Soul Deep

Chapter Six

Amanda was certain she died when his tongue followed the path of his fingers. Slowly, languorously his tongue worked the snug little valley, gathering the juices that had pooled along it as she bucked at his lips.

His hands held her hips tight as he licked through folds of flesh that had never known a man’s touch.

Reality receded, she no longer cared who he was, what his name was, or what he intended to do with her after he was finished. All she knew was the blistering need slamming through her system, and his hot tongue licking over her flesh like fire.

He moaned into her pussy, licked and sucked at the smooth folds of flesh, then his tongue moved higher, finally, oh dear God, finally rasping over her burning clit.

“Yes,” she moaned deliriously. “Oh yes, please, please…”

He growled, a low animalistic sound as his tongue circled the tight little bud, torturing her with her need for release, swamping her with a pleasure so brutal she could barely make sense of what was going on.

“Like that?” he whispered, his breath blowing over the straining mass of nerves.

“Yes.” She needed more, needed him closer.

“You taste perfect,” he growled. “Like hot honey syrup, smooth and sweet on my tongue.”

She whimpered, her head twisting on the bed as she fought the need to beg for more.

“Do you want to come, baby?” he asked, his voice wickedly teasing. “Your little clit is so hard and swollen. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

“Yes,” she cried. “Do you want me to beg?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed, a low dark sound. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.”

She was beyond shame. Beyond the normal boundaries of virgin hesitance.

“Suck it,” she begged, “suck my clit. Hard. Do it hard. Like you did my nipples.”

“Mmm.” The vibration of pleasure as he licked through the burning slit nearly sent her over the edge.

“Do you like it when I hurt you?” he asked her. “When I pinched your little nipples and tugged at them with them my teeth?”

“Oh God.” She shook like a leaf in a hurricane. “Yes. I do. Please, please do something.”

His fingers slid through her juices, moving down, caressing over the entrance to her vagina before circling the little puckered hole of her rear. She jerked at the caress but lay still, shaking as he did it again, then again. The fourth time she choked on a cry as the tip of his finger slid into her.

Fire. Heat.

He gathered more of her juices and repeated the movement, over and over again as his tongue licked at her swollen pussy, until she screamed with the building pressure when his finger slid deep, deep inside her burning rear.

His lips clamped on her clit then, his tongue rasping it as he sucked it into his mouth. His finger moved inside her, fucking into the untouched channel and sending those much needed, hungry flames burning through her body.

So close. She was so close… Another finger joined the first then, working into her, stretching her, burning her as his mouth suckled her, his tongue flicking pressing, destroying her.

When her climax hit, she screamed. She couldn’t stop the sound, couldn’t control the response. Fire was streaking through her ass, burning her alive with the pleasure and the pain as she exploded with such force, such overwhelming response, that nothing mattered, nothing existed but the conflagration tightening her body and burning her alive.

Until… “Hell, Kiowa, you were supposed to protect her, not fuck her.”

What happened next was little more than a hazy realization of a blanket being jerked over her as—Kiowa?—came over her with a gun aimed at the door and a growl that sounded all too animal-like.

“Damn, Simon, forget the gun in his hand, look at that dick!” the female who had entered crooned with husky appreciation.

Kiowa growled again, frustration eating him alive as Stephanie’s dark, wide eyes centered between his body where he crouched over Amanda.

The slender, pretty, female mercenary stood beside her much taller lover, Simon Quatres, who grimaced with male distaste.

“Down, girl,” he muttered, before giving a Kiowa a hard look. “Could you put some pants on or something?”

He could still smell Amanda’s arousal, sweet and hot. Beneath him, she stared back at Simon and Stephanie in dazed fascination, though he could feel the fine shudders working through her body as he tasted the essence of her need on his lips. And he wanted more.

Cursing he jumped from the bed and dragged his jeans over his hips before struggling to pull the zipper over an erection that howled in discontent at the confinement.

“Your timing sucks, Simon,” he snapped when he turned back to them, but his gaze went to Amanda.

She was staring up at him, dazed, almost drugged. But there had been no signs of drugs, he would have sensed it first thing. He frowned, moving closer to check her dilated pupils and feel the warmth of her skin.

Her whispered moan as he touched her had his senses screaming in demand. She needed to be fucked. He could smell it on the air around her, taste it on his lips, feel it surging like a wave of heat around him.

And he wanted to fuck her, so damned bad it made his back teeth hurt.

“You know, for a damned careful man, you’re making some major mistakes here,” Simon said then. “Did you forget who she was by chance? Maybe her would-be attackers hit you on the head or something?”

Simon’s blue eyes regarded him with sharp disapproval.

“I didn’t forget who she was,” he snarled back. “Let it alone and tell me what the hell happened to her Secret Service detail.”

Simon grunted. “Strange thing going on there, buddy,” he said sarcastically. “Gloria and the Ladies showed up at her place. No dead bad guys and the Goof Troup was in place next door safe and sound. All we found was a little blood on the back walk and it looked like several other patches of it had been carefully erased. Someone was busy.”

Someone was playing games.

