She hissed, a long, slow promise of retaliation. He wasn’t a male leopard for nothing. He recognized a female cat’s displeasure and he wasn’t about to let her up until he soothed her and made her forget such an indignity.
“I’m sorry, beloved, but you refused even the doctor.”
She turned her head to glare at him. Her eyes had gone cat, taking on the fiery glow of the night. In the moonlight she looked incredibly exotic, her pale skin soft and enticing, the perfect globes of her butt tempting and her red hair tumbling around her furious little face. His entire body tightened, his shaft painful and full.
“There was a reason for that, you dimwit. It’s called a needle phobia.”
“You told him you weren’t allergic when he asked you,” he pointed out. His hand began a circular massage to ease the ache and, if he was lucky, start a new one.
“A phobia isn’t an allergy,” she explained. “Now let me up.”
She was becoming receptive to his attentions again but her voice said she didn’t like it, she wanted to keep her “mad.” He stroked his tongue across the sore spot and slid his fingers deep inside her again.
“You’re so wet, honey.” He withdrew his fingers just as she was pushing back against his hand to draw him deeper. “See?” He held them, gleaming with moisture, in front of her face. “Like nectar.” His hand was back, massaging and rubbing. “I want you, Isabeau, are you going to tell me no?”
She shivered at the dark promise in his voice. The hand on her back eased and he allowed her to slide off his lap. She sat on the floor gingerly, afraid of sitting squarely on the offending sting. She looked up at him. The moonlight spilled across his face, giving him a softer edge in spite of the scars. She lifted her hand and cupped the side of his face, her thumb sliding along the groove of the deepest scar.
“Rio told me you got an infection.”
His hand covered hers, and then he turned his head and pressed kisses into the center of her palm. “I’ve gotten them before and will again.” His golden gaze burned into hers. “I took my shot of antibiotics without whining.”
“You’re just so big and brave,” she answered, her smile faint and mysterious. Her gaze dropped to his groin, to the heavy erection, thick and standing up against his flat belly. Trailing her fingers with a light delicate touch over his shaft, she found her way to the sac hanging below, watching him shiver as she did so. “Yet one touch and you’re trembling.”
Isabeau stroked the pads of her fingers over his soft velvet balls, before she cupped them, rolling and squeezing gently, all the while keeping her eyes focused on the center of his body, as if his every reaction was the most important thing in the world to her. His breath exploded out of his lungs when she leaned into him and licked gently, over and over, lapping at his balls and the base of his shaft while pleasure flooded his body and he hardened impossibly.
She sucked on him, again her mouth infinitely gentle. Everything she did was designed to please him. Her hands were back, caressing and stroking as she removed her mouth and went back to watching his reaction.
Conner absorbed the feel of her touch on his skin. She could transport him instantly to another realm just with her fingers. He observed her through half-closed eyes, watching the rapt attention on her face as she closed her fingers around his thick shaft, forcing a gasp of pleasure from him. She pumped experimentally. Once. Twice. Her gaze never left his cock. She studied the way it pulsed in her hand, reacted to the warmth of her breath on the mushroom head. When small pearly drops appeared she licked them off as if she was clutching an ice-cream cone.
Every touch, every stroke was feather-light, barely there, designed to torment him. There was a look on her face that shattered him—truly shattered him. She understood him. She saw him, the man and the leopard. She understood his drive to dominate and she accepted him for who he was. She enjoyed giving him pleasure. And she trusted him completely. Trust was in her eyes every time she gave herself to him without reservation.
She leaned forward and curled her tongue around the underside of the broad head, teasing his most sensitive spot, and looking pleased when his cock responded with a quick, pleasurable jerk, throbbing and pulsing in her hand.
He groaned, swore softly and buried his fists in her glorious hair, pulling her head forward, bringing her a little off balance, until his cock was poised at her mouth. He smeared her lips with those small pearly drops, and his heart nearly stopped when her tongue slid out to capture his essence, drawing him in.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded softly. Needing her. Wanting her. Loving her. God, but she was brutal, a woman to hold forever.
She looked up at him then—her gaze meeting his, and his heart went into overdrive, pounding with the force of a sledgehammer. He watched her eyes change, go slumberous, drowsy, so sexy he groaned again and pulled her head right down onto him. Her mouth opened under the pressure and she sucked his cock into a tight, hot cauldron.
Her tongue began flicking and dancing around his burning head, stroking the underside until he swore he was going blind. The room actually blurred and little explosions went off in his brain. Electrical currents sizzled in his bloodstream, causing his body to shudder and another deep groan to escape. She lapped at him, sucked and flicked, never staying to one thing but changing constantly so he was always off balance and the sensations just piled, one on top of the other. She showed no sign of getting tired, but drove him to the very edge of his control over and over and then pulled back until he thought he might explode.
Breathing heavily, using the silken reins he held, he pulled her head up. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Still holding him deep in her mouth, tongue working up and down his shaft, she shook her head, her eyes telling him he was ruining her fun. He pulled her off of him, holding her still, hands still buried tight in her hair, until she complied. She shivered as he knelt behind her and placed his hand between her shoulder blades, pressing her head to the floor.
The action raised her buttocks, those perfect globes and he curved his palms over her ass possessively. He massaged and kneaded and then slipped his fingers between her legs where moisture glistened. “I love how wet you get for me, honey.” He rubbed the head of his cock back and forth through the soft folds, feeling her steaming heat, prolonging the moment, wanting her to push back against him. “What do you think? Should I tease you the way you were teasing me?” He bent over her, letting her feel his weight while he pressed his cock into her burning entrance.
She shuddered and made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. He felt the vibration run down her body and straight through her feminine channel. His hips surged forward and he felt her body give way for his invasion. Tight. Scalding hot. Always that little bit of reluctance as though she might not allow him entrance and then . . . paradise.
He just breathed her in, let her take him over, surrendering to her completely. It always amused him that she thought she was the one who surrendered. He was the strong one, the dominant male leopard, aggressive, taking her whichever way he wanted. Yet it was this moment, this first joining when love for her overwhelmed him. It shook him so badly that he always needed this one moment after he buried himself in her, to just give himself up to her—to the enormity of what he felt for her.
He began to move, a little shaken at the strength of his love for her. When he was like this, feeling as though he was touching the edge of a miracle, he preferred to be behind her where she couldn’t see his face. Each stroke sent flames rushing over his body, licking at his skin, burning through his cock and spreading like a wildfire out of control until the sensations were so strong he couldn’t think.
She moved her hips back to the strength of his rhythm, a hard, fast pace that was nearly brutal. She winced once and he immediately forced himself to stop, holding still in that exquisite cauldron of fire. “What is it, beloved?” he managed when his entire being wanted—needed—to continue.
She shook her head and wiggled. “Please,” she managed, “keep going.”>
“What hurt?” His voice was rougher than he intended, his throat nearly closing with the burning fire rolling through his body. Every instinct demanded he plunge deeper and harder.