“Yes!” Her uninhibited scream shocked him, renewed him. “God yes, Kiowa. Yours. Yours. Now f**k me, damn you.”
She tightened on him again, her anus flexing, rippling until he had no choice. He was moving inside her, long thrusts that he fought to keep gentle, to keep from hurting her, but her cries urged him on, drove him insane.
His hands were tight on her hips as she followed each stroke, the sound of smacking flesh and wet sex filling the air until he knew he couldn’t bear it any longer. He prayed Dash had known what the hell he was talking about, because Kiowa couldn’t have pulled from her now if both their lives depended on it. He thrust hard and deep, feeling it happen, the tightness halfway up his cock, the sudden swelling as his balls tightened and his c**k hardened further. It was exquisite, the most pleasure he could have known in his life.
The first hard rush of se**n came as he felt her inner walls stretching, allowing the knot to press into her pu**y as it stretched the anal wall, to throb hard and deep inside her, pushing her over an edge unfamiliar to her if her screams were any indication. Throttled, weak sounds interspersed with his name, her vows, her sweet voice swearing she would never run again.
His. Always his.
His teeth bit into her, even though he had sworn to deny himself that pleasure. This time, there was no blood, only sweet, giving female flesh beneath his laving tongue and her soft voice urging him on.
He filled her with his se**n, jerking above her, feeling the hard pulse of her release as well, and knowing at that moment, if she ever left him, if he ever lost her, he would be only half a man. His soul would wither to dust and life would, for the first time, become an event not worthy of his notice.
Chapter Twenty-One
“What is that?” Amanda stared at the article hanging above the bed drowsily. It looked like a spider’s web, spun within a circle of branches. Small gems were threaded into the web, and above, where it hung from the ceiling, several small pouches were attached to the string.
“It’s a dream catcher.” Kiowa lay on his side, snuggled close to her, one arm beneath her head, the other thrown over her stomach as she rested against his chest.
“I’ve heard of those.” She frowned.
Kiowa grunted. “My mother was half Kiowa Indian. She wove it before she sent me away with my grandfather. It’s supposed to bring good dreams. To catch visions and hold them in place while allowing nightmares to escape and trouble you no longer.”
She tilted her head curiously.
“Most of the Breeds resemble Native Americans, why is that?”
He sighed at her question, shifting onto his back to stare up at the dream catcher.
“The genetically altered sperm has a lot of Native American coding. The scientists, in their studies, decided that it would create fiercer fighters, more savage soldiers when combined with the animal DNA.”
He shrugged dismissively.
She tilted her head, staring at the intricate, fragile weave and the small crystals that looked like dew upon a spider’s web.
“Does it bring good dreams?” she asked him then, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was a mix of regret and acceptance. He didn’t resent the past, but he was determined it wouldn’t be repeated.
“It’s a keepsake.” He finally turned away from it and she knew it was much more than that to him. She continued to stare up at it silently.
“Did you ever see your mother after your grandfather took you?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine her life without her family. As aggravating and frustrating as they could be, they were still her family.
“Never.” That unemotional tone again.
She looked over at him as he rose from the bed, seeing the mask firmly in place.
“Are you ready for breakfast yet?”
Amanda eased up in the bed, aware of sore muscles, tender flesh. He had taken her long into the night, riding her with a desperation and a skill that had nearly destroyed them both on several occasions.
“Kiowa,” she said softly. “This is why I ran from you last night. If you won’t talk to me, then this mating thing is never going to have a chance.”
He grunted at that. “Last I heard from you, you weren’t giving it a chance anyway.” He moved to the dresser and pulled out a change of clothes. “I’m going to get a shower. I’ll fix breakfast while you take yours.”
Amanda lowered her head, biting her lip nervously.
“I’ll keep running, Kiowa.”
He stopped. She raised her head, watching the play of muscles beneath his dark skin.