Kiowa breathed in deeply, fighting to ignore the smell of hot willing flesh just behind him. Dammit, it wasn’t like he did without sex. He shouldn’t be so fucking aroused, so hungry to devour that sweet little body laid out like a pasha’s favorite toy.

“Any ideas?” he asked Simon then.

Simon shrugged, his shoulders flexing beneath the dark T-shirt he wore as he glanced at Amanda again.

“Word reached me there was a hit planned. Just as Dash told you. The blood supremacists have plans to use her to influence the vote next week on Breed Law. Somehow, they must have found a way to keep her disappearance from leaking to the general public. Though how they intended to do that I have no clue. Someone real close to President Marion would have to be involved in it.”

The other man’s eyes flickered to the bed behind Kiowa again. Turning, Kiowa wished he had stayed put. She was shifting beneath the blankets, a low, weak moan filling the air.

“Did you drug her?” Simon’s tone was suspicious as he watched the girl.

“No, and they didn’t either.” He pushed his fingers through his long black hair and fought to get a handle on his hunger. “Damned if know what happened. They hit her on the head, but if she was drugged, I can’t sense it.”

And Kiowa was damned good at sensing drugs.

“She’s not exactly aware.” Stephanie stepped closer to the bed, a frown marking her dark brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had a dose of Rohypnol.”

Kiowa ground his teeth together furiously. “You think I need to pump someone full of date rape drugs to get fucked, Steph?”

Her eyes widened innocently. “With that dick? Duh. I’m certain of it. But I was accusing them more than you.”

“I know what that shit smells like.” He grimaced. He knew only too well. “She’s not drugged.”

Simon moved to the bed while Kiowa felt every muscle in his body tense in objection to the other man going anywhere near her.

She shifted on the bed again, the blanket moving with her splayed, bound legs as her breasts heaved beneath it. He tightened his jaw, gritting his teeth as another wave of heat washed over him.

Simon reached for the blanket.

The warning growl that came from Kiowa’s throat was accompanied by a snarl. He knew what the others saw. Curved canines flashing at the side of his mouth as he moved quickly to push Simon out of the way.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” The low, rumbling sound of his voice shocked him as much as it did Simon.

“This is a problem, Kiowa.” He frowned then, his blue eyes flashing in anger. “If she dies, we’re up shit creek.”

“She’s not going to die,” he snapped, certain of that fact.

“Kiowa, pay attention here,” Simon spoke with sarcastic patience. “You’re not a stupid man. Look at her. Something is fucking wrong with her.”

“Goddammit I know that,” he shot back, frustration eating at him. “The same fucking thing is wrong with me, now get the hell off my back.”

He paced to the end of the bed. Bad idea. The smell of her arousal was like a punch to his gut. Something was wrong, and damned if it wasn’t killing him too.

“Call him.” He turned on Simon again. “Now!”

Simon’s eyes widened. “Man, you don’t just call him. He calls you.”

She moaned again, a low distressed sound that twisted his gut and made his cock jerked in demand.

“Simon, you have three seconds to call him,” he snarled. “After that I’m going to rip your fucking head off your shoulders and jerk your guts out your throat. And I can do it.”

He was one of the few men that would try.

“You’re gonna get my ass kicked,” Simon snarled.

“Better kicked than dead,” Kiowa retorted. “Don’t push me Simon. I want to talk to him now.”

Simon jerked the cell phone from its hip holder and punched a button furiously before handing the phone to Kiowa.

“What?” The voice at the other end was wary, careful.

“We have a problem,” Kiowa reported, his patience straining to the limit as he listened to a series of pauses and low clicks that indicated added security to the line.

“What’s the problem?” Dash Sinclair wasn’t known for his friendly personality or his patience with problems. His military training and danger surrounding him and his family made for one very suspicious man.

“Babysitting duty has gone sour,” he snapped tightly. “She was hit on the head but woke up fine. Now, she’s showing all the signs of date rape drugs with none of the drug in her system. She’s in distress…” Damn, so was he. He was about to come in his jeans with each little whimpering moan from her throat.

“Shit!” The sizzling curse that came across the line surprised him. Dash didn’t upset easily. “Did you kiss her?”

Kiss her?

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Listen to me, you mangy asshole,” Dash snapped, causing Kiowa to grimace at the insult. “Did you or did you not kiss her?”

“Yes,” he snarled back. “She was getting ready to scream, I kissed her. Now what the hell does that have to do with shit?”

“God, if Callan doesn’t lift the restriction on this information someone is going to get killed,” Dash muttered. “Listen to me Kiowa; you have a shit load of problems here.”

“It was a kiss,” he bit out. “Do you think I’ve never kissed a woman before? It never hurt one before.”

“You weren’t kissing your fucking mate before either,” Dash snarled, causing Kiowa to still in shock. “Is your tongue swollen?”

Swollen? It was throbbing as hard as his dick was.

“Kiowa?” Dash snapped seconds later. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Sir,” he replied without thinking, the military tone Dash used snapping into his brain when nothing else could.

“Damn.”

