Blood Destiny (35 page)

He dropped his fingers to the front of her robe and gently brushed against her breasts, cupping the soft mounds in his hand. He took his time, exploring each breast languidly, first one and then the other, massaging with intimate authority.

"I would like to know your secrets, tiger-eyes. Will you share them with me?"

Jocelyn's head fell back, and she moaned softly.

He pushed the robe off of her shoulders and drew in a sharp breath as the gentle curves of her skin were exposed to his hungry gaze.

"Will you?" he repeated, his voice growing deep and demanding.

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"Wh...what would you like to know?" Her voice came out husky and slow, like that of a temptress, surprising even to her own ears. She didn't know where the sound had come from, but Nathaniel's response was instantaneous...his thick erection rising in his jeans...pressing against her stomach.

Nathaniel noticed her noticing him, and he made no effort to conceal his arousal, grinding his hips in a slow circle, pressing firmly against her.

She was wearing a midnight blue silk nightgown with a low, dipped back and thin spaghetti straps, one of the many garments Nathaniel had purchased for her on her first day in his home, and he wasted no time at all, lowering the straps from her shoulders, pushing them aside with his thumbs. The nightgown fell to her waist, caught beneath the loosely tied robe, both her shoulders and breasts exposed.

He groaned when her nipples came out of the silk, bending his head to blow hot air over the erect peaks, gently circling one then the other with his tongue. "I have been dying to know what you taste like, my love."

Jocelyn arched into him, reveling in the sensations. She couldn't help herself...and she didn't want to. Her breasts felt incredibly heavy, the tips beginning to tingle—the mounds beginning to ache. She moaned when he tugged at a nipple with his teeth, flicked the sensitive bud with his tongue, and then took the entire tip vigorously into his mouth. The sensual heat engulfed her like a fire as his hands cupped, his fingers massaged, and his mouth suckled.

Jocelyn clutched a fistful of beautiful blue-black hair, bringing Nathaniel even closer. His mouth was creating an 330

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inferno between her legs, jolts of electricity sizzling through her body...cresting at the apex between her thighs. He was turning her core into liquid heat as he feasted on her breasts like a ravenous, glorious animal.

"Nathaniel..." She whispered his name in a hoarse plea for...something...a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips.

His mouth tightened, even as his hands began to venture lower, slowly tracing her stomach and caressing her hips before reaching lower still...to lightly brush over the heat between her legs.

"And I would like to know what you feel like, angel." He cupped her feminine mound, pressed the heel of his hand tightly against her sex, and rubbed her in harsh, arousing circles. "Deep inside," he moaned.

She gasped, which only aroused him further. "I want to crawl so deep inside of you, Jocelyn," he growled, "that I touch your soul." His lips fastened over hers, his tongue probing her mouth as he tasted...commanded...explored.

"Will you let me, Jocelyn? Will you take me inside of you?"

Jocelyn was too caught up to speak. She felt a powerful surge of moisture flood her core, and a painful ache began to radiate inside of her womb as the rising waves of desire grew stronger with every sure stroke of his hand. Every soft pull of his lips. Every sensual swipe of his tongue.

She pushed against him: tempting him...needing him. She was drenched with wanting him, desperate to feel his total possession.

Nathaniel reached down to loosen the tie on her robe, and she shivered as a sudden drift of cool air caressed her skin.

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And then she pulled back and looked up into his hauntingly beautiful eyes. His thick crown of hair was falling forward in gentle waves, framing the masculine perfection of his face, and his shadowed pupils were shining with the reflection of moonlight. And there was something else in his gaze, something stark and primitive and wild being unleashed: a fierce animal hunger.

Jocelyn knew all of his gentleness—his soft caresses and lazy explorations—were for her. The lust in his eyes was impossible to ignore, the stark nature of his hunger, undeniable.

If it were simply up to him, he would take her with abandon. Brand her. Mark her. Claim her...with complete authority. The unyielding dominance of his species would demand absolute control.

Yet he lingered.

He held back. He reveled in the responses she gave him...the slow building of a raging fire...

When he finally met her gaze, his full lips were turned up in a smile, revealing perfect, glistening teeth, and his flawless skin positively glowed beneath the light in his eyes as he began to purr even louder...pressing his hard sex shamelessly against her.

And then she felt it: the gentle scraping of his fangs against her neck, the soft graze of two sharp edges moving lightly over her artery. He nibbled once, bit at her skin, and then he quickly pulled away...even as she relaxed into him.

"Another time, mea draga," he sighed, his voice sounding strained.

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Jocelyn nuzzled his chin, feeling deserted by the momentary lack of contact. She found herself kissing the hollow of his throat, her hands reaching up to unbutton his shirt. Her hips began to circle and grind into the hard length of him—the thick, throbbing erection pressed so tantalizingly against her.

"Mea draga?" she asked, groaning the words.

He shrugged out of his shirt, exposing a rock-hard chest with astonishing definition, and as her eyes dropped lower, her breath caught in her throat: the male had a sinfully gorgeous six-pack...row after row