He felt it hit her. She tightened, clamping down on his fingers with a
strength that had his cock jerking in hunger to feel it as well. But first, he had a need to taste her. To feel and to consume the pleasure that would pour from her.
He moved his fingers faster, deeper, driving into her as her clit swelled, pulsed. Her scream of release echoed around him. A final sucking pressure at her clit to ensure he had given her maximum satisfaction before he pulled back quickly, removing his fingers and driving his tongue inside her weeping pussy.
She screamed again as he licked. Her hips jerked violently as the next orgasm tore through her. He licked and probed, filling his senses with her taste, her pleasure, before jerking to his feet, aligning his cock to the sweet warmth, and driving home.
Her head had fallen back against the mirror, her expression filled with ecstasy as her parted lips gasped for breath, for strength as a keening cry left them. Sharp little nails dug into his scalp as he leaned close, his lips covering the small mark on her shoulder, his tongue licking, stroking as he fucked her relentlessly. Driving into her as he rushed headlong into his own release and triggering hers as his teeth sank into her flesh.
It was heaven. It was rapture. It was the most incredible pleasure he could have ever known. He felt the barb extend, locking into the muscles of her pussy as his cock spewed its release and the small extension vibrated with the cataclysm.
In that second he was reborn in her. He felt his soul touch hers as his gaze met the deep, dazed blue eyes staring back at him. He felt a rush of elation, of possession a second before his head fell back and a roar tore from his chest.
His mate
God only knew how much time had passed before Braden was able to loosen his grip on her. His head was buried in her long fall of hair as he crushed her to him, holding her, soothing her.
He cleaned her gently, drying the soft, swollen flesh he had invaded.
Such pleasure should have never been possible. It wrapped around the soul and filled it with a light that heated from the inside out. Warming where once it had been cold. Soothing it where there had been only pain. Just as Megan did. She was the miracle.
"I wanted to be strong," she told him moments later as he stepped back, steadying her as she stood before him. "I wanted to accept what I was remembering and then go on. " Her voice was husky with spent passion, with a renewed sadness. "I can't accept it, Braden. "
The heaviness in her voice tore at him. God, he had never believed that
another's pain could affect him so deeply.
"Accept what, Megan?" He kept his voice soft, gentle. It wasn't the time to push her. He couldn't push her. Whatever
tormented her memories, she would have to release on her own.
"Aimee. " Her answered surprised him.
She moved away from him, reaching for the clothes she had laid out earlier. "I remember feeling the grief in that dream. God, it was so strong. I thought my soul would rip from my body, it hurt so bad. And I didn't know why. "
He knew. He had felt that grief himself as it poured from the young women in the Labs. The horror, the bleak knowledge that no part of their bodies or their souls was sacred.
"She was raped. " Her voice was a mere breath of sound. "It couldn't have been long before I saw them at the Academy. And she looked so calm. Her eyes were as dead as the others, but it poured from her. " Anger thickened her voice.
"And the rage. " Her voice was thick with the memory of it. "The rage was male. Mark knew, and there was nothing he could do about it. "
Braden grimaced. God above have mercy. He couldn't imagine living with the knowledge that some bastard had forced Megan in such a way. He had been unaware that Mark and Aimee had mated, but he remembered clearly the days when their futures had been uncertain. Had Mark and Aimee been that unfortunate, then Mark would have had no choice but to endure. The life of his mate would have transcended pride, and the rage would have eaten him alive.
Braden stalked from the bathroom to where he had dropped his clothing in the next room. He dressed quickly, but it was several long moments before he could glance up from where he was tying his boots, watching as she stepped into the room.
"Who was it?'He had to know who she saw. The need to kill filled him with the fury of hatred. He wanted the bastard's blood.
He felt her hesitation and wondered if she sensed the fury he was fighting to hold back. He didn't want her to feel it, didn't want her to know the black hatred welling inside him.
"I thought he was a friend. " She kept her voice low, fighting the pain rising inside her. Confusion filled the room, the fight to accept, to get past the denial of the answers she had found within herself.
"Megan. " He stood slowly and moved to her, catching her shoulders as
he stared down at her. "I need to know who it was. I have to know what we're facing. "
"It makes sense now. " A brittle, bitter laugh left her lips as she stared back. "How he managed to pull in the military. How he could find my schedule. All of it. "
An eerie foreboding began to fill him.