Untamed (16 page)

“I didn’t spend an enormous amount of time with my mother. Child Services removed me from the home when I was just two or three. She tried to get herself clean now and then, and I would go back into her custody briefly, but it never lasted long,” she said with a shrug. “The drugs had a bigger hold on her than anything. She knew things too. She could tell me things about the different families that I’d been staying with, but I’m not exactly sure what her psychic ability was, or how she received her information. I don’t think it was through pictures like it is for me, but the sad truth is that I just don’t know.”

She glanced at him briefly over her shoulder. “I was only eight when she died from a drug overdose, and the only thing I’m certain of is that she was too weak to handle everything that had been thrust upon her, and my
father
, whoever he is, wasn’t around to pick up the pieces,” she said in a voice edged in bitterness.

Unable to keep his distance, William rose from the couch and moved around the other side of the coffee table to stand beside her. They stood there for a moment, side by side in front of the roaring fire, neither saying a word.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t even know where to begin, and since he thought that nothing he could possibly say would be right, he simply reached over, linked his arm around her waist, and pulled her into the shelter of his body. To his great delight, she buried her face in his shirt with a sigh and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry, Layla,” he whispered against her hair as he rocked her slowly. “It sounds like your mother struggled with her own psychic ability long before she met your father. As for Raife and Tati’s mother, I can’t imagine the grief she suffered after losing her mate so violently.” He leaned back so she could look him in the eye, and the pained expression on her face made his throat tighten. “I am Amoveo,” he said gruffly. “But if I lost you, there would be no measure of time long enough to heal, and death would be a welcome relief.”

“What if I can’t handle it?” Layla’s large green eyes searched his as they flickered and shifted to the glittering eyes of her clan. “I’m only a hybrid.”

“Layla.” William took her face in his hands as his eyes shifted to their clan form. “You are exactly what you are supposed to be,” he murmured. “You… are perfect.”

The heat in the room thickened as their energy waves mingled, and William fleetingly wondered if the roaring fire had anything to do with it.

Not likely.

Looking down at that flawlessly beautiful face, he was held captive by the assault of his own emotions. Terrified for her safety, saddened by her lost childhood, incensed that someone was intent on hurting her, and most terrifying of all… he was irrevocably in love with her.

Cradling her face in his hands, lost in the seemingly limitless depths of her eyes, he wrestled with his desire to claim her, but when she wiggled that tight little body up against him, and those delicious pink lips curled into a wickedly inviting smile… the last shred of William’s restraint shattered.

He captured her mouth with his on a curse or a prayer—he wasn’t sure which. Pleasure flooded him as Layla opened her soft lips and stroked her tongue seductively along his. He angled her head and delved deeper, savoring the wild, sweet taste, and doubted he would ever get enough of her.

Layla responded eagerly and moaned as she wrapped her arms tighter around him, untucked his shirt, and slipped her delicate hands beneath the waistband of his jeans. When those devilish little fingers slid along the skin at the top of his ass, sizzling streaks of pleasure shot straight to his crotch. A growl rumbled deep in his throat amid the explosion of lust, and he knew he couldn’t wait another minute to have more of that ivory skin pressed against his.

He grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, and in one swift movement, whipped it over her head, revealing the most immaculate bare breasts he’d laid eyes on. No bra. He couldn’t have stopped the look of surprise on his face if he’d wanted to. His startled gaze met her smile—her desired effect had been achieved.

When they got back to the house, she’d changed into her favorite, ratty old sweatshirt and jeans… but apparently, nothing else.
Minx.

She looked at him seductively through heavy-lidded eyes as she unsnapped the fly of her jeans and wiggled those slim hips. The jeans gratefully fell to the floor, revealing the sexiest legs he’d ever seen. William swallowed hard and let his heated gaze travel back up her gorgeous form.

The fading light of the fire flickered over her naked body, and it was all he could do to keep from licking his lips. Their connected energy signatures thrummed through the room in thick, pulsing waves. His fingers itched to touch her again, but he knew she wanted to retain control, and for the first time in his life, he was happy to let someone else take the wheel.