“What?” Kiowa snarled. “Explain it.”

“No time and not enough security,” Dash informed him, his voice turning cold. “Hold on.”

Hold on? Amanda arched beneath the blanket again, her head twisting on the mattress as she whimpered heatedly. The smell of her juices had his body on fire, his mouth watering for the taste of her sweet little pussy.

His hand clenched the phone as he fought the need to push Simon and Steph from the room. If he didn’t get his cock in her soon he was going to go insane.

“No extraction available,” Dash suddenly snapped. “Proceed to Alpha location and await further information.”

Dash snorted. That was just his luck, no way to get a helicopter to him and now Dash was sending him to the one place guaranteed to get him killed.

“Yeah, right, Major,” he growled. “Like I can get in there.”

“Clearance has been arranged and explanations will be given. In the meantime, don’t kiss her again, and do nothing to heighten her arousal. Get your ass there now, Kiowa, and hers. You don’t have time to spare. Now let me talk to Simon.”

He handed the phone to the other man as he moved to release the ties that bound Amanda’s slender ankles. The three-inch heels on the leather ankle boots were so damned sexy he wanted to howl at the sight of it. And those red stockings were enough to make a man come in his jeans.

Leaving the blanket on her, he ignored Simon’s part of the conversation as well as the extra call he made seconds later. Kiowa untied Amanda’s hands instead, massaging the fragile wrists as she turned to him.

“I’m cold,” she whispered, lifting drowsy eyes to his.

“I know, baby.” He kept his voice soft, as gentle as possible as he discreetly straightened her clothes and wrapped her snuggly in the blanket.

She didn’t smell cold though. She smelled hot and sweet and ready to take every inch of his throbbing cock.

“Tell me what’s wrong with me.” Her voice was slurred, her eyes so dilated that only a fragile ring of color remained.

“You’re going to be fine, baby,” he whispered against her forehead, laying a kiss on the damp flesh as she trembled in his arms.

“We have a Grand Cherokee outside,” Simon reported as he hung the phone up. The two of you can lie in the back. I’ll drive. Keep her down, yourself as well. We’ll arrive at Alpha location early morning.”

Kiowa glanced at the clock. It was barely ten, would he last that long?

“Steph, go outside and watch the area. We have to load her up and get the hell out of here before anyone tracking can find us. Gloria and the others will ride shotgun. Let’s head out.”

The backseat in the Grand Cherokee had been lowered, the vehicle backed close to the door with the back door swung open. Kiowa carried his hot little burden out the door and finally managed to wedge his long frame in beside hers.

Pillows from the motel bed cushioned their heads as the back was closed and Simon and Steph jumped into the front. It wasn’t a pillow Amanda Lee Marion wanted though.

She curled against Kiowa’s chest, the blanket covering her falling away enough to allow her to press one swollen hard-tipped breast into his chest.

“How far is the fucking compound from here?” he growled as he glanced at Simon between the seats.

The other man was trying really hard not to laugh. Kiowa made a mental note to kick his ass when the hard-on went down enough to allow for it.

“Almost six hours,” Stephanie answered him quietly. “We’re taking back roads more than interstate just in case. So far, nothing has been reported on her abduction or any sign that anyone knows anything is awry. With any luck, we’ll reach Virginia without problem.”

No problems for her maybe.

Kiowa couldn’t stop himself from holding Amanda closer as she pressed into him, her leg lifting to hug his close, pressing his thigh against her wet pussy. And she was wet. God, she was so wet he just wanted to go between her thighs and drown in her.

Another soft little moan left her throat as he helplessly pressed harder against her, rasping her straining clit with his thigh as she arched in his arms.

“Turn the fucking radio on, Quatres,” he snarled, holding her head close, furious that the other man would hear those unbidden, soft little moans.

“No kissing, Kiowa,” Simon reminded him sternly as he flipped the radio on and the soft, haunting sounds filled the Jeep. “And no touching.”

Fuck it. He could touch all the hell he wanted. She was sliding against his body like silk and satin and he would be damned if he could keep his hands to himself. But he did want that kiss.

His tongue was tight and swollen, small glands at the side of it throbbing almost painfully. This was damned strange. Sex had never been like this, nor had arousal.

His mate. Dash Sinclair’s words rolled over him as Amanda’s soft little hands kneaded his chest. She was his mate?

Coyotes weren’t supposed to have loyalty or emotions, let alone mates. Somehow, a few of them had been lucky enough to know loyalty, to create friends and keep them. Some, like Kiowa, had been raised outside the prisons, but the life he had led himself hadn’t exactly inspired the need for loyalties, though he had made a few.

His hand smoothed down her back, his fingers clenching in the full curve of her buttock as her hot little lips found his nipple beneath his shirt.

His teeth clenched as a hard breath escaped his throat. Fuck. Her teeth were working him with exquisite heat, her tongue stroking over the fabric of the shirt as her hands moved sluggishly to press beneath the bottom of the material.

He threw his head back, closed his eyes and fought the need. A need so intense, so all-consuming he doubted he would make it an hour, let alone six.