He used his grip on her hair to pull her into a standing position. He indicated the small fence and she turned and faced away from him, her hands gripping the top rail. He kicked her legs wider and wider until he could see her sweet pussy gleaming at him. She was so ready for him, pink and swollen and nearly crying in her need. He didn’t wait. Didn’t hesitate. He caught both hips and drove into her.
Fire streaked up his legs and centered in his groin. She was scorching hot, surrounding him with silken flames. It was heaven and hell combined. He plunged into her again and again, hard driving strokes, his powerful hands pulling her back to meet him. He could hear her ragged breath as he drove air from her lungs with the force of each surge.
He wanted to be gentle, but the grip of her heat wouldn’t allow it for either of them. She needed to be sated, and wild and rough was their only recourse. “This is love, Ashe.” He whispered it over her head. Stroked one hand down her back in a caress before gripping her hip again. “This is love for you the only way I know how to show it to you.” Giving her what she needed. She gave him everything, and he would burn for her always. Burn until there was nothing left of him.
She pushed back hard, impaling herself as he drove through those soft folds. Then she was keening, wailing, calling out her orgasm to the world. He felt her body clamp down on his and couldn’t stop the storm in his body from erupting into her. He didn’t want to stop it. He let the force of his own orgasm match hers and yelled her name as he blasted his seed into her.
Timur wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the nape of her neck. “Someday, Ashe, I’m going to make love to you so gently, you won’t know who you’re in bed with,” he promised. “I’m going to worship your body the way you worship mine. Don’t think I don’t know or appreciate what you do for me, because I do.”
He would never have said the words to her face. He wasn’t there yet. No one else knew about the poetry he wrote, tucked away in a secret diary he feared an enemy might find someday. A killer with a poet’s heart. How had that happened? He vowed his woman would get that side of him someday, but not yet. His feelings for her were too new, too overwhelming. He had to find a way to reconcile the killer with the lover and poet.
His body gave another shudder and then he began to withdraw. He heard her little cry of pain as he did so. The leopards were so close, pushing on each of them for freedom. He didn’t like being out of her body. Away from her. Alone in his own skin once more. Still, he stroked another caress down her back.
“Shift for me, baby. I want to see your leopard. She’s beautiful. My male says she’s the most beautiful leopard that he’s ever seen. He says she’s unusual.”
He knew his woman would want her female appreciated. He watched her body contort, the fur sliding through to cover her skin. She was a shade faster. He would work on that with her when she wasn’t in heat. The faster they could shift, the safer they were. She stood in front of him, her little body compact, fur very thick, like that of an Amur leopard, but the coloring was different, shades of platinum and gold running through a darker fur. The rosettes were ringed with the two colors and he’d never seen that before. His male was right. She was beautiful, her fur different, and therefore she was more at risk for an enemy to want her pelt.
He shifted quickly, letting his male out. Instantly Temnyy scented the air and grimaced at the smell of several male leopards in close proximity. He nudged his mate, shouldering her, pushing her to run for the grove of trees. She swiped at him with one paw, not at all enamored of his bossy ways. She could scent the other males as easily as he could and knew that in her present state, she would create chaos. They would fight for her. Adore her. Vie to be her mate.
Temnyy turned and raked his teeth down her side. She jumped and went in the direction he pushed her, right toward the grove. It was large and shaded due to the heavy canopy above them. The branches on the trees were thick and twisted one into another to create an arboreal highway aboveground.
Beneath the trees, the vegetation was more scarce because sunlight had a difficult time getting through the canopy. Still, there were bushes and a little stream that ran through the small forest the Arnotto family had created so many years earlier. Godiva ran to the stream and played in it, cooling her paws and then rolling so that the cold water bathed her side where Temnyy had raked her. She snarled at him, letting him know she wasn’t happy with him.