“You’re going to be fine, baby,” he whispered against her forehead, laying a kiss on the damp flesh as she trembled in his arms.
“We have a Grand Cherokee outside,” Simon reported as he hung the phone up. The two of you can lie in the back. I’ll drive. Keep her down, yourself as well. We’ll arrive at Alpha location early morning.”
Kiowa glanced at the clock. It was barely ten, would he last that long?
“Steph, go outside and watch the area. We have to load her up and get the hell out of here before anyone tracking can find us. Gloria and the others will ride shotgun. Let’s head out.”
The backseat in the Grand Cherokee had been lowered, the vehicle backed close to the door with the back door swung open. Kiowa carried his hot little burden out the door and finally managed to wedge his long frame in beside hers.
Pillows from the motel bed cushioned their heads as the back was closed and Simon and Steph jumped into the front. It wasn’t a pillow Amanda Lee Marion wanted though. She curled against Kiowa’s chest, the blanket covering her falling away enough to allow her to press one swollen hard-tipped breast into his chest.
“How far is the f**king compound from here?” he growled as he glanced at Simon between the seats.
The other man was trying really hard not to laugh. Kiowa made a mental note to kick his ass when the hard-on went down enough to allow for it.
“Almost six hours,” Stephanie answered him quietly. “We’re taking back roads more than interstate just in case. So far, nothing has been reported on her abduction or any sign that anyone knows anything is awry. With any luck, we’ll reach Virginia without problem.”
No problems for her maybe.
Kiowa couldn’t stop himself from holding Amanda closer as she pressed into him, her leg lifting to hug his close, pressing his thigh against her wet pu**y. And she was wet. God, she was so wet he just wanted to go between her thighs and drown in her.
Another soft little moan left her throat as he helplessly pressed harder against her, rasping her straining clit with his thigh as she arched in his arms.
“Turn the f**king radio on, Quatres,” he snarled, holding her head close, furious that the other man would hear those unbidden, soft little moans.
“No kissing, Kiowa,” Simon reminded him sternly as he flipped the radio on and the soft, haunting sounds filled the Jeep. “And no touching.”
Fuck it. He could touch all the hell he wanted. She was sliding against his body like silk and satin and he would be damned if he could keep his hands to himself. But he did want that kiss. His tongue was tight and swollen, small glands at the side of it throbbing almost painfully. This was damned strange. Sex had never been like this, nor had arousal. His mate. Dash Sinclair’s words rolled over him as Amanda’s soft little hands kneaded his chest. She was his mate?
Coyotes weren’t supposed to have loyalty or emotions, let alone mates. Somehow, a few of them had been lucky enough to know loyalty, to create friends and keep them. Some, like Kiowa, had been raised outside the prisons, but the life he had led himself hadn’t exactly inspired the need for loyalties, though he had made a few.
His hand smoothed down her back, his fingers clenching in the full curve of her buttock as her hot little lips found his nipple beneath his shirt.
His teeth clenched as a hard breath escaped his throat. Fuck. Her teeth were working him with exquisite heat, her tongue stroking over the fabric of the shirt as her hands moved sluggishly to press beneath the bottom of the material.
He threw his head back, closed his eyes and fought the need. A need so intense, so all-consuming he doubted he would make it an hour, let alone six.
Chapter Seven
What was wrong with her? Amanda knew something was horribly wrong, that the heat and hunger that kept her body so sensitized and filled with a painful arousal wasn’t natural. It happened with that kiss. She remembered the kiss. The stranger, Kiowa, locking his lips to hers and spreading the taste of sweet honey through her senses. That was when it happened. Within seconds, heat had filled her, making it hard to think, to make sense of anything but the pleasure and the need for his touch.
And touch her he had. She moved against him now, remembering his lips on her br**sts, his teeth at her nipple, sending sizzling bolts of exquisite pleasure pain tearing through her. She had known for years that regular, normal sex would never be enough for her. The staid kisses and boring touches she had received over the years had been less than enjoyable. But, when she touched herself, her fingers pinching at her ni**les, stroking her clit with a harder touch, there she had found pleasure.
The books she hid and read, sizzling romances that involved just a bit of the more painful love play, would keep her hot and wet for days. But never hot enough for this. To accept the kiss, the touch of a man she didn’t even know.
She shuddered as she remembered his hand slapping her cunt, the vibrations of heat and mild pain streaking into her clit and nearly sending her senses spinning. She wanted more of it. Wanted to feel his hand there again, making her burn, making her twist against him as the pleasure ripped her apart. God, this was so wrong. She shouldn’t be like this. Had he drugged her? She didn’t remember it if he had. And she didn’t feel drugged exactly; it’s just that all her senses were centered on one thing and one thing only. His touch.
“Easy, baby,” he groaned at her ear as her teeth teased his nipple. Her hand slipped beneath his shirt as she gasped at the heat of his hard body and felt his straining erection pressing against her through the rough jeans. That’s what she wanted, his c**k pressing into her, stilling the heat throbbing in her pu**y.
Her hands drifted down, plucking at the snap as his breathing escalated. She just wanted to touch him, wanted to wiggle down until she could take it in her mouth, lick it and suck it as she had read about. She wanted it. God now, she had to have it.
Her hands were tearing at his jeans, desperate whimpers coming from her throat as his hands covered hers, dragging them back to his chest.
“Amanda, listen to me,” he crooned at her ear. “Listen to me very carefully, baby. You have to stop. Lie still and sweet against me just for a little bit longer.”
Like hell. He had kidnapped her. He had taken her from her home for only God knew what reason, and chances were good he would kill her before it was over it. But before he did he was going to still the fever raging in her body or she would kill him first.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, her head falling back, staring up at him in dazed wonder. He was so goodlooking. Native American features, black, black eyes, long black hair that spilled over the side of his neck as he watched her with hungry intent. He didn’t look like a man willing to kill. Those weren’t the cold blue eyes that stared at her from behind a mask, and his voice wasn’t filled with hatred.