Layla inched her gloriously nude body closer to his and released the buttons on his shirt one at a time. “Like what you see?” she asked through heavy breaths without taking her gaze from his. “I know I do.”

Layla undid the last button, pushed the shirt off his shoulders, and he barely noticed when it fell to the floor. She ran her hands tantalizingly over the muscles of his chest and flicked his nipple with her tongue as her pert breasts scraped along his hypersensitive skin. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his side, and a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as she stood on her tiptoes and rasped her tongue along the scar on his chest. “You taste like snow,” she whispered against his heated flesh.

William’s eyes fluttered closed as he allowed himself to experience the exquisite effect of her touch. He shuddered with pleasure as her nimble fingers wandered along his rib cage, and she ran her nails down his sides. He was hard as a rock—everywhere—and if she kept this up, he might just lose control, and this whole thing would be over before it even got going.

Not
yet, counselor
. That sexy voice floated into his mind with the same seductive caress that her fingers gave to his flesh.
We’re just getting started.

William opened his eyes to find Layla smiling at him—she looked like the cat that ate the canary. He arched one eyebrow and reached for her, but she stepped back, shook her head, and wagged her finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah,” she scolded like a teacher from his dirtiest fantasies.

Layla placed both hands on his chest, pushed gently, and urged him backward. Like any man who didn’t have enough blood pumping into his brain, he did the only thing he could do—exactly what she wanted.

His gaze slid over every visible inch of that fair freckled skin as he backed up, taking in the sight of those tight breasts, the tantalizing dip of her waist, the subtle curve of her hips, but she kept her glowing eyes fixed on his face. Layla urged him back until his legs hit the edge of the oversized chair, and her lithe, supple body brushed against him, a teasing whisper of what was to come.

Gazes locked, her tongued darted out and moistened her lower lip. Layla released the buckle of his belt, pulled it like a whip from the loops of his jeans, and tossed it across the room. William’s pulse thrummed rapidly, and sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled for restraint. All he wanted to do was throw her on the floor and bury himself deep inside her.

Not
yet.

She unzipped the fly of his jeans, reached inside, and slipped her warm hand around to cup his ass. William groaned loudly as she used the other to curl her nimble fingers around the hot length of his engorged cock and started to stroke. He threw his head back and cursed as she ran her hand up and down in slow, tormenting caresses, and brushed her thumb over the swollen tip. She squeezed his ass, grazed his nipple with her teeth, and then soothed the tiny hurt with her wicked tongue.

Just as William thought he was going to lose control and come, Layla released him from her grasp, and those talented hands wandered back up to the unyielding planes of his chest. Lust clawed at him insistently as he grappled with the animal need to claim her, and just when he thought he couldn’t bear it for one more second, Layla whispered two words that severed his resolve.

“Fuck me.”

***

Carnal desire was all that Layla could feel as the blinding pull of lust fogged her brain. The touch of William’s flesh against hers was mouthwateringly erotic, and stroking the weight of him in the palm of her hand made her wet and wanting. Yet any control she thought she had faltered when the moon-glow eyes of his clan zeroed in on her as soon as she uttered those two tiny words.
Fuck
me.

Fire flashed hard and fast up her spine. The juncture between her legs tingled and pulsed. She shoved at the rock hard muscles of his shoulders, pushing him into the oversized chair as he grasped her hips and pulled her down with him. Frantic to have him inside her, needing him to satisfy the throbbing ache between her legs, she straddled him, positioned the head of his enormous erection against her slick folds, and threaded her fingers through the long strands of his hair.

Eyes locked, she hovered there for a moment as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, and she savored the delicious torture of waiting just one… more… second.

