She was his mate. The need to take her, to mark her, to indelibly imprint himself on her was tearing through his senses like wildfire.
Though she had stood beside him and defended the accusations brought against him earlier, still, there had been an instinctive hesitation. The need of the daughter to give in to the father, to obey and accept the protection she had known all her life.
That hesitancy had terrified him. For the briefest second Malachi had felt pure, gut-wrenching fear, certain he would have to fight for her and chance destroying them both in the effort.
That streak of pride and independence had held her to him, for the moment. Now, God help him, the animal inside him was tearing loose now and asserting its determination to tie her irrevocably to him.
“Malachi,” she whispered on a desperate sigh, her nails biting into his bare shoulders as he backed her to the couch before allowing his lips to trail to the sensitive column of her neck.
The ripple of response raced up her spine, sending the scent of summer heat to fill his senses. The smell of her passion, her sweet, soft, feminine lust, was the most intoxicating scent. He could live on it. He could survive the rest of his life with no other scent in his head.
The growl that rumbled in his chest surprised him. It was more animalistic than normal. It came from deeper inside him, from the depths of his diaphragm to vibrate in his throat, and sent a shiver chasing up Isabelle’s back.
That response heralded the heated scent of her pu**y and signaled the rush of her slick juices as her body prepared for him.
His cock, already engorged and throbbing in hunger, pulsed with a demand he’d never known before. He could feel the mating fluid building in the shaft as his balls tightened in a pleasure-pain that had that damned growl rumbling again. It was uncontrollable. It was primal and heralded a rush of hunger that stripped him to the depths of his being and to the animal that resided there.
Isabelle could feel the need rising like a storm inside her and racing through her bloodstream like a drug determined to overtake her. It wasn’t just determined. It was definitely overtaking her. Washing through her body with a wave of heat as Malachi’s lips blazed a path of fire down her neck.
Once he reached the small, sensitive wound he’d made earlier, his tongue brushing across it, Isabelle swore she nearly climaxed. A rush of sensation tore through the mark as a hungry kiss was applied to it before his lips began nipping and kissing their way to her br**sts.
Her ni**les were tight, hard with excitement. As she arched to him, Isabelle felt the brush of the fine hairs of his chest against them, the rasping pleasure dragging a whimpering moan from her chest.
She couldn’t get enough of him. Not enough of his kiss, his touch, or the incredible pleasure that seemed to invade every cell of her body.
“I can’t wait.” The sound of his voice was part animal, part human. An equal mix of who and what he was and from where he had come.
“No one asked you to wait,” she cried out as his hand moved between her thighs, his fingers finding the moisture that lay on her thighs and following it to the swollen folds of her cunt.
Parting the saturated flesh, he found the clenched, sensitive entrance, rimmed it then, and with a dominant, exciting thrust, filled the snug channel with two powerful fingers.
Isabelle went to her tiptoes, her cry muffled against his chest as her flesh clenched involuntarily, becoming tighter and rippling around his fingers.
“Malachi.” She cried out his name as his lips found the tight, hardened peak of a nipple. Arching closer to him, she cried out again as he began to suckle the tip with strong, heated draws of his mouth.
Whatever the incredible taste that flowed from the glands beneath his tongue, the presence of it on his tongue now increased the sensitivity of her nipple. It hardened further, becoming so tight and peaked that the pleasure-pain of it had her nails curling against the flesh of Malachi’s shoulders.
Her hips moved, writhed as she worked her pu**y on his fingers, her clit rasping against the pad of his hand as he curved it against her.
Her juices were flowing over his fingers, saturating them as she whimpered with the rising desperation to climax.
She was close. She could feel it building, burning in the pit of her womb, the release she was reaching for so desperately tightening through her.
“Not like this.” The words rasped from his lips as he straightened, his fingers immediately pulling free of the heated clasp of her pu**y.
“No. Malachi, please . . .”
He nipped her shoulder. As a gasp of pleasure tore from her lips, he pulled back once again before gripping her shoulders, turning her around quickly and pushing her to the couch.
“On your knees,” he growled as he pushed her down.
Catching her weight on her elbows against the high, thick pad of the armrest, she felt him coming behind her, over her.
Covering her like a warm, sensual blanket, a sexual creature intent on possession, Malachi braced his hand next to her elbow as he positioned the width of his c**k at the entrance to her sex.
Immediately the heavy spurt of sexual fluid erupted against her entrance, heating her further. The flesh there became more sensitive, clenching tightly even as it stretched easier beneath the penetrating width of his cock.
Another spurt of slickening fluid invaded her, increasing the sensitivity, the pleasure that whipped through her senses. She could barely breathe. The stretching impalement of his flesh inside hers was like a whirlwind of sensations so intense, so brilliant she could only writhe in response. She pressed back, feeling her vagina milking the heavy width, drawing it deeper inside her as he worked his hips against her with strong, shallow thrusts.