"There's a good girl." He groaned as her thighs fell open farther. "Let me show you how good it can be, baby."
Good? It surpassed good. It was torture.
His tongue was a flaming lash of pleasure, working its way slowly through the narrow slit as his fingers parted the plump lips.
"So sweet and bare." He groaned. "I love your na**d pu**y, Harmony. I love feeling all your silky flesh, wet and hot and straining toward me."
She strained harder. His tongue licked through each fold, tickled around her clit, slid down, rimmed the spasming opening to her vagina and then began again. Gasping, fighting to breathe, Harmony felt her hands gripping his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as she fought to hold him in one place, to find the release hovering just out of reach.
His tongue was wicked, imperious. It sought, demanded, and drew from her a pleasure that exceeded any she had heard of, let alone known. It sent lightning crashing through her system. Tidal waves of sensation clashed through her mind, causing her to jerk, to shudder, her cries to echo around her as control was lost.
When his lips moved back to her clit, a hard male finger tested the entrance to her pu**y, worked in, caressed and stroked, sending spasms racing through the very heart of her womb.
"Lance…" Her scream was strangled. "For God's sake. Please…" Another finger joined the first. His lips covered the swollen bud of her clitoris, drawing it into his mouth, his tongue flickering over it like flames of lust as she felt herself fly higher. Higher.
Sensation ripped through her. Tore through her nervous system, shredded her soul. Her orgasm slammed her, tightened her body, and sent her racing toward a heat and brilliance so extreme, so intense she lost herself within it.
Lance's hard growl filled her head as he moved to cover her then, his thighs spreading hers farther, the blunt, thick head of his c**k separating the folds of her pu**y.
"Look at me."
Look at him? She struggled to open her eyes, to make sense of the violent tremors surging through her. What she saw did nothing to restore her control or her equilibrium. His eyes were so blue, a deep, impossibly brilliant blue, his features taut, savagely so, his lips swollen as he stared down at her and slapped a condom into her hand.
"Now." He jerked upright, the thick, pulsing stalk of his c**k angling away from his body, spearing toward her, throbbing with the same furious, desperate hunger surging through her cunt.
Her eyes moved slowly, reluctantly to her palm and the condom he had placed there.
"Put. It. On."
She blinked at the guttural sound of his voice.
"You don't need—"
"Now!" His hands gripped her thighs, his eyes blazing down at her. She swallowed tightly, her fingers shaking, trembling as she moved to do as he ordered as quickly as possible. She needed him; her pu**y burned, hurt. Her tongue throbbed. Every cell in her flamed in demand.
Her fingers were shaking so bad she could barely fit the disk over the bulging, damp head.
"I can't." It slipped, moved, slid. She couldn't make her fingers work.
"Put the damned thing on, Harmony." His body jerked, shuddered.
"Fuck it." She threw the condom, lifted her h*ps until the swollen head pressed against the entrance to her cunt. "Fuck me. I told you, you don't need the son of a bit—" The invasion—it could be called nothing else, an impalement, a penetration that tore through her, stretched her and destroyed her.
Harmony heard herself screaming his name. Her legs wrapped around his plunging hips, her lips opened for his, her tongue battling his the moment they touched. She was filled to her limit, the tearing pleasure whipping through her, overloading her senses until nothing mattered, no one mattered, the world dissolved until nothing existed but Lance. His touch. His kiss, feeling the jackhammer strokes of his c**k powering inside her pu**y as her tongue filled his mouth, the taste of wild honey, of spice, an aphrodisiac that heightened each sensation and sent her careening into ecstasy.
Her body jerked violently as the next orgasm ripped through her. She bucked, shuddered, fighting to scream, but only a whimper emerged as he tore his lips from hers. A strangled male cry filled the air then, followed quickly by the strangest, most terrifying sensation she had ever known.
She cried out at the feel of his se**n rushing through her, seeping into the very pores of the spasming flesh, easing the flaming lust, soaking into her womb. She felt it. Felt each heated pulse of se**n fill her, change her, complete her just before her teeth sank into his shoulder and she tasted his blood. And in that moment sensed her own defeat.
CHAPTER 3
Lance was enraged. The next morning he paced his office, scowling, his body burning as his c**k throbbed in his jeans and the bite at his shoulder burned in need. Son of a bitch. A f**king Breed. He became aware of what she was the moment those sharp little teeth of hers pierced his flesh. He had seen the mark on his cousin Megan's shoulder nearly a year before. Placed there by her mate, Braden Arness.
"I can't find anyone that meets your description in the database, Lance." Braden growled in irritation.
"Now look, dammit, I know she's a Breed," Lance snapped. "She has to be in there."
"Lance, I've been searching these damned files for an hour now. She's not in here. What the hell is this about?"