Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (18 page)

The corner of his mouth twitched with a grin. “Strong
women happen to turn me on,” he rasped, the husky words feeling like foreplay.
“I’ll let you have your turn.”

He settled onto the foot of the bed then, and Morgan
tried to stay calm. But God, it wasn’t easy. She hadn’t done this in a long
time, her interest in sex waning over the years. Not that she’d ever been a
prude. She’d just been…picky about her partners. And when they wanted to get
serious, that had been her clue to walk away. Unfortunately, that meant that
she now felt shaky and out of practice, everything he did shocking her to a
bright, nervous awareness. The intimacy of having Kierland Scott pressing his
mouth to the inside of her bent knee, and higher, against the pale skin of her
inner thigh, had her shivering and strung tight with breathtaking excitement.

He moved higher, crawling over her body like something
stalking its prey, and Morgan made a sound that she’d never made before.
Something low and thick, like a purr, the erotic hum making him pause. It was
obvious from the heat in his eyes as he slid a blistering look up at her face
that he’d liked it. A lot.

As he lowered himself over her, she felt his shocking
heat and his hardness, and knew, in that moment, that there was no going back.
He was all over her, his hands, his mouth, the delicious weight of his huge
body pressing her down, while his male scent made her head spin. Her breath was
jerking so sharply it made her chest hurt, but she didn’t care. All that
mattered was getting more of him…all of him.

His fingers shaped themselves around her skull again
as he kissed his way into her mouth, his body so hard and hot and strong, his
taste rich…drugging, making her writhe. The strangest sensation of bursting
from the confines of her body spread through her, and yet, she was still
there…still whole. But it was like a switch had been flipped inside her mind,
and Morgan could suddenly feel everything he did, every touch…every brush of
his fingers and his lips, more sharply than she’d ever felt anything before.

He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled back her
head, dragging kisses along her arched throat, his breath uneven and loud in
the quiet shadows of the room, same as hers. And then he started to kiss his
way down the front of her body. He flicked his tongue against the rapid flutter
of her pulse in the base of her throat, his mouth warm against her skin as he
placed kisses across her chest, then lower. As he ran his lips along the curve
of her breast, stroking the damp heat of his tongue across one painfully tight
nipple, she cried out, the sharp sound becoming a low moan as he reached
between her legs with those long, wicked fingers, knowing just where to rub and
stroke and tease. She was already drenched, burning for him, trembling with
need.

Lifting his head, Kierland locked his gaze with hers
as he pushed two fingers inside the tight, slippery clench of her sex, gently
thrusting the hard knuckles back and forth within the small, swollen opening.
“You’re tight,” he grunted, his hot breath brushing against a sensitive nipple.
“Feels incredible. My hand’s in heaven.”

Aware of the warmth beneath her skin, Morgan turned
her face into the rumpled bedding. God, it was crazy, how shy she felt. She
wasn’t innocent, for God’s sake—and yet, she felt like they were going
someplace she’d never been before. That something unfamiliar and unknown lay on
the other side, waiting for her, and she was…worried. About what she would find
when they got there.

About being left there alone.

And what was truly frightening was how easily he
seemed to read her, as if he was right there inside her mind, picking his way
through her thoughts.

“Stop thinking,” he rasped, his warm lips moving
against her nipple as he spoke. “Stop worrying. I don’t want anything else in
this room but the two of us. Not the past. Not…anything.”

Not the future, either, she thought, but she bit back
the words. She wasn’t an idiot. She craved him…and if this was all she could
have, she was damn well greedy enough to take it.

