This was his mate.
She was the man’s woman. The man’s heart.
But she was the animal’s mate, and here, at this time, the animal ruled. The creature that existed within his genetics, within the soul of the man, had been held back long enough.
As her lashes drifted open, her pretty green eyes dark and filled with hunger, gleaming with feminine defiance, Rule lost the battle.
...
Gypsy could feel him. He was close. His testicles were drawn tight, his c**k throbbing, the crest flared and pounding fiercely as the taste of salt and male arousal teased her senses.
She’d wondered what it would be like with him, loving him with her lips, with her tongue, feeling him thrusting past her lips until he found his pleasure with her.
She was certain it would happen within seconds.
“Gypsy, now is the time to pull back.” The sound of his voice was so ragged then, so harsh and animalistic that she knew what she would see when she opened her eyes.
She told herself to keep her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see what would meet her eyes.
But she had never listened to that inner voice as she should, so why should she start now?
Her lashes drifted open.
Brilliant, neon blue filled his gaze, his entire eye. In the center, the black iris had morphed, slitted just a bit to assure her that it wasn’t the man staring back at her. The animal his genetics were drawn from watched her, and he was tired of waiting on the man to—
“No.” The protest was instinctive as he pulled back, removing the treat she’d believed was within seconds of releasing into her mouth.
He snarled at her. A low, feral sound that had her eyes widening, a gasp tearing from her as she suddenly found herself staring at the shower wall. Behind her, one hard hand gripped her hip to hold her in place as the other planted itself between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward firmly.
“Damn you—” She froze the second she’d moved to struggle against him.
Suddenly he was covering her, sharp canines, dangerously strong, gripping the muscle at the bend of her neck as he growled a low, harsh warning.
She should have been terrified.
She should have been fighting.
Instead, she lost her breath, gasping with a surge of such incredible pleasure that her lashes fluttered in a gesture of instinctive submission to him.
She would hate herself later, she decided. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe next week.
She wasn’t going to do anything to dull or take away from the incredibly erotic sensations rushing through her body. Pleasure stormed her senses. It exploded at the sensitive flesh of her neck, spilled through the rest of her body, and when the hard crest of his c**k pressed against the swollen folds of her pu**y, her juices had her so slick, so ready for him that when he pressed against the entrance, the tip of his c**k wedged inside easily.
Then came the real pleasure.
Gypsy’s back arched, a cry tearing from her lips as the first heavy thrust buried only a few inches of his shaft inside her. Steamy water flowed around them, blocked only marginally by his broad back. It heated the cubicle further, steaming the glass door, filling the area with a moist heat that only further sensitized her flesh.
Pulling back, he gave her only a second to draw another breath before he was plunging inside her again, then again. Four heavy thrusts before he lodged fully inside her, stretching her, sending sharp spasms of incredible pleasure piercing each nerve ending inside her pu**y.
Her fingers curled against the shower floor, the tile smooth, warm beneath her. Above her, Rule was harder, hotter. Buried inside her, his c**k throbbing, pounding against her overstretched vagina and clouding her senses with a drugging pleasure.
She was crying his name, begging, and she had no idea what she was begging for until he began moving.
His fingers tightened at her hip as he planted his other hand on the shower floor in front of her. Gypsy braced her shoulder against the clenched muscles of his arm, turning her head and biting into the tough flesh as he began thrusting fiercely inside her.
Each penetration was a shock of agonizing pleasure. The rasp of the flared crest against her inner tissue stoked the need to climax to a painful level. She was crying out his name, her pu**y clenching on each quick thrust, desperate to hold him inside her. The iron-hard width stretched her until each thrust exerted just enough pressure to her swollen clit to drive her insane there.