She hadn't realized her body was thrashing under his or that her fingernails were digging into his skin. She could see the scored rake marks on his chest and knew they had to be on his back as well. She was just as out of control as her own body.
"O jela peje terad, emni." He bit the curse out between his teeth. "Sun scorch you, woman, stop fighting me." He swore again savagely, in English this time, his hold transferring to her inner thighs.
He held her thighs with a bruising grip, his cock relentless, never stopping, slamming deep and hard with every stroke, burying himself over and over, his face a mask of pure lust, robbing her of all breath. She felt him everywhere. Surrounding her. Taking her over. His body a piston, a jackhammer, driving deep, sending the fire, the flames, through her entire body.
Her tight sheath pulsed and spasmed. Her inner muscles gripped his thick spike viciously, clamping down like a vise, holding him, increasing the friction as he drove into her. Then it was there, exploding through her, tearing through her body, roaring with a life of its own.
She chanted his name. Giving him that. He'd given her the stars. She tried to take him with her, but his green eyes were trained on her face and he plunged into her again and again, watching her as her body fragmented, died and was reborn.
"That is what I want," he breathed. "Beautiful. I gave that to you. Your lifemate. Aleksei. I gave that to you."
His cock continued to drive deep into her body, on the heels of the first violent orgasm and another, taking her over, ripping through her, tearing a low, wild keening from her that she couldn't stop. She swore her vision darkened as the firestorm rushed through her, consuming every cell in her body.
7
Aleksei needed to see the look on her face as he gave her that gift, that beauty. He knew he was far too rough. Too wild. But his lifemate was made for him. The other half of his soul, and even though she didn't know it--didn't recognize it--she was a wildcat and was a true match for his savage nature.
He didn't want to stop. It was pure heaven being buried deep in her body. Streaks of lightning forked through his body, drawing up from his toes to sizzle through his body straight to his brain. Around his cock her body spasmed and convulsed, bathing him in hot, rich honey. The intense strangling sensation added to the friction, as if a hot, wet silken fist gripped and milked him.
A third orgasm ripped through her and he felt his cock swell. Glorious. Impossible. Perfection. Her tight sheath pulsed around him, clamped down and pulsed again. Pulse after pulse. That rich honey scorched and burned and felt so good as with each spasm she poured more around his swollen, hard, aching flesh.
He stared down into her shocked eyes. She looked dazed. Her lips were swollen, her hair everywhere. She looked thoroughly taken. Claimed. His. He emptied himself into her, blasting his seed deep inside her.
Fighting for breath, he allowed himself to collapse over her, forcing her to take his weight while he buried his face in her neck. Her heart beat in that pulse point right by his ear. He could hear the frantic rhythm. Feel her fighting for air. He turned his head and sank his teeth deep.
She cried out, arched her neck, her arms coming up to cradle his head even as a rush of hot liquid enveloped his cock. He held her down, letting her breathe shallowly as he blanketed her, his body connected to hers. Still hard. Still a thick spike that refused to relax while he took her blood. While he sated himself on her.
He began to glide. Slow. Easy. His hands slid to her breasts, kneading. Massaging. Taking possession of her nipples, rough. Gentle. Never setting a pattern. Each tug or roll rewarded him with a surge of liquid heat. Her hands were in his hair, and he loved the feel of her fingers there, moving through the strands. He loved the way she cradled him as he fed.
With a languid laziness, he swept his tongue over the twin pinpricks and then set his mouth there, marking her further. She would have his mark all over her body. Everywhere. And she would feel him everywhere. On her skin. Under her skin. In her blood. In her bones. Deep inside her most feminine core. He would be there with every breath she drew. Every step she took. Every move she made. He would be inside of her.
He lifted his head slowly, continuing to move in her. She still wore a dazed look, as if she couldn't quite believe what happened. He felt alive. Exhilarated. Complete. He should have been sated, but he knew that if that were ever the case, it would be short-lived and very temporary with her close to him. He wanted to live inside her.
"I wasn't fighting you," she whispered, almost shyly. "I'm sorry I made you think that I was."
Her hips moved gently, rising to meet him. She was every bit as insatiable as he was. His match. He took his weight from her, planting a hand on either side of her so he could continue gliding in and out of her hot, welcoming haven.
"It was too much. Too fast. I couldn't process what was happening to my body."
"Did I hurt you?" He bent his head to the temptation of her breast, capturing a nipple and drawing it into the heat of his mouth. His teeth tugged and his tongue laved before he let his prize go.
She gasped, and there was his instant reward, all that hot, slick honey bathing his cock while her body clamped down around his. Yes. She was definitely his lifemate. She liked it rough. She came apart for rough. He wasn't civilized and he doubted he ever would be. He'd been too long living on the brink of darkness, part animal, part savage and part demon. He was never going to be tame.
Gabrielle shook her head. "It was intense and it scared me."
He didn't let her gaze slide away from his. Waiting.
She bit her lip. "Sometimes it bordered on pain, but then . . ." She trailed off, a soft rose creeping into her face.
"You liked it," he encouraged. "Kessake, in this, in all things, you have to be honest with me. We are going to spend eternity together. There is going to be a lot of this." He took a moment to savor the feeling of her body surrounding his while he moved inside of her. "I need to know what pleases you. You need to know what pleases me."
"I don't understand this. Any of this." Tears suddenly swam in her eyes.
"Kessake." He whispered it. His name for her. Little cat. She'd scratched the hell out of him with her nails. Marking him. Scoring his chest and back. Loving what he was doing to her. Now she had tears in her eyes.
Her hands tightened around him and she circled his hips with her legs, hooking her ankles, wrapping herself around him. He knew she was unconsciously seeking assurance from him. He slid one arm around her back, half lifting her. Holding her to him. "Talk to me," he ordered softly.
Her body trembled. He picked up his pace, moving deeper into her. Filling her. He was talking to her with his body. Trying to tell her she was safe. They both were. They had completed the bond and there was no danger that he would lose his soul to darkness.
"Gabrielle."
"What does kessake mean?"
Her breath had turned ragged. Her eyes stayed on his and he liked the look there. He had put that there. Soft. Dazed. The tears still close, but he held them at bay with the easy, loving glide of his body. He gave that to her because she needed care. He'd been rough. He could see the evidence of his hands and mouth on her silky skin. He could see a trickle of blood mixed with his seed on her thighs. She needed gentle.
"It means little cat." He could see the tension coiling in her right there in her eyes. He heard it in her breathing.
"You call me little cat?"
He didn't want to talk anymore. He wanted to concentrate on feeling. Pure feeling. "Hold tight," he ordered abruptly.
Gabrielle obediently tightened her arms and legs around him. He liked that she kept to her word and obeyed when he told her to do something. It was necessary that she learn obedience right away. He wouldn't tolerate his woman looking at other men, and clearly she had something wrong with her that she had allowed herself to become involved with another Carpathian male. He would keep her away from other men until she learned her place was at his side. In any case, no one had argued with him, no
t in a thousand years. He was too much the predator and one look at him was enough to convince even the dullest dolt of the fact.
Still, he wanted a woman who would speak her mind. Just not until he was certain she wasn't going to try to run off with another man. She had a fiery temper. That might actually be fun when he was feeling tolerant. After sex. He was feeling pretty damned tolerant right at that moment.
Shifting his hands to the carpet, he began to move in her the way he wanted. Deeper. Finding that sweet spot that took her breath completely and had her making those little noises in her throat he was certain she didn't notice, but he did. He wanted to hear those sounds for the rest of his life. And he wanted it to be a long life with her.