Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (27 page)

With shaking fingers, Morgan pulled the T-shirt over
her head and walked toward him. But instead of putting her arms around his
shoulders, she dropped down to her knees, and knew she’d shocked the hell out
of him at the swift, indrawn sound of his breath.

She’d never seen his eyes as green as they were in
that moment, the flickering light from the fire gleaming on the wine-dark
strands of his thick, unruly hair. In a voice that sounded like churning
gravel, he said, “What the hell are you doing?”

“You don’t have to be jealous anymore,” she whispered,
reaching up and pressing her palm over the hard, heavy length of his cock.
“You’re the only man that I want.”

She leaned forward, scraping her teeth along that
massive ridge constrained beneath tight denim, and a raw, fractured groan of
pleasure tore from his throat, the erotic sound the sexiest thing she’d ever
heard. His head fell back, his breathing loud…uneven, while his intoxicating
scent grew warmer, drugging her senses.

“Morgan.”

She’d never heard her name growled with so much
longing…so much need, and her own breath became choppy as she shoved the denim
and cotton boxers down his lean hips, and then he was there, surging from that
dark patch of hair, more brutal and beautiful than any man had the right to be.

His breathing was ragged, the powerful muscles in his
rigid thighs hard with tension, the air heavy with a sharp, seductive weight of
anticipation. She could have played the tease, making him wait, but she was too
desperate for his taste. There was far too much of him to fit in her mouth, but
with a low moan of pleasure vibrating in her throat, Morgan took as much as she
could, loving the salty heat of him, his sharp male energy blasting against
her, hot on her face. With her hands wrapped around the broad base of his
shaft, she licked and suckled, greedy for as much of him as she could take. In
that moment, the only thoughts surging through her pleasure-dazed mind were of
need and want and aching desire. Every voluptuous pull of her mouth on his
hard, pulsing shaft was the answer to some burning question inside her heart.
She needed his taste and his heat and his pleasure like she needed her next
breath.

His fingers tightened in her hair, his hips punching
forward in a hard, reflexive movement, shoving impossibly deep, while a harsh
cry ripped from his throat. She smiled, licking up that heavy, throbbing
length, his hot, suede-soft skin stretched taut over rigid steel, and realized
that there was simply nothing in the world as sexy as making the master of
control completely lose it. Aside from Ashe, who’d always been incredibly
gentle with her, she’d never chosen an alpha lover among the few that she’d
had, preferring betas. Men she could easily control. But there was a hell of a
lot to be said for going head-to-head with a man who knew what he wanted, and
wasn’t afraid to take it. Demand it.

“Finish it,” he growled in a raw voice, his blistering
look one of primal command and savage desperation. He held her head compressed between
his hot hands, his thumbs brushing the corners of her mouth. “Make me come,
Morgan.”

“Get the rest of your clothes off, first,” she
whispered, caressing his mouthwatering length with a strong, possessive grip.
“I want to see you. All of you. Every inch of skin.”

Color burned across the bridge of his nose and his
sharp cheekbones, his skin fever hot to the touch, all but steaming with barely
restrained hunger. “Damn it, Morgan. Stop dicking around with me.”

“I’m not. I swear. I’ll go down on you all night
long,” she promised, her voice trembling with excitement, husky and hoarse, the
sound of it making his eyes go dark. “Give you as much as you can take. But I
want you bare, Kier. I want to be able to look at your body.”

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. He did as
she said, though he didn’t treat his clothes with any degree of kindness, his
jaw locked as he cursed a foul string of words under his breath and began
ripping them from his body with hard, urgent movements. Her lips curled in a
slow, satisfied smile, her senses humming with decadent pleasure when he was
finally standing before her, sublimely naked, his body all sleek, solid muscle
and beautiful lines, with a You’re gonna scream when I get my mouth on you look
in his eyes.

“Damn it, I can’t wait,” he growled, suddenly reaching
down and grasping her under her arms.

“I thought you wanted to come in my mouth,” she
whispered.