Painstakingly slowly, Layla captured his warm, firm mouth with hers. She sank onto his rock hard shaft inch by agonizing inch until she had him buried deep inside of her tight, wet channel. The breath rushed from their lungs in unison as he filled her and stretched her farther than she thought possible. They stayed there for a moment, locked together in the most intimate way, as her body adjusted to the sheer size of him.

Firefly.
He whispered into her mind, which heightened the physical sensation in an enticing, erotic way.

Now this part of being Amoveo was something she could get used to.

William sat up, still buried in her, and feasted on one rosy nipple, sending searing and purely hedonistic pleasure—
everywhere
. Layla tangled her fingers in his hair, held his head to her bosom, and arched back as he suckled and nipped at her eagerly.

Then she began to move.

Knees braced against the sides of the chair, Layla rose and fell time and again, sliding her tight sheath up and down in agonizingly slow strokes. White hot friction sparked and raced through her sweat-covered body. As her pace increased, he filled her more completely than any man ever had.

Other men? Had there ever been any others? All she could remember was him. That fierce look in his eyes, the ones that reminded her of a moonlit sky, the hair that slipped through her fingers like silk, and the flawlessly formed body that would make the Viking Gods proud.

How could she ever think of another?

Damn
him.

William rained kisses over her collarbone and along the hollow of her throat as she continued to writhe and buck against him. He ran his hands up her back and down again. His eager mouth found hers and kissed her like he would never get enough. It was a frenzy, both of them tasting and touching as if this moment could disappear in a blink.

Passion edged with desperation created a potent combination. Savage desire built and coiled tightly inside, as the pleasure rushed through her veins at a brutal pace. Her breathing came in quick, panting gasps. She rode him furiously, chasing the rush of orgasmic gratification that was so frustratingly close. It was the orgasm she’d been chasing since the day he found her and started haunting her dreams.

William’s strong hands held onto her hips, anchoring her to him as he pumped into her, matching her frenzied rhythm. With one final stroke they cried out in unison and tumbled together over the precipice and into oblivion.

Layla collapsed, breathless and limp, on top of William’s equally spent body, but he was still locked tightly inside of her as the tiny aftershocks rocked and quivered their exhausted forms. She rested her head on his shoulder, and her eyes fluttered closed while his fingers brushed an achingly tender trail up and down her back. With their slick bodies nestled together in the most intimate of positions in the large, soft chair, she couldn’t help but notice every inch of exposed flesh where their bodies met.

She noticed something else as well.

Their energy signatures were more than just connected—the buzzing that had accompanied it before was no longer there. The connection was there to be sure, but somehow, it seemed smoother… almost seamless… as if she could no longer tell where his ended and hers began.

Panic bubbled up as Layla realized the consequences of what they’d just done. It was happening—the mating process, or whatever the hell they called it—it was happening. Without a word, she scrambled off William and pulled her sweatshirt and pants onto her quickly cooling body with record speed.

She knew William was watching her. He’d obviously sensed her panic and need to escape, but he didn’t have to have a bonded energy signature for that. A blind monkey could’ve picked up on her sudden desire to bolt.

Layla not only felt his eyes on her, but she sensed the change in
his
demeanor as well. That cold, calculated, arrogant bastard switch had been flipped again, and he was studying her like she was some defendant in one of his court cases.

“You can relax. We’re not officially mated yet,” he said in that irritatingly calm voice. The one that made her want to throttle him. She hated being told to
relax
, and it only served to piss her off. “We didn’t say the ceremonial bonding rites,” he continued nonchalantly.

William stood from the chair that she’d never be able to look at again without getting wet, adjusted himself, and zipped his fly as if they hadn’t just been fucking like a couple of horny teenagers. She’d barely registered that he never took off his pants entirely—not that it had slowed them down. She tried not to admire that smooth, beautiful skin, but the memories of lapping and nipping at his flesh would be emblazoned into her memory in living color.

Layla stoked the fire that had just about gone out in an effort to keep from drooling over him—again—but she couldn’t help it. She glanced over as he scooped up his shirt and shrugged it on and blushed when he caught her ogling him.