“Cabal.” She whispered his name as he realized his hand was cupping her ass, his fingers only scant inches from the dew-soaked folds of her pu**y. And he was lifting her to him.
“I need.” His eyes closed as he tried to block out the need he heard in his words and saw in her eyes. The need for more than just this.
This being him, lifting her, bracing her against the wall as he shifted them to the side, spreading her thighs, tucking the head of his c**k into the slick, hot folds of her sex.
“I wanted to give you more.” The words tore from him as he pressed inside her. Slowly.
Ah hell. It was so f**king good. A heated silken glove enclosed his tortured flesh, stroking it with pleasure, rippling over it with hungry demand.
He braced his feet apart, his hands tightened on the globes of her ass as he pressed deeper and growled with the sensations of not just his own pleasure, but hers as well. He could feel the silken muscles tightening, gripping around him as her sharp little nails bit into his shoulders.
He felt her legs wrap around his hips, gripping him as he surged those final inches inside the heated, ecstatic grip of her hot little pu**y.
“You make me crazy.” He nipped at her jaw as he forced himself to still inside her, to luxuriate in the pleasure.
“It’s just the hormone.” There was a sob in her voice that he hated to hear. Part pleasure, part pain. “It’s just the hormone.”
No, it wasn’t just the hormone, he knew that. It was so much more; he sensed it, felt it. She was his match, his mate; nature had only ensured that the stubborn human part of his genetics didn’t f**k up and walk away from her.
And he would have. He would have continued to run for as long as possible. He would have denied the animal’s insistence, because she f**ked with his head, not just his arousal. And even worse, she f**ked with his cold, icy heart.
“Fuck that damned hormone,” he snarled, wishing he could recall the words.
Clenching his teeth, he forced back words he refused to release. To say them was to mean them. To mean them was to accept that he needed more.
He couldn’t allow himself to need. To need invited weakness. It invited danger.
He would not allow himself to endanger her.
He wanted to f**k her, that was all. The hormone be damned, that didn’t make him f**k. It just made him want to f**k more, harder.
Holding tight to her, he moved his hips, rotated them, thrust and plunged inside the velvet grip of rapture. So much pleasure. It washed through him like a tidal wave, tearing past his consciousness, sinking into the animal that lurked inside him.
It roared in triumph. The sound slipped past his throat, mingled with her cry as he felt her tighten in orgasm. He felt her juices, sweet and hot, flow around the erection thrusting harder, faster inside her.
God save him, he was dying inside her.
He couldn’t hold back the pleasure or the need. He couldn’t hold back the victorious snarl, or the ecstatic groan as she bit his shoulder. It wasn’t a timid bite. Her sharp little teeth latched onto him and refused to let go.
He could feel the brutal ecstasy rushing over him now. His c**k thickened, tightened. His balls drew up tight to the base of the steely shaft, and when he came, it was death. And it was rebirth.
The thumb-sized extension became erect beneath the head of his cock, thickened and distended, revealing the Feline Breed male barb and locking his c**k inside her. His hips rotated, shifting until it was lodged comfortably, pleasurably. Then a throttled roar left his chest as his se**n began to pump hard and deep inside her.
Each fierce spurt sent a surge of blistering electric sensation tearing up his spine, wrapping around his body. His muscles drew tight, his head lowered; his teeth locked into the mating mark at her shoulder as his tongue licked and stroked, spreading the hormone into the tiny bite. Marking her more, marking her deeper.
Sweet Cassa. His mate. His woman. She was the one thing in this world that he knew was his alone. The woman created for him. The one woman that could destroy him.
CHAPTER 9
Cassa was silent as Cabal carried her to the bed, tucked her in, then went to shower. She stared up at the ceiling for long moments, a frown on her face as she fought to work through her own feelings, her own emotions.
The sex was good. It was damned good. It was like flying, free-falling. But when it was over, it left a hollow little ache inside her chest that she couldn’t escape from.
Sighing heavily, she moved from the bed. What the hell did he expect her to do? Spend all her time in bed? She had work to do, and it was obvious she had her job cut out for her.
If the killer had contacted her, there was always the chance that he had, or could, contact another reporter. She needed to get her facts together and find the answers she was looking for if she was going to have her story ready.
After pulling on her robe, she moved to the laptop and the flash chip of information she’d hidden in her laptop bag. She inserted the small chip and pulled up the information, went over it once again.