Wrapping her legs around his hips, Isabelle tilted her hips higher, angling her body to his as she fought to separate pleasure and pain, and failed.
It was like being lost in a maelstrom of exotic, erotic sensation. Thunder and lightning crashed and clashed inside her body. Fingers of rapid-fire sensation, hot and extreme, raced through her, wrapped around her clit, shuddered through her womb.
Every stroke inside the depths of her body sent her flying higher as the taste of winter fire and summer storm intoxicated her further. Made her hungrier. Made the intensity of the sensations something to crave rather than to fear.
But no addictive kiss would have been needed, she knew. Nothing outside the touch, the taste of the man was needed. Because he was what she had watched the night for, and she knew it.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he growled again as he buried his lips against the curve of her neck. His hips were moving faster, the race to release suddenly consuming them both, tightening through them.
Isabelle cried out his name, begged for it, demanded it. Her vagina was clenching convulsively, her womb tightening as her clit burned and throbbed with each rasp of his pelvis against it.
Each stroke fueled the sensual fires already burning out of control. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she felt his teeth raking against the sensitive flesh between neck and shoulder. The skin tingled at the feel of the canines against them, at the sensation of his tongue spreading that heated hunger over it. He f**ked her with male greed and a sensual intent to pleasure her. As he pumped furiously inside her, the width should have been agonizing with each thrust, and it was—an agony of pleasure. The sensations were torturous, the rising ecstasy rioting through her until she felt her body begin to explode from the inside out.
It was like being immersed in a cloud of pure rapture. As though ecstasy itself had enfolded her, covering every inch and every cell, consuming her.
She screamed. She heard herself scream.
His teeth bit into her neck with a sharp burst of painful pleasure. Then, with a final thrust, she felt his release as it began overtaking him as well.
The first hard spurt of se**n as his c**k throbbed and seemed to swell further. Then more. More.
Her eyes opened as strangled cries of another release escaped her throat. That swelling, in the most sensitive part of her pu**y, stretching the convulsively tight muscles and throbbing against nerve endings that otherwise would have never known stimulation.
The stretching seemed never-ending until he was locked inside her, so tight she knew neither of them could escape.
The blast of his se**n jerked his body.
His tongue lashed at the wound at her neck.
And Isabelle knew, deep, deep inside, she knew, life would never even have the chance to be the same again.
Chapter Six
I would have lost hope, I would have lost faith.
Isabelle lay against Malachi’s chest, her hand rubbing over the broad planes, feeling the presence of the pelt-like hairs that grew there.
Breeds seemed to have no body hair, and in a sense, it was true. What they had instead was a superfine hair, almost invisible to the naked eye.
It didn’t even feel like hair, but more like a finer, softer fur than his animal cousins possessed.
It was warm to the touch, heated by his body and his tough, muscular flesh. His chest was powerful, incredibly broad, and beneath her palm she could feel his heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm that comforted her, even when nothing should have been able to comfort her.
His arm was wrapped around her back as he held her to his chest, keeping her warm despite the chill that wanted to overtake her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his lips moving against the top of her head as his fingers stroked her shoulder.
“You didn’t hurt me.” And he hadn’t.
The pleasure had been so incredible that she was still reeling from it, still trying to find her bearings as her mind fought to make sense of it.
Once the thick, heavy swelling in his c**k had receded, allowing him to pull free of her, Malachi had risen from the bed, collected a warm damp cloth from the bathroom and a dry towel and proceeded to clean her gently.
She had blushed furiously. Hell, she was blushing now just thinking about how he had cleaned her thoroughly, even separating the folds of her sex and running the cloth gently through the narrow slit.
“I was created to kill,” he suddenly said. “We all were. We were Breeds. Not animal, not human. When the rescuers liberated us, when Alpha Lyons declared our presence to the world, we learned that though God hadn’t created us, He had still gifted us.”
Isabelle sat up and stared down at him somberly, watching the heavy sadness in his dark blue eyes as he stared up at her.