“Next time,” he panted, ripping at the drawstring on
her sweats and shoving them down her hips.

SATISFACTION THICKENED IN Kierland’s veins as her eyes
went glassy, glazed with hunger, and he wanted to howl.

Then she shocked the hell out of him by shoving at his
chest, and they went toppling to the floor. He took the brunt of the fall on
his back, the Navajo rug spread out in front of the hearth doing little to
soften the impact, not that he cared. He could have been run over by a Mack
truck, and he wouldn’t have flinched, his entire focus on Morgan…and getting
inside her. She landed across his chest in a soft heap of smooth skin and
womanly curves, then wiggled to his side, latching back onto his cock with that
lush, wet mouth, the suction so good his damn eyes nearly rolled back in his
head.

“I told you next time,” he rasped, lifting his head so
that he could watch her going down on him, her pink tongue flicking against the
dark head with a teasing swipe, before sucking him back in. “Damn it, Morgan. I
need to be inside you.”

“You are inside me,” she muttered, her lips moving
against the sensitive crown. “Face it, Kier. You just wanted me to stop because
you didn’t like that you were losing control.”

“I lose control every goddamn time that I touch you,”
he growled. He hated it, but it was the truth.

Maybe it was what had happened with his parents. Or
the hard-ass upbringing he and Kell had suffered at the hands of their
grandfather. Whatever the reason, Kierland had grown into a man who didn’t like
situations he couldn’t be in command of—and God only knew that he’d never been
able to command Morgan to do a damn thing.

But he couldn’t deny that he wanted her, now more than
ever, the want deepening with every minute that ticked by. He needed his fill
of her, needed more of her, until he’d found some way to burn her out of his
bloody system.

Never gonna happen. Not even possible.

The husky words slithered through his mind, and he
ground his jaw, determined to ignore them—and it was amazingly easy to do, with
her lush, provocative scent growing stronger, filling his head, his mouth watering
for another taste of her.

Reaching for her hips, Kierland pulled until she was
lying on the floor beside him, her damp curls just inches from his mouth. With
a feral growl, he shoved her legs apart, revealing the slick, candy-pink flesh
of her sex, the scent of those glistening folds pulling a thick animal sound of
hunger up from his chest. Spreading her open with his thumbs, he leaned
forward, her mouth still wrapped around his cock, and lapped his tongue through
all that sweet, melting honey, her taste hitting his system like a drug. One
that already had him addicted, craving his next hit…and his next.

He could have lost himself for hours, days, in the
warm, honeyed sweetness of her slippery juices, the flavor so perfect, it was
like she’d been made for him. Lashing the tiny kernel of her clit with his
tongue, he shoved two thick fingers inside the delicate, softly pulsing
opening, and with a startled cry, she started to come for him. Hard and wet and
achingly sweet. He shoved his fingers deeper, loving the way she clutched at him,
the rhythmic pulse of her cushiony sheath as she screamed against his cock,
taking him even deeper, nearly shoving him over the edge, the pleasure so
intense it was like a physical pain.

Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he thrust into
her, drinking her in, ravenous for her taste, while a dizzying spiral of
questions kept working their way through his mind.

How could something so bloody good be wrong? Why
couldn’t he simply accept the past and get on with the future? Go down on his
knees and beg this woman for a chance at what he’d always wanted…needed…craved?

Stupid questions, when he already knew the answers.
For one, he didn’t trust himself, and never would. And then there was the part
of him that feared she was still in love with Ashe Granger. Hell, for all he
knew, maybe she was only using him to make Granger jealous. Was he really the
one that she wanted between her beautiful little thighs? Or was she just
playing him? Would she go running back to the bastard if he asked her to?
Kierland didn’t know, damn it, and the frustration of it was driving him out of
his goddamn mind.

With a deep, guttural growl, he reached down, fisted
his fingers in her silken hair, and pulled her away from his cock. A second
later, he had her on her back, her knees hooked over his arms, her husky cries
filling his head as he buried himself about a mile inside her. Sweating,
swearing, he pumped into her, slamming his hips against hers, driven by a
savage, primal desperation.

