"Always?" She should have been alarmed. Always was not supposed to be in her vocabulary. She had no desire to be under a man's thumb, just under this man's body.
His lips moved back up her neck, his tongue licking at her flesh as a rumbling growl broke from his chest.
"Just a taste," he whispered as he reached her lips, his arms lowering from the braced position against the wall beside her head. "Stay very still, baby. I just need a taste." His lips ghosted over hers as she stared back at him, her gaze locked with his, seeing the hunger, the aching, soul-deep need he had kept hidden beneath lowered lashes or behind mocking humor.
But now it was laid bare to her, as clear, as desperate as the aching hunger for him that pulsed low in her stomach. She trembled as she felt his hands at the front of her robe, his lips, nipping at hers, parting them, retreating, only to come back for more as she held on to his wrists with a death grip. The buttons on her robe gave way, the edges falling apart as they both breathed harshly, the silence of the kitchen broken only by their gasps of pleasure.
"You're so wet. I can smell how wet you are. How sweet," he whispered as he stared back at her, his fingers working on the buttons of her gown. "Like the fragrance of summer, heating me, reminding me of life, of living."
His words shook her to her core.
"Do you know what the smell of your sweet pu**y does to me?" He smoothed her gown apart, the cool air brushing against her naked br**sts as she whimpered in an arousal so sharp, so desperate, she wondered if she would survive it. "It makes me hungry, Lyra. Hungry to take you, to hear you screaming beneath me as I bury every inch of my c**k as deep inside you as possible."
She cried out sharply, unable to contain the sound. Could a woman orgasm from words alone? His explicit language was driving her over the edge, earthy and lustful, filled with a desire no man had ever shown her before.
He grimaced, showing the incisors at the side of his mouth as his gaze moved to the rapid rise and fall of her br**sts.
"Look how pretty." He took her hand from his wrist, spread her fingers, and then wrapped it around the lush mound. She stared back at him in shock, her eyes flickering to where she cupped her own flesh, her hand surrounded by his.
"Feed it to me," he whispered then, his voice wicked, filled with lust. "I want to taste it."
She shuddered, a whimper escaping her throat at the pure eroticism of what he was doing to her.
His hand moved back hers. "Give it to me, Lyra. Press that pretty, hard nipple into my mouth."
She couldn't believe she was doing it. That she was lifting her breast, leaning forward as he bent his knees, lowering himself to allow the straining nub to pass his lips. He licked it first.
"Oh God, Tarek." She was shaking like a leaf, pinpoints of explosive pleasure detonating through her body.
He licked it again, his tongue, rasping roughly, like wet velvet gliding over the sensitive tip.
Then he growled. A hard, savage sound as his lips opened, parted, to envelope the hard point into the wild, wet heat of his mouth.
She climaxed.
Lyra's hands shot to his head, her fingers tangling in the rough strands of his hair as something exploded deep within her womb. Pleasure rushed through her sex, drenching her, spilling to her thighs as she lost her breath.
He hadn't even kissed her yet.
His head rose from her nipple, his hands lifting, pulling hers from his hair as he settled them against her sides. He laid his against her shoulders, smoothing the unbuttoned gown and robe slowly from her arms as she shook before him. Lyra swallowed tightly, small whimpers passing her lips as she stood naked before him. Naked—she never wore underwear beneath her gowns—while he was fully clothed, watching her with glowing gold eyes, his expression predatory, savage.
"Sweet little virgin," he whispered, his gaze moving down her body, finally coming to rest on the bare, slick folds between her thighs. "Naughty little baby." His eyes moved back to hers.
"Imagine how my tongue is going to feel there. Sliding through all that hot, sweet syrup. Will you come for me again, Lyra? Will you cry for me again?"
He took her hand, moving it to the snap of his jeans as he watched her with savage eyes.
"Make your choice now, Lyra. Accept me."
Good Lord, what was she supposed to do about him? She was standing there naked in front of him, and he still could not reason out that she had already accepted him? Even with all the weird Breed mating stuff, she couldn't imagine not accepting him.
"Kiss me," she demanded roughly, her fingers moving to the metal snaps of his jeans, releasing them slowly, the hard heat of his erection beneath making the task difficult.
"God." He snarled the prayer as he shuddered against her, his hands gripping her hips as his eyes clenched shut for long seconds.
"Kiss me, Tarek," she whispered, reaching for him, her lips brushing his as his head lowered, his eyes blazing with hunger, pain, and need as he watched her. "Make me crazier." The front of his jeans parted beneath her trembling fingers, the hard, generous width of his erection rising from the material, flushed and desperate as she glanced down nervously. She licked her lips.
"I hope you know what to do with it." She finally swallowed lightly. "Because I don't have a clue."