He moved farther down, placing kisses and gnawing
bites against her skin as he worked his way along her body, until he was
kneeling between her thighs, his shoulders solid and broad and roped with
muscle. She could feel the press of his hot gaze as he spread her with his
thumbs, his breath warm and moist against the slick, sensitive folds.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, just before he lowered his
dark head and took a long, lingering lick. Her groan blended with his deep,
guttural growl, and her back arched as he went at her again, licking and
lapping as if he’d found something delicious to devour. Something he needed to
get more of. Squeezing her eyes shut, Morgan figured she should have known he’d
be amazing. He gave oral sex in a way that left no doubt about the fact that he
was enjoying it, taking as much pleasure from the erotic act as he gave. His
strong hands pressed her knees to the bed, holding her open in a blatantly
explicit pose, while his mouth ate at her like he was starved for her taste,
his tongue lashing against her clit with hot, wet strokes, before thrusting
inside her. She choked out broken, sobbing phrases that didn’t make any sense,
her hands finding the damp, silken locks of his hair and holding tight.

Kierland muttered something dirty and gruff and
impossibly sexy about her taste, the provocative words buzzing in her ears.
Then he pushed two thick fingers as deep as she could take them, and Morgan was
gone. Flying. Screaming. Completely destroyed, the violent pulses thrashing her
with pleasure, leaving her damp and pink and wrecked, her arms and legs flung
wide, while she struggled to draw in a decent breath. It took a few seconds,
but when she finally managed to crack open her heavy eyelids, she saw him
lifting his glistening fingers to his mouth…and licking them with his tongue.

His throat worked as he swallowed. “Like I said
before. Incredible.” He sounded drunk, though he’d had only one beer with their
meal. But his husky words were pleasure slurred at the edges, his eyes drowsy
and hot with fever as he looked up at her, a fine sheen of sweat covering his
face and shoulders and throat. A single lock of auburn hair fell over his brow,
and Morgan reached down to push it back, threading her fingers through the
warm, silken strands.

“I think that’s my line,” she said unsteadily,
horrified to feel the moisture on her face, the salty taste of tears at the
corner of her mouth.

“So strong,” he murmured, leaning over her as he
stroked one callused palm along the inside of her thigh, then over her hip, up
along her side. When he reached her face, he rubbed his thumb against the edge
of her trembling mouth, and leaned down, pressing the hot silk of his lips
against the corner of her eye, where the tears were flowing freely. “But you’re
not as hard as you pretend to be, are you?”

BEFORE MORGAN COULD GIVE him an answer, Kierland
pressed the straining head of his cock to her warm entrance, and pushed deep,
shoving hard, with all his strength, unable to wait a single second more to be
a part of her. Her scream instantly filled his ears, her body clasping him in
the tightest, sweetest hold he’d ever felt. She was smaller than he’d expected,
almost virginal, though he knew damn well that she wasn’t.

But Morgan obviously hadn’t done this in a long time,
and he didn’t know what to think of that. He’d have pegged her as having a
different lover every week, but…he’d have been wrong, and he cursed something
hot and gritty under his breath, hating that he might have hurt her.

Lowering his head, he nuzzled his mouth beneath her
ear. “You okay?”

“F-fine,” she whispered, and though her voice shook,
he could tell that she was trying to sound strong. “I’m fine.”

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, lifting his head so that
he could see her face.

“Just caught me a little off guard,” she murmured, and
he smiled, knowing she’d rather cut out her tongue than admit a weakness to
him. But the smile fell as she lifted her hand to his damp face, her fingertips
lingering against his hot skin. “I should’ve known you’d be a lot to handle,”
she said huskily, widening her knees with a voluptuous little movement that
took him even deeper.

“Damn it,” he growled, shaking, shocked to realize
that his control was already shot to hell.

Kierland managed to hold still for all of another ten
seconds, letting her get used to the feel of him…and then he lost it.

With a primal, animalistic snarl on his lips, he
covered her mouth with his, swallowing her sharp cry of surprise as he pulled
back his hips, dragging his shaft through the drenched clasp of those tight
inner muscles. Then he drove back in with a powerful thrust, putting all his
strength, all his power behind it, shoving into her the way he’d spent the past
decade dreaming of entering her, penetrating her, the pleasure so intense it
was a sharp, physical ache.

He couldn’t get over how it felt to be inside her. A
part of her.