She was impossibly tight, still a little swollen from
the day before, but wet enough that he was able to get in every hard,
blood-thick inch. Bracing himself on his knees, Kierland grasped her hips and
pulled her over his spread thighs, working her on his slick shaft, the erotic
friction so incredible he was ready to explode on the first thrust. But he bit
it back, refusing to go over until he had her screaming and clawing at him, her
face flushed, her lithe body convulsing with deep, clenching spasms of
pleasure. He channeled all his violent, frustrating emotion into the act
itself, riding her harder than he’d ever dared with another woman, his fingers
digging into her hips as he pulled her into his powerful thrusts, but he knew
how strong she was. Delicate and feminine and beautiful, but tough enough to
take what he gave her.

She came again, her back arched with feminine grace as
she convulsed around him in strong, clenching pulls, her damp hair spread out
across the floor like a dark spill of liquid. Before she’d even caught her
breath, Kierland had pulled out, turned her over and driven back into those
hot, drenched depths, his arm wrapped tight around her hips, his left hand
supporting his weight on the floor as he pumped his cock into her, going hard
and deep with each lunging, hammering thrust.

Bracing herself on her bent arms, she said, “You were
right. You do seem hungry tonight.”

“Always,” he panted, his breath coming in hard, sharp
bursts. “Always hungry for you.”

“But it’s more tonight,” she said in a soft voice,
lowering her face over his hand and pressing her lips to his bruised knuckles.
“You’re…on edge.”

“Sorry,” he gasped, painfully aware of the heaviness
in his gums that signaled the release of his fangs. He tried to gentle the
vicious, grinding rhythm of his body as he forged into hers, but he was too far
gone, the blistering, fiery burn of pleasure melting him down.

“I’m not complaining. Just…curious.”

Heat climbed up his chest, burning in his throat as he
said, “The dark.”

“Dark?”

“Being so long in the darkness,” he muttered, curving
himself over her, his lips moving against the tender skin beneath her ear as he
spoke. “It affects the beast. Affects my control. Don’t wanna scare you.”

“You won’t. Do whatever you need to, Kier. I’m not
afraid of you. I know you would never hurt me.”

Growling, he kept her impaled as he picked her up,
putting her over the side of the high bed. “Hold on,” he groaned, and then he
covered her, his chest to her back, his arms braced on either side of her. His
claws slipped free, ripping into the mattress and bedding, sending puffs of
white fluff floating up into flickering firelight.

MORGAN COULD FEEL HIM getting thicker, heavier inside
her, the breathtaking penetration stretching her impossibly wide. She wanted
nothing more than to open her mouth and say things, tell him things, that she
knew should never be said. The feeling stunned her, and she realized that this,
right here, was why she’d been trying to pick a fight with him earlier. She’d
known it was going to tear her open. After watching the way he’d fought for her
against Micah Sabin, she’d bloody well known that if he touched her tonight,
all her shields were going to come crashing down. She was wide-open to him,
liquid and soft and aching, desperate for everything he could give her. For
every hard, angry, beautiful part of him. She wanted to shower him with
tenderness. Kiss and hold and love him so badly the need was like an aching,
bleeding wound in her chest. She’d have done anything for him, gone anywhere
with him, if he’d have only given her the chance.

But she knew that future wasn’t being placed on the
table. Knew he viewed their time together as a means to an end, and so she bit
her lip, choking back the words she wanted to tell him. Words that would lay
her soul bare, giving him the power to crush and destroy her.

“Too much of the wolf,” he growled, his body fever hot
and slick with sweat as he pinned her against the bed with hard, hammering
thrusts that jerked breathless cries from her throat. “Damn it, Morgan. I don’t
wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she gasped, the tears stinging her eyes
born from emotion, rather than pain. “I love you like this, Kier. It’s
okay…stop worrying.”