Styx's Storm (Breeds 16)

Pressing her heel into the leather of the couch, she arched to him, breasts and hips pressing into him as her head fell back, giving him leave to caress the fragile line of her throat.

The material of her T-shirt eased up her torso. Releasing his hair, Storme stretched her arms over her head, allowing him to peel the shirt from her before he tossed it away and jerked his own over his head.

Opening her lashes, Storme stared up at the warrior poised above her. With the long red hair, the ocean blue eyes and the tough, hard contours of his chest and muscled biceps, he could have been a warrior of centuries past. A seductive, dominant warrior determined to possess.

Rising, moving back with one knee in the couch, the other on the floor, he trailed his fingers down her stomach to the snap of her jeans.

Within seconds they were both naked and Storme was reaching for him with all the desperate need for the warmth that was so much a part of him.

"Not yet," he growled, pushing her hands back as he spread her thighs and gazed down at the bare folds of her pussy. "I've dreamed of tasting you, Storme. Of licking that silken bare pussy like the precious treat I know it's going to be."

Her womb clenched in response, a punch of sensation vibrating through it as lust speared straight to the heart of her sex. Beneath his darkening gaze she felt the folds heat, become plumper as her clit swelled with responsive need.

"Touch yourself for me, lass," he whispered, his gaze flicking to hers before lowering once again between her thighs. "Let me see the pleasure you can give yourself first. Tease me, lass, until I'm ready to burn alive for ye."

She nearly lost her breath; definitely she was losing her senses. As Styx moved to kneel on the floor beside her, her fingers slipped down her stomach to the wet heat of her sex.

Never had she felt so sensual, so sexual. There was something about that wicked challenge in his gaze that called out to the temptress she'd always wondered if she could be.

Her breath caught as she circled her clit slowly and Styx's chest rumbled with a low vibration of pleasure. With one hand he gripped the hard, flushed shaft of his cock as he pressed her thighs farther apart with the other.

The bare folds beneath her fingers parted as the slick juices of her arousal clung to her fingers. The feel of her own fingers stroking the sensitive, intimate flesh rarely brought her to release. But as he watched, his gaze darker, his expression tight, she felt the pleasure beginning to burn along her flesh and settle in the sensitive tissue of her pussy.

Her touch moved to her clit as he parted the intimate folds with his fingers, parting her, sending swift flares of desperate heat exploding through her pussy and traveling through her body as he watched her caress herself.

"There, love," he crooned. "Stroke your pretty clit, show me your pleasure as I feel it trembling through you."

Her head twisted on the leather cushions as her hips arched, driving the penetration deeper. She wanted him inside her, wanted him filling her. Moving against her clit, her fingers elicited exquisite pleasure. Opening her eyes, she gazed back at him, a whimpering sound of agonizing need passing her lips.

"Tell me what you need, lass," he crooned as his fingers parted the swollen lips and caressed the edges of the clenched opening with firm, sensual strokes.

"You know what I need," she gasped, fighting to breathe as the hunger for it struck at her womb, clenching it almost violently.

"Nay, lass, not unless you tell me," he urged her, his voice tight, deep and rough. "Tell me, little Storme. Tell me what you need."

"Oh God!" She couldn't handle it. She needed it so bad it was like an addiction. "Fuck me, Styx."

"Ah, lass, then I'll no' be able to watch you stroke your wee clit. Soon, I promise."

She shook her head desperately as he rubbed the snug entrance to her pussy, playing with it, stroking it as she arched closer, tried to force his fingers inside her.

"Is there not something I can do for you instead, love?"

She stared back at him, her tongue running over her lips as she gathered her courage.

"Fuck me, Styx," she moaned again. "With your fingers." Sensation speared her clit as she stroked it, as she spoke the need tearing through her. "Fill me. Please, please fill me."

A cry tore from her. Her hips jerked, arching high as one finger thrust deep and hard inside the sensitive muscles, parting them with a swift, fiery thrust of pure pleasure.

She was burning out of control.

As her fingers moved over her clit, stroking against the side of the tender bud, and her thighs spread wider, she gasped, "More. Styx, please. Please more."

She needed that stretching burn. She needed the extremity of the pleasure-pain she knew he could give her.

Shards of heat pierced her vagina, wrapped around her clit and sent the heated dampness of her arousal to coat his fingers as her hips writhed beneath their combined touch.

She wanted to beg, but she could barely breathe for the need. She wanted to scream at him . . .