His Darkest Hunger (Jaguar Warriors 1)

He flicked his tongue teasingly, finding the engorged bud that glistened with the cream of her sex. Her body jerked and he growled deeply against her warmth, and without hesitation his hot mouth opened wide and he took all of her deep into him, his tongue working her into a frenzy that erupted within seconds, filling his mouth with the sweet taste of her orgasm.

His large hands cupped her butt tightly and he held her there, enjoying the taste and smell. Only when the last shudder quietly slipped from her did he let go, to continue his journey down her body, on which he feasted at her thighs, knees, and toes.

His own arousal pulsed with life, the heavy ache between his legs becoming almost unbearable. Then, with restrained grace, he flipped her body over, and abruptly stilled at the sight that greeted him.

He felt Libby’s immediate withdrawal, her hands going to her face, which she buried deep into the pillows and covers.

He let his eyes wander over the damaged and torn flesh of her back, then reached down to touch the puckered, ruined skin. With a groan, his mouth rained kisses along each blemish.

“Please don’t look.”

Libby’s muffled cry tore at him, and Jaxon slowly brought his lips to the sensitive area underneath her ear, feeling her shudder against his words. “You taste of heaven, feel like sin, but you always have and always will look like an angel to me. There is not one inch of flesh on your body that I don’t want to taste.”

His hands and mouth proceeded to demonstrate the passion in his words, and when her cries turned from anguish to wails of pleasure again, he hoisted her hips into the air and plunged his shaft hard and deep into her waiting wetness.

Jaxon literally saw stars as her hot velvet channel welcomed his hardness, gripping him tightly as he began to move to a rhythm older than time. Their bodies strained against each other, the wet, sweaty flesh of his slapping against the rounded softness of her buttocks, creating a symphony of sound.

She was incredibly tight, and his body—though large—went deep, and she took every long hard inch of him. He could feel her quivering, pulsing against him, and he clenched his teeth in an effort to prolong the exquisite sensations that were so incredible they were almost painful. He could feel the pressure building; his balls clenched and he increased his tempo, pounding into her ferociously, as the beast began to howl in triumph.

Her slick channel contracted hard, and Jaxon roared as his release washed over and through him, to bury itself deep inside her sweetness. And then he held her to him hard, biting her shoulder as he continued to empty himself.

After a few moments their hearts calmed, the beats slowing down in time with their breathing. Jaxon slipped from her body and pulled her close to him as he collapsed back onto the bed. His mind was jumbled and he felt a sliver of madness run through him as the reality of his losing control overcame him.

What the hell had he just done?

What power had he once more given Libby Jamieson over him?

Libby felt it.

Something had changed. Shifted. Something else irrevocably lost.

She felt the cool morning air as it wafted in from the window at her back, caressing her heated skin and leaving a hoard of goose bumps in its wake. Her arms slowly crept back from his body as the black of his eyes began to pulsate with color; amber, gold, and red ran through the darkness like bolts of lightning. The effect was startling, unsettling.

His face became a blank mask, the one that faced the world most of the time. It was impenetrable and harsh.

She shivered as his hands fell away from her body, and felt even more bereft as his body heat left hers. It was as if he had only just woken up and realized that the woman he’d held so passionately was not the one he’d imagined. That she was damaged.

Sorrow laced through Libby then. Sorrow for what she’d just shared, because it was already lost to her. It was sharp, and struck her deeply. She could feel the heat of unshed tears gathering behind her lids, and she fought to keep them at bay.

She would not cry in front of Jaxon Castille again.

No matter what.

Scorching shame spilled over her, and she covered her exposed nakedness with trembling hands, wishing she could just close her eyes and make everything go away.

His hands pushed her away, and she kept her eyes downcast as he leapt from her bed. The imprint of his body still lay next to her, his scent was everywhere, but already his heat was replaced with a cool whisper. Inside, she cried out for the warmth lost, for the heated feel of his body next to hers. She heard him move toward the door, felt the tension emanating from him like long fingers.

“Jaxon, don’t leave.” She cringed at the pathetic sound of her voice and felt the sting of heat as her cheeks reddened in shame.

He paused at the door but did not turn toward her as he spoke. “Libby, you and I…we can’t do this. There’s too much shit going on, and I don’t think we can just go back to the way it was.” He took another step, and she was left with only the sound of his voice, “I can’t do this with you. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

His words startled her, but on some level they only confirmed what her body already knew. She and Jaxon had been involved at one point in her life. And whatever she had done—that thing her addled brain couldn’t remember—it destroyed whatever it was they had shared.

As Libby stared at the empty doorway, her heart plummeted.

She didn’t know what it was exactly, only that she wanted it back.

She drew the covers up around her shaking form and closed her eyes, trying to block out the sunlight that seemed determined to find her.