"Ah hell, Sugar. How tight you are." Hoarse and growling, his voice rumbled at her ear. "It feels as though my dick is lodged in a vise. A perfect, hot, slick wee vise that does nothin' but pleasure it."
Pleasure surrounded her. She trembled, shuddered in the grip of it as she fought to hold on to to something, anything, that would allow her to maintain just enough of her senses to memorize each touch, each sound, each stroke.
She thought she'd known the most pleasure she could feel. That it couldn't get better, that it couldn't become more intense, until he began moving.
The feel of his c**k tunneling inside her, stroking the tight, brutally sensitive flesh, stole that last measure of sanity she had been desperate to hold on to.
Instinct became all that kept her breathing. It kept her crying out his name as she begged for release, as the pleasure stroked through the overly sensitive channel that fought to grip and hold him in place.
Digging her nails into the blankets, Storme thrust back against him, taking him deeper, harder as he groaned behind her.
It was exquisite.
"So good," she moaned, dazed, near senseless from the pleasure that built to a burning, desperate peak. "Oh God, Styx. Harder. It's so good."
It was pure ecstasy, undiluted and raging through her system, burning through her mind.
The heavy thrusts were destroying her, pushing her higher and tightening through her body until she felt her orgasm beginning to blaze through her.
She tried to scream. Her body tightened until she wondered if it would break.
Behind her, Styx thrust again and again, then with a deep, hard growl in her ear, she felt the first pulse of his release, the hard, burning swell of his c**k in the sensitive mass of muscles gripping the erection.
Her eyes widened as a wailing cry of rapture tore from her throat. The knot extended, stretching her tighter, locking him deeper inside her as she felt his se**n spurting against the entrance of her womb.
Ecstasy enveloped her. She came and came, each shuddering rush of pleasure a burning firestorm of sensation as she shook beneath him, her shoulders collapsing to the bed as her hips pressed tighter into his and another surge of release swept through her, like a tidal wave of sensation, and she felt his teeth rake, then lock into the sensitive flesh of her neck.
It seemed never ending. Each pulse of the knot locked inside her sent another wave of agonizing pleasure rushing across her senses. Each spurt of se**n, each hard jerk of his hips was catastrophic.
She could do nothing but tremble in his grasp, give herself to each sensation and marvel at what she had found in her Breed's embrace.
This was perfection, she thought. Or as close as she was going to get.
As he collapsed against her, his hard body sheltering her, Storme finally understood why she had always been so torn where the Breeds were concerned.
Not simply because her hatred had been based on the actions of only one. Not just because of her fears. She had been torn because she belonged to one. Because a part of her had always known the injustices they suffered were just as much her fault as they were her father's, her brother's, or the fault of any Council member who allowed it to happen.
The Breeds were animals, creatures or creations. They were as deserving of life, freedom and love as any other living being on Earth.
This man though, he was hers.
EPILOGUE
Ashley True and her Enforcer partner, Sharone, flanked their coya, Anya Delgado, as she stood at the front door of Styx's home. Their alpha, Del Rey, his second in command Brim Stone, the Wolf Breed alpha Wolfe, and Hope Gunnar stood respectfully behind Ashley.
Styx stepped to the side and allowed them to enter, his gaze taking in the ravaged pale features of the coya and the steely, hard-eyed purpose in the female Coyotes that served as her personal bodyguards whenever her mate wasn't at her side.
Storme stood inside the living room, dressed, still scratched, her green eyes solemn as Anya stepped before her.
"We haven't met." Anya's voice was husky and tear-roughened. "I'm Alpha Delgado's mate and coya of the Coyote Breeds, Anya Delgado."
"Coya Delgado." Storme inclined her head in respect, but as normal with a newly mated lover, she didn't attempt to touch the other woman, and the coya knew well not to attempt to touch Storme.
The first weeks during the initial mating heat were exacting on a woman. Her body didn't want to tolerate even the touch of the Breed doctor, or suffer the tests required to allow the scientist to create a hormonal therapy that would ease the symptoms of her mating.
"Ms. Montague," the coya's voice roughened again as she clasped her hands in front of her and a tear eased from an eye, "please accept my most sincere apology ..."
"Coya, please don't." Storme shook her head as she spoke gently. "What happened wasn't your fault, your alpha's or Alpha Gunnar's. Marx, Greg and Fargo made their own choices. I would never hold you or anyone else in Haven responsible for that."