Why? She had none left.
She tightened again, whimpering in pleasure as his strokes increased, his hands gripping her ass as he began to pound inside her. Hard. Heavy.
Burning, exquisite lightning erupted inside her womb, sending her senses spinning as ecstasy washed over with an orgasm so deep, so hard she could only cry brokenly in response. Then she screamed.
“No. Kiowa, no…”
But there was no stopping it. The swelling had already begun, stretching her, prolonging her orgasm, locking him deep inside her as his hips jerked and his throttled shout signaled his own release. His se**n spurted inside her, and she could feel it. Felt the head of his c**k locked at the mouth of her womb as each hard pulse of seed jetted inside her body. Her release built again, exploded, echoed and vibrated inside her as his teeth sank into her flesh again, holding her in place, refusing to allow her to fight the hold he now had on her.
Tears washed from her eyes as he held her close. Pleasure was a steady, vibrating force inside her body, rocking her over and over again even as fear filled her mind. What he was doing to her wasn’t normal. It wasn’t human.
Had she asked for this? she wondered distantly. Had her lustful imaginings, her need for that flare of pain with her pleasure brought her to this?
“Manda.” His teeth lifted from her shoulder.
Why didn’t it hurt? she wondered. When his canines pierced her flesh, why wasn’t there a horrible pain instead of that blinding, mind-consuming pleasure?
“Don’t cry, baby.”
He was still locked inside her, trembling every few seconds as another pulse of seed filled her womb.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Was it? How could it be?
Her tears wet his perspiration-damp flesh further as she shuddered in his arms. She could feel it. The swelling inside her was large enough to keep her pu**y flexing, to keep the echoes of her release washing through her. It was tight enough that no matter how she fought, how she shifted, it didn’t budge. It held his c**k in place, kept him anchored to her as the final hot blasts of se**n filled her. She felt the change then. Slowly, the swelling eased, too slowly. Amanda whimpered as she fought to calculate her cycles and ovulation and realized the time for this was much too close. She couldn’t allow this to continue. She couldn’t become a slave to whatever effect he had on her.
She fought for composure as he finally pulled free of her, fighting and failing to hold back her moan at the pleasure of that last stroke.
He didn’t release her though. He shifted her in his arms then carried her into the little cabin. He didn’t speak and neither did she. What was there to say?
She was f**king a stranger, a man she didn’t know and had never seen before last night. A man that was an animal.
The Breed controversy had not touched her. Not during her father’s campaign or his election. Breed Law was something she hadn’t considered too closely for that same fact. It hadn’t touched her. But now it was. Touching her so intimately, in such ways that she wondered if she would survive it.
Chapter Twelve
“Get a bath. I’ll call down to the main house and see about clothes.” He sat her in the middle of the surprisingly large bathroom, beside a deep Jacuzzi tub that she knew her sore muscles were going to fall in love with.
The rough log walls were thick, well sanded and painted a dark redwood. White filling bisected each log and made for an attractive contrast. The tub sat on the far wall with a white porcelain sink a few feet from it. Over a bit more was the toilet; the opposite wall, a wardrobe that Kiowa pulled several towels and a washrag from. He sat a bag of Epsom salts on the sink beside her.
“I’ll get something fixed to eat,” he continued. “Then we can rest for a while before you have to face anything more.”
His expression was closed. Not cold, just unemotional. She had never realized the difference before now. Her father and brother had a habit of going stone-cold when angry or during political confrontations. You could feel the ice coming off them. But not Kiowa. He was just unemotional. Not hot, not cold, as though he just really didn’t give a f**k.
Amanda sat down on the small stool at the side of the tub and began unlacing her boots. She kicked them from her feet, then glanced up as she realized he hadn’t left.
“I’m not an animal.” His voice hadn’t changed, neither had his expression. He made a statement, nothing more.
She had called him an animal. She glanced away, fighting back the anxiety growing in her chest as he continued to watch her.
“I don’t want this,” she said then, staring at the dark wood floor, the colorful rug laid out in front of the tub. “I didn’t ask you to do this to me.”
Even now the heat hadn’t faded from her body. She could have taken him again, easily. Her skin was sensitive, her ni**les engorged and dark red rather than the soft pink they had been days before. Her br**sts were tight, still swollen and she ached for the taste of his kiss. Her mouth watered for it.
“You don’t always get to ask for what life throws at you,” he said then. Unemotional. God she hated that. Only then she realized how much more comforting her father and brother’s chilling politeness could be. At least she knew it indicated some feeling. There was no feeling here. She moved to the elastic at the top of her stockings. They were torn in several places, the red silk ruined. She didn’t bother taking them off with any care, just stripped them from her legs as she ignored his quiet statement.
“I’ll call for some clothes.” He could have been talking about the weather as he turned his back on her.