“One more kiss,” she gasped. “One more.”
She was reaching for him, needing him. Her lips opened beneath his, accepting his tongue and that taste she craved so desperately. She sucked it into her mouth and heard his groan of pleasure. She arched into his arms and begged silently for more.
One more kiss wasn’t enough. She needed him to touch her. So bad. So bad that she gripped his hand and shoved it under her shirt. Then her hands were burrowing beneath his shirt, touching hot, hard flesh as she felt his hand cup the swollen mound of her breast.
Oh that was good. His thumb raked over her nipple and it was even better. He lifted her into his arms, and a second later she was stretching back on the bed as he whipped the shirt over her head.
Her hands buried in his hair as his lips covered her nipple. She tore at his shirt until he lifted his head, ripped it off and moved to her other nipple.
His skin covered hard, corded muscle. It flexed beneath her palms, her nails, as she felt his hands pushing at the cotton pants she wore.
It was desperate. She could feel the enraged lust traveling between them, as though electricity connected them, one feeding from the other until she was burning inside and she knew she wasn’t going to get enough of him. She needed more of him.
A second later she found herself flipped to her stomach. Her fingers curled into the blankets as she opened her eyes and stared in dazed confusion at the bed. Her hips were jerked up. Calloused fingers ran through the sensitive folds between her thighs, and she was wet. So slick and wet and hot. And it felt so delicious she stretched into the caress.
“Tell me you want me,” he growled behind her.
“I want you.” She sobbed the answer into the bed, tears falling from her eyes again as she felt him behind her. “I want you.”
Broad, hot, the crest of his c**k tucked between the wet folds.
Not like this. She pressed her head into the bed. Not like this, where she couldn’t hold on to him, where she couldn’t find a sense of control or focus.
Why like this?
He pressed inside and she went crazy from the pleasure. Her back arched at the stretching heat, a cry falling from her lips, part protest, part hunger.
She felt a pulse of heated fluid filling her, burning her further. She felt her sex flex and ripple and draw him in. With each heated spurt she became more sensitive, hungrier, needier.
She should tell him she was a virgin. She should tell him she hadn’t done this before.
A scream ripped from her throat as he tunneled inside in three hard strokes. Every inch. And he was so thick, invading her, stretching her, tearing through her virginity without the pain she had expected, but with more impact than she could have imagined.
Her thighs parted more, her hips tilted back farther and he was rising over her, his powerful arms braced beside her head as he began thrusting into her. His lips were at her shoulder. Sharp little kisses, heated and fierce just below her neck.
She was filled with him. She could feel every heavy vein in his cock, every pulse of blood through it, and it was killing her. She needed more, wanted more.
And he was giving her more. Surging inside her as she felt her body tighten. The muscles wrapped around his erection tightened, her clit throbbed, pulsed, and then everything inside her exploded in a cataclysm of light and color that had her screaming his name.
She shuddered through her orgasm, jerking beneath him as he continued to thrust hard and fast, gaining speed, pushing into her as she felt more of those pulses of heated fluid.
A second later, she heard him snarl, and felt something shocking. Something she knew couldn’t be natural. This couldn’t be real. His c**k was swelling in one place. Getting larger, separating her farther as she felt his se**n began to spurt inside her.
Animal genetics, she thought distantly. He was locking inside her. Held tight and sure inside the heavy muscles of her vagina, he suddenly snarled with animalistic fervor and she felt his teeth pierce her upper shoulder.
She should be screaming in pain. She was screaming in pleasure. Another, harder orgasm ripped through her, shook her, wrenched her senses from her and left her lost. She was so lost, with nothing, no one to hold on to. Thrown into a pleasure so violent, so brutal, she wondered if she could survive it.
Behind her, Del-Rey was growling. His teeth still gripped her flesh, his c**k still locked inside her. She sobbed out his name. She wanted to beg him to hold her, but the last shreds of her pride held her back.
He had taken her like this, impersonally, and he had to have done it for a reason. She didn’t matter. The same reason he had shot her family, the same reason he had lied to her for so many years. Because Anya Kobrin, and the fragile love that had been building inside her for him, didn’t matter.
Which left her alone, at the mercy of a man that she now knew had no mercy.
He had made a grave tactical error and Del-Rey knew it. The anger that had festered inside him over the years had overlooked the intense, all-abiding loyalty Anya felt for her family and friends. Del-Rey was a man who believed in retribution. He had been such a man all his life, until he sat here now, staring into the darkness of his own soul, and realized he had wounded a treasure he hadn’t known he’d held.
He had known from the moment he met her that he was going to betray her. It was the way of the world. He couldn’t fully trust. He never gave complete control or complete trust to another person, outside of Brim. Just as he had known that retribution would be dealt to the guards’ leaders, as he had always dealt it. He had always killed before. He’d pulled his punches because of Anya. He hadn’t killed, he had only wounded. Her father and her cousins would know they had been dealt with fairly. They were men of war. War had different rules than the fairy tales young women such as Anya lived within.
She was sleeping. Finally. Del-Rey sat in the chair beside her bed, dressed, his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. He had sat down there the minute he could withdraw from her, as soon as the knot that had been swollen in his c**k had receded enough for him to pull away from her. He had jerked his jeans back to his hips and sat. To keep from falling to the floor.