"Ria, sweet Ria," he groaned desperately, his hands sliding from her br**sts to her hips as she worked more of him inside her. "Ah, baby. Take all of me."
"Not yet," she panted, shaking her head, feeling his hands grip her hips though he did nothing to force her farther onto the erection impaling her.
"When?" His voice was tortured, half laugh, half growl.
She tightened around him and moaned as an animalistic snarl filled the air.
"You're torturing me," he accused her, but she heard something akin to joy in his voice as she moved against him, tightening, working him inside her, milking him and easing farther down on him.
Moments later, he was buried fully inside her, every throbbing inch burning her as she felt her control disintegrate.
Need was a lash of furious pleasure building to ecstasy. It was Mercury's hands tight on her hips, his head thrown back in pleasure as he lifted his hips and gave himself to her. Remaining still otherwise, letting her find her pleasure as well as his.
It was riding him while he was stallion-hard, thick, throbbing with his own need to release, yet holding back for her. It was watching the rivulet of sweat trail from his forehead to the thick strands of his hair. Another down his powerful, corded neck as her orgasm began to tighten inside her.
Her body was a pulsing mass of need. Lightning flickered over her nerve endings, every nerve ending. Pleasure was cell-deep, soul-deep, and taking him was fueling something wild and powerful inside her as well.
"Mercury." Her head tilted back as she cried out his name. "Oh God. Mercury!"
She tried to keep moving as she came, tried to plunge him into his own release, but it was tearing her apart. She was shaking, shuddering, feeling it exploding inside her, and he gave it to her then. Took her. His hands tightened on her hips as his moved beneath her, thrusting hard and deep, impaling her with the thick intrusion of his flesh, until his hoarse shout, then a primal, smothered roar, tore from his throat and his release joined hers.
That didn't mean it was over. She collapsed to his chest, barely aware of her nails digging into his forearms as she felt the barb extend, felt it throw her higher, deeper, into a release that stripped her bare and left her begging him. Begging him for mercy, because the pleasure was tearing her apart and remaking her, and she didn't know how to live with being remade.
It was a long time later before she could lift her head, before she could drag her sated body from his and roll to the side of the mattress.
Sitting up, she pushed her hair from her face, her gaze on the floor, and she froze.
Those weren't her sturdy winter boots, in shreds? That wasn't her gray wool skirt? Her panty hose? Her shoes?
Oh God.
She turned and stared at the closet. The door was open, the light was on, and she felt herself pale. She felt Mercury tense as he lay still beside her, his gaze on her, watching her carefully.
She couldn't look at him. All she could see was her clothes. Shredded. As though someone had taken shears to them. Her sturdy shoes and boots, plain socks and panty hose. The only thing she didn't see was the delicate silk-and-lace underwear sets she had brought with her. There were no push-up bras torn to shreds. No stockings. Like the ones she still wore and hadn't even realized.
Shock slowly bled to fury. She stared at the mess, the deliberate calculation in each carelessly dropped shred of fabric, and she turned back to him slowly.
He was watching her with those icy blue eyes that still seemed wicked, burning with greedy flames. His expression was controlled. His look arrogant. Confident.
"What the bloody f**king hell have you done here?"
He grinned. "Have I mentioned how much I love it when that very proper, very precise accent of yours shows up? It means there's a party on the way. Be careful, Ria, it's not just coffee that makes you hotter. But also anger."
She stared at him, incredulous. The arrogance, primal self-confidence and complete calm in his expression enraged her.
"You destroyed my clothes," she clipped out.
His eyes narrowed. "Yes, I believe I might have done just that."
"Why?" She could barely form the word, could barely form a thought.
He lifted up then and leaned toward her, nose to nose.
"I'm sick of f**king a stranger. Of sensing the woman I mated and never seeing her. Those," he snarled, pointing to the clothes, "hide my mate and I will no longer allow it."
She edged back and moved to her feet, staring at him, shaking, and it wasn't from arousal. It was from complete, overriding disbelief and anger.
"You are insane," she sneered back. "Your mate, my arse. Your mate is back at Sanctuary slinking around like a damned cat in heat. Waiting on you. Waiting on you while you fed me that f**king hormone and made certain I couldn't leave you. What's wrong, Mercury? Couldn't you handle the fact that you didn't have it the way you wanted it? Now you have to turn me into something you can bear to touch?"