Dark Blood(54)

The mist around them began to glow a strange golden red. Her body was hot—everywhere. Her hair gave off sparks, crackling with fire, the red deep and true. Streaks of gold leapt like flames dancing out of control through the silken mass of her braid.

His hands felt rough on her skin, a contrast to her own smooth skin. His expression, when she looked down at him, had gone feral, his wolf’s eyes hungry and focused, making her heart pump wildly and the tension in her feminine core coil tighter.

He swiped his tongue through her folds and she cried out, her hand going to his hair, fisting there as sensations poured through her body like fuel on a fire. She wasn’t certain either of them would survive the conflagration building in her like a volcano.

He began to lap at her like the hungry wolf he was, stealing every bit of cinnamon honey he could pull from her body. His hands were hard, holding her thighs apart, holding her hips still as he indulged his whim of devouring her. Her cries rose to a crescendo, but he didn’t stop. Her fist yanked at his hair, but his mouth was merciless. The fire built and built, raged and roared, but he refused to stop, taking her to the edge of some dark precipice, but never quite letting her fall over.

When she was certain she would go mad with need, when her pleas rang through the glowing mist, he took her to the soft grass, his clothes gone. He looked absolutely intimidating kneeling over her. She could barely breathe, barely think, her head tossing back and forth, her hips writhing and bucking.

He stroked her center with one long finger. Her body arched, her mouth opening in a silent scream. “I love how responsive you are, but hold still. I don’t want to lose all control until I know you’re ready for me.”

She was ready? Was he crazy? How much readier could she get? If he didn’t do something soon she was going to spontaneously combust.

This time he stroked a finger inside of her, sinking deep while her muscles clamped around him tightly. His breath hissed out. “So hot. That’s right, mon chaton féroce. Burn for me.”

How could she not? Only he could put out the fire he’d started and he wasn’t cooperating. A small sobbing gasp escaped as a second finger sank with the first, stretching her. Again the bite of pain added to the electrical charges streaking through her bloodstream, finding every bundle of nerves in her body and igniting them.

She whimpered when he removed his fingers, but a heartbeat later, they were back . . . Not his fingers this time. Her heart pounded as he began to push inside of her. He held her legs straight up into the air, kneeling between her thighs so her legs were spread wide, to more easily accommodate his invasion. He was unyielding as he entered her, not slowing, but a patient steady pressure, forcing her body to accept his. Her muscles fought him, but gave way as he continued that ceaseless forward pressure until he lodged against a barrier.

Zev gasped. Swore. “You’re so damned tight and hot.” He managed to get the words out between clenched teeth. He had to fight to keep from losing control. He needed another minute and she had to stay still. Her sheath was heaven, fiery silk, alive and scorching hot, surrounding him, gripping him tightly and stealing all discipline. He didn’t want to hurt her and ruin this moment for both of them.

Branislava was senseless, writhing under him, trying to force him into her, her body desperate for his. He brought his hand down hard on her buttocks. Her eyes flew open, her gaze widening. Around his cock, hot liquid spilled out, enfolding him. Her nerve endings were wired for pleasure and everything he did seemed to add to it.

“Hold still,” he snarled, baring his teeth at her in warning.

She gasped and tried to obey. He didn’t wait for her to lose control again, he surged forward, driving deep, claiming her body for himself. He was a large man and he knew it would take her body a little bit of time and effort to fully accommodate him. He lodged against her womb, watching her for signs of discomfort.

Branislava’s eyes pleaded with him as her head tossed back and forth. Yanking her legs over his shoulders, spreading her even wider, he let his wolf loose. He began to surge into her, thrusting hard, over and over, setting a relentless, merciless rhythm. Each stroke sent flames burning hotter, her sheath winding tighter, or maybe his cock swelled even more, but the friction bordered on ecstasy.

He wanted more, always more, driving deeper, until at times he feared he might lodge in her stomach, but the pleasure engulfed him, wrapping him in her fire. He had known all along she would be like this, hot and wild, her passion a match for his. He was rough with her, and she answered with pleas for more, wanting, like him, to burn in that inferno.

Around them, spreading out from beneath her, the ground began to glow as if their wild joining drew the magma deep from beneath the earth itself. Tiny tongues of red and gold licked at the grass surrounding them, but he couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it. His breathing became harsh, and his lungs burned for air. The cooling mist settled over his body like a thousand tongues as around him the world seemed to erupt into flames.