The kiss was like a sensual explosion. It imploded inside her senses, laid waste to logic, to common sense, to the dreams, the hopes, the certainty she could overcome what she’d been created to be.
His tongue pumped between her lips as she licked at it desperately, allowed it to duel with hers, to spill the mating poison, to rush through her senses and jerk her on that wild, furious ride once again.
Long minutes later, dazed, drugged with the sensual heat, she pulled her head back. Retaining her grip on his hair, she met the challenge in those wild gray eyes and the less-than-perfect features. As she stared up at him, one broad, calloused palm cupped her breast; his fingers gripped her nipple, tightened, and her head slammed back against the wall.
The sensations were terrible; they were exquisite. Agony and ecstasy slamming into the hard tip before ripping a line of sizzling electric heat straight to her pussy.
“Again.” Her voice was strangled. “Do it again.”
Easing the pressure, he did it again, this time harder, dragging a demented cry from her lips as his other hand slid between her damp thighs.
Damp because the slick moisture was weeping from her, spilling from the swollen lips between her thighs to the fingers now tucking between the folds to catch the silken heat.
“Come here, mate.” Releasing her nipple and the desperately aching flesh between her thighs, he lifted her to him, turned and sat her on the top of the tall table.
Still gripping his hair, she jerked his head to her breasts, her breathing hard, heavy, her chest tight with the screams she was holding in, the denials she so desperately wanted to give voice to.
“Suck my nipple,” she demanded, pushing one enflamed tip to his lips. “Hard. Like you gripped it. Do it.”
She watched him. Their gazes locked as he snarled, then gripped the tip between his teeth and applied the painful, ecstatic pressure she needed.
White, strong teeth, curved canines at the side, a brutal snarl of lust on his lips.
His hands gripped her legs beneath her knees, jerked them up and forced her feet to the top of the table. With his teeth gripping her nipple, his tongue lashing it, his hand moved between her spread thighs. A second later a long, agonized sound of keening pleasure escaped her lips.
Two fingers pushed inside her, hard, deep. There were no preliminaries, no warning, just the sudden fullness and a firestorm of sensation tearing through her.
Her hips jerked, then bore down on the fingers as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, devouring first one, then the other. Lips, teeth, tongue, suckling pressure and mind-consuming ecstasy. She didn’t have to think here. She didn’t have to consider what she was, what he’d turned her into.
“That’s it,” he snarled, lifting his lips as she fought to drive herself on his fingers. “Ride my fingers, mate. Look.” He lifted enough to stare down their bodies, t
o watch her hips, to see the penetration of her body as she ground herself onto his palm. “Greedy baby. How much do you want? How much before you beg me to stop?”
Beg him to stop? She could take anything, everything he wanted to dish out.
“Go to hell,” she cried out, but she couldn’t help but watch as her hips pulled back, revealing the heavy layer of thick juices that clung to his fingers, before she slammed onto his fingers again, burying them inside her.
She froze for only a second. Before she could halt the downward thrust he added a third finger and pushed inside her, even as she slammed her hips onto the penetration. She could feel her muscles clenching around the invasion, rippling with involuntary spasms.
“Enough?” She hated the challenge in his voice. Hated it. “Or more?”
His fingers curled, found a spot so sensitive, so explosively responsive, that she couldn’t hold back the climax that shot through her system. And it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough. It only made her body hotter, made her senses more maddened.
“You bastard!” she cried out, her hands gripping his forearms, nails biting into his flesh.
Seconds later the thicker, hotter flesh of his shaft pressed against her, a hard spurt of hormonal pre-cum shooting inside her. His shaft parted flesh still highly sensitive, still clenching in pleasure, and slowly—oh God, so slowly—began parting her inner flesh, penetrating her, filling her until she was certain she could take no more even as the hormonal ejaculations continued.
Dragging her gaze from the penetration, she glared up at him. The hint of softening in his expression disappeared; the arrogance and challenge returned.
“Do it,” she snarled. “Fuck me and get it over with it. Go ahead you bastard Coyote. Do your worst.”
His worst. He destroyed her. Powerful, deep thrusts filled her, pushed inside her, stretched her with such exquisite pleasure she couldn’t help but hold on to him.
Stars exploded behind her tightly closed eyes and she sobbed in a mix of ecstasy and fear. Because she knew nothing, nothing, could ever be the same again.
• CHAPTER 2 •
The sun was high and painting the desert with the coming heat of a rapidly approaching noon, not that the penetrating rays could find its way into the comm center of the Western Bureau of Breed Affairs. From there, digital displays of the desert and surrounding towns were lit up, pinpoints of light indicating the Breed forces working in search patterns as they scoured the land for one tiny, far too delicate Breed female. “Find her! Now!” Jonas Wyatt, director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, snarled the order in a voice filled with demand. A demand backed by the genetics of one of the most predatory animals in the world. The lion.