried to pull her to her feet.

He seemed to freeze. As though that lightest touch held him suspended, locked him into place.

He tasted wild, like the mountains themselves. Fresh, invigorating. The dampness of pre-come exploded against her tongue, and with that taste of the mountains was a hint of the cinnamon and cloves that filled the taste of his kiss.

It was an intoxicating elixir. It fed the need already burning inside her; like gasoline to flames, it exploded through her senses and sent fiery lashes of exquisite pleasure ripping through her.

It wasn't a gentle thing. The need that arose inside her wasn't tame or calm, it was as wild as the hunger that raged in his eyes, in his expression. As wild as the animal whose genetics he shared.

A moan of pleasure left her throat as her lips parted and she drew the engorged head into her mouth.

What had she unleashed?

Jonas's head fell back as his hands flew to her head, his fingers gripping it, holding her still, everything inside him fighting to pull free of the wicked grip of her lips.

Damn her. He was holding her still to keep her from moving on his cock, but she was still destroying him. She was suckling at the engorged head with greedy flexes of her mouth, licking over the crest of his dick as though he were a favored treat.

He couldn't resist. His hips flexed, shifted. He watched as the flushed, wide crest slid just to her lips, then he pressed inside once again.

Again. He did it again, and again. It was a pleasure so intense, so violent, he swore he felt his knees shaking for a moment before he tightened them. His entire body was taut, tense with lightning-fast, erotic fingers of sensation.

He was fucking her mouth with slow, easy strokes. The tight, wet grip, her flickering tongue drove him crazy with need, with hunger.

Ah God, he couldn't bear it. He fought it. He couldn't come like this. He couldn't risk whatever unknown results . . .

His hands locked on her head again, stopping the rapid strokes of her mouth. Not that it stopped her. Once again she sucked, her tongue flicked, rivulets of heated, pulsating pleasure wracking his balls as he forced himself to pull back, forced himself from the ecstatic grip of her lips.

Snarling, he fought to restrain the hunger racing through him and lost.

"I needed to tell you . . ." He turned her, pressed her hands to the wood table and urged her to bend over.

Like this. The wildness inside him would have it no other way. Only here, only behind her, could he grip her as he needed, could his teeth lock into her shoulder and the hormone in his tongue spill to her system with maximum results.

Gripping the shaft of his cock, he pressed it against her, grimacing at the feel of her juices lubricating the crown, slickening it to allow for easier penetration.

The tiny entrance of her vagina parted, sucking at the head as he pressed it closer, clenching, urging him inside.

Her back arched as the scent of her pleasure whipped around him. He had to fight to hold back a roar as she cried out when he pressed the head of his cock tighter against the slick, fiery portal of her sweet pussy.

Bending, he pushed inside, felt the tight gripping muscles as they began to part for him, his cock bare as he began to forge his way into the sleek heat of her pussy.

"I'm sorry, Rachel." He felt the sweat drip down his face, watched as it fell to her shoulder a second before his lips moved to the vulnerable bend of her neck.

He was going to bite her. He could feel it. Animalistic, pounding, the strident demand of the animal was impossible to ignore.

Right there. Close to the heavy vein that meant life or death.

She was shaking. He felt her shuddering even as he felt the snug, wet heat of her body gripping him.

He was losing all restraint. He was losing his grip on what little awareness he had. There was nothing but the woman, nothing but the pleasure. Nothing but the fist-tight grip enveloping his cock as a snarl tore from his lips and he powered inside her.

Rachel's back arched.

Pleasure-pain streaked through her as she felt the sudden, fierce thrust that parted the tender tissue and filled her with exquisite, blinding heat.

She couldn't hold on. Her nails dug into the edge of the table as she began to move, her hips thrusting back, her muscles clenching on him as he began to move behind her.

His hips rolled, knees bent. She felt his claws at her hips, digging in with stinging heat, a pleasure-pain that added to the deep, driving thrusts inside her body as he fucked her deep, hard.

With her back to him, she had no choice but to concentrate on the pleasure. There were no distractions. She couldn't see his eyes, couldn't watch his expression, and it combined to send pleasure screaming through her system.

She was flying through ecstasy. She was thrown past reality into a world where nothing but the blistering, driving hunger existed. Where nothing mattered but this moment, this man. This pleasure.

It built inside her, tightening, tensing, burning. Wracking shudders raced up her spine. Agony gripped her clit as she felt the world beginning to unravel around her.

The explosion that resulted had her gasping his name. Nothing had ever been like this. Nothing had burned with such heat, stroked with such pleasure, or exploded with such shattering results.

Jonas felt it. The clench, the fist-tight grip that only became snugger, hotter. The rush of liquid heat, the shudders that raced through her body.

The pulsing, suckling grip she had on his cock was too much. Pleasure conflagrated. A fiery storm of sensation tore up his spine, tightened in his abdomen and exploded in his balls.

Before he could stop the impulse, his teeth locked in that sweet, soft area of her shoulder. The sharp tips pierced the flesh, the iron-sharp taste of her blood exploding against his rapidly licking tongue.

As his release tore through him, the barb emerged from beneath the head of his cock, extended, locking him inside her milking pussy, and began to heat his entire body with the powerful, minute release that detonated inside it.

His body was a mass of ecstatic pleasure. Powerful, brutal, primal in its intensity, building and burning inside him until his head jerked back from her neck and a hard, strangled roar left his lips.

His mate.

His.

His gift. His life.

He had betrayed her the moment that he had allowed her kiss. In this second, now, spilling his seed inside her, he had the horrifying realization that without Rachel, without her touch, her laughter, her warmth, his life held no meaning.

With that thought came the understanding, the knowledge, that when morning came, he might lose her warmth as well as her laughter.

What woman would welcome being mated to a monster?