Incredible didn’t do it justice. Nor did amazing or
wonderful or any of the other adjectives Kierland had heard people use to
describe good sex. He loved how the slightest brush of his mouth against her
damp skin made her clench around him. How the barest brush of his callused
fingertips over her nipples brought the most sensual arch to her back. She was
so responsive…so sweet, that he couldn’t control it. He gave it to her rough
and raw, pumping into her with more hunger and aggression than he’d ever shown
with any other lover. But then, this was Morgan. The one he’d always wanted.
The woman he thought about every time he took another female beneath him. He
couldn’t control his body or temper his body’s craving. He was too far gone,
completely strung out on the bliss-drenched feeling of shoving himself into her
hot, slippery little sex.

Release was bearing down on him, unstoppable and huge,
but he forced it back, needing to feel her coming around his cock—soaking him,
sucking him in, all those cushiony muscles fluttering around his shaft in
strong, voluptuous pulls. He needed to be buried inside her, thick and deep,
when she crashed over the edge. But she was fighting it…straining against
release, doing everything she could to hold it back.

“Let go, damn you.” He licked his thumb and reached
down, between their bodies, rubbing the callused pad against her clit, and she
trembled, writhing, her short claws digging into his arms, drawing blood.
“Don’t you dare try to hold back on me.”

“I won’t,” she gasped, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark
with passion. Kierland took his thumb from her clit and caught her behind her
knee, pulling it up so that he could sink even deeper, and suddenly her
mouthwatering scent was becoming even richer, filling the air, and he knew her
shields were dropping as she lost control. With his next thrust, he buried
every thick, rigid inch of his cock inside her, grinding against her clit, and
then she was coming, convulsing around him in strong, gushing pulls. It was all
he could do to keep from following her over.

Not yet, damn it. Not yet.

Gritting his teeth, the Lycan fought it down,
determined to make it last. He was spellbound by the tears he could see
glistening in her eyes. She looked so soft…so fragile, the toughness of the
warrior ripped away to reveal the tenderness of the woman she always tried so
hard to hide. It was beautiful, breathtaking, and now that he’d found it, he
wanted more.

Burying his face in her silken hair, Kierland admitted
to himself that while he was damn proud to fight beside her as a colleague, it
was this deliciously soft female that he wanted in bed with him, and he knew
he’d do whatever it took to get her beneath him again.

She whispered his name, and he lifted his head,
staring into her eyes as he rolled his hips, moving in slow, lunging thrusts
that drenched him in pleasure, her body tight and warm and impossibly tender.

She swallowed, ran her tongue over her top lip, and
quietly said, “I want…I want to bite you.”

At the sound of those hoarse words, Kierland got even
harder…thicker, and her eyes went wide as she felt the difference in him—felt
his wolf rising within him, making the change in his body. He’d have never been
able to fit inside her like that if she wasn’t so wet, the tight, silken
friction too good to be real.

“Can…I?” she asked, wetting her lips, her gaze
fastened hungrily on the pumping of his jugular in the side of his throat.
Although she didn’t “need” blood for feeding, it wasn’t uncommon for female
shifters to hunger for it when their animal instincts had been aroused. It
wasn’t the first time Kierland had been asked the question by a lover—but it
was the first time he’d ever wanted to say yes.

With his wolf punching against his insides, desperate
for what was coming, Kierland turned his head and offered her what she wanted.
There was a small whimpering sound of excitement, and then she licked the heavy
vein with her tongue, scraping her small, delicate fangs against him in a way
that was sexy as all get out. The prick of her sharp teeth against his flesh
made him shudder, his control slipping as he rammed into her, giving her
everything that he had.

The Lycan hadn’t been concerned about controlling his
beast…but now he wondered if maybe he should have been—because he wanted
nothing more than to sink his fangs into her, as well. Gritting his teeth,
Kierland reached down with one hand, anchoring it under her bottom to hold her
in place, then wrapped the other around one of the wooden slats in the
headboard. She started pulling on the wound, taking his hot blood into her
throat, and he went even further over the edge, slamming into her with a
desperate, primal urgency. The wooden slat snapped in his hand, and he reached
higher, grabbing the thick crossbeam at the top of the headboard, his fingers
making deep hollows in the wood as he felt himself starting to come.