“Don’t,” came her guttural reply.
The pleasure peaked and exploded out of him, his ejaculations filling her up—and that seemed to carry her over her own ledge. A sudden stiffening of her body told him the release had come to her as well, and then he felt the powerful milking of her sex, the way his head and shaft were gripped in waves driving him wild.
He came again.
“More,” she said. “Kane…”
She wanted him, he thought. She truly wanted him.
As he pushed his arms around her so he could hold on better, he dropped his head and just let go so he orgasmed again, and again, and another time.
He was a raw instrument of marking, his bonding creating a need to make sure that any male would know she was his, that she would carry his essence inside of her, that there would be a scent, a warning to others that she was taken, she was claimed.
And that a male would defend her. To the death, if necessary.
Beneath him, Nadya was riding the crests of her own pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut, her breath panting, a flush on her face. He wished she were naked, that they both were, but time was tight and privacy relative and fragile.
He had no idea how many times he came. It was like he had been pent up his entire adult life—then again, that was true. And he wanted to keep going forever.
But he also wanted to be careful not to hurt her.
When he finally slowed down, and then stopped, he had to recover, his head going down to the rail of the cot, his lungs burning, his body spent.
“Are you…”
Her laugh was magical. “Yes, I’m fine.” Her hand made a slow circle on his back. “More than fine.”
Rolling to the side, so he didn’t crush her—he nearly cursed. She’d been on the hard floor.
Not that she seemed to mind or even notice. She was glowing, positively incandescent, as she lay on her side facing him.
“Hi,” he said. Which was stupid.
“Hi.”
They stayed together, touching softly, still joined, lips brushing from time to time, for… he didn’t know how long. But then he began to worry someone would come down. Though they would not be judged, he felt compelled to protect her modesty.
“My kingdom for a shower,” she murmured.
“Your wish is my command.”
Before she could tell him not to bother, he got up and stuffed his sex back into his pants. A quick zip-up, and he was walking to the shower. Cranking it on, he didn’t see any soap or shampoo—no, wait. There were some bottles on a little shelf.
“I’ll watch out in case someone comes down.”
He glanced behind himself. And forgot how to breathe.
Nadya had stood up and was pulling off the loose blue shirt that she had borrowed from the ambulance. Revealed in glorious nakedness, her body was all curves and planes that enticed, her breasts perfectly sized, her bare sex something that made him lick his lips.
And his essence slicked the insides of her thighs.
“Come here, female,” he said, holding out his hand.
Because she made his legs unreliable.
Nadya came to him like a summer breeze, gentle and warm, and as she stepped under the warm spray, he eased back and watched her arch to wet her newly grown hair.
Her nipples caught the water and the drips that fell were heavenly rain…