Cross Breed (Breeds 23)
“I was so damned hard watching you in that Cabinet meeting I couldn’t decide if I should rip Rhyzan’s throat out or drag you out of there and fuck you.” His lips quirked ruefully as he pushed the blouse over her shoulders, forcing her to move her arms to allow the material to follow the skirt.
“Look how pretty,” he crooned, his gaze moving from the white lace of her bra to the matching high-cut panties.
His hands framed her breasts, his touch sending a wave of weakening pleasure and need to rush over her, almost obliterating the fear that had been building inside her.
His thumbs rubbed over her nipples, rasping the lace against the tight points and drawing an involuntary groan from her as she fought to breathe.
“You make me weak,” she whispered, trembling at the pleasure rushing through her and pushing the need higher.
“You make me strong.”
Before the surprise, the shock of his statement, could race through her, his hand cupped the back of her neck as he gripped her hip and pulled her to him.
His lips covered hers, parting them in a kiss she realized she’d been dying for. As her senses were whirling from the sudden rush of the mating hormone burning through her, he lifted her from her feet, bearing her to her back and coming over her.
Deep, drugging kisses, nips of her lips, his tongue stroking hers, hers stroking his. Fear, disquiet, dissipated beneath the extraordinary pleasure and the sense of his complete attention centered on her.
They’d battled, argued. When they’d come together, conflict and uncertainty had filled it before. There was no conflict, no uncertainty. There was his complete attention centered on nothing but her, and hers followed suit.
He released the cups of her bra, drawing it from her, but when her hands returned to stroke his shoulders, his back, her nails flexing against the tough skin, a groan rumbled in his chest. He cupped her breast, his lips moving along her neck, burning kisses, the scrape of his teeth.
Their legs twined together, reminding her that he still wore pants. She wanted him naked against her, wanted his flesh stroking hers, the feel of his erection against her.
She pushed at the band of his pants, crying out when his lips covered the tight peak of her nipple. Arching, swamped with the sharp arcs of exquisite sensation, she was only barely aware of him releasing the pants and working them over his hips, down his thighs until he kicked them free.
His lips drew on first one sensitive nipple, then the other, drawing it in his mouth, sucking it firmly, his tongue rubbing at it, the hormone spilling from him sensitizing it further.
“I love your taste.” The guttural pleasure in his voice had her breath catching.
His kisses moved lower. Soft licks as his lips smoothed beneath the mounds of her breasts, then moving along her stomach as he slid her panties down her thighs, revealing the slick, swollen folds of her sex.
Pushing her thighs apart, he moved between them, those diabolical kisses moving to her mound.
“So fucking pretty,” he groaned, his fingers caressing her inner thighs, his breath caressing the swollen bud of her clit. “All I can think about is touching you, tasting you. From the minute I saw you on that damned balcony six years ago, Cassie. I dreamed of this.”
Her breath caught, a cry escaping as he delivered a heated kiss to her clit. Each brief, firm caress caused the bundle of nerves to swell further, to throb with overwhelming pleasure. Flares of brilliant, white-hot sensation rushed through her, clenching her muscles in desperate need.
Those kisses turned from her clit to her thigh, teeth raking, rasping her flesh. She jerked at the additional sensation, moaning, her hands locked in his hair as her hips arched.
“Don’t tease me,” she gasped, her head tossing against the mattress as those kisses moved to her other thigh.
“Not teasing, halfling,” he promised, his voice rougher, deeper with lust. “Enjoying you. Pleasuring you.”
He was killing her with pleasure.
His kisses moved to her hip, where he nipped, licked, leaving a burning brand against her flesh that had her crying in pleasure. Heat built and expanded, drawing a fine film of perspiration over her flesh. He moved her hands from his hair, pressed them to the bed, growling with erotic command when she tried to lift them to him again.
She couldn’t bear this slow, blissful pleasure. As his lips and tongue caressed her, his hands stroked her thighs, pushing them farther apart as she tried to close them to trap his touch between
them.
He chuckled when his lips brushed over her clit and she arched, trying to capture a firmer touch.
“Dog, please.” She wasn’t above begging. “I can’t stand it.”
She was dying for more. The heated slide of moisture spilling from her was a tormenting caress. The involuntary clenching of her vagina only made the need deepen.
Dog was determined to love her, to touch her, to draw every nuance of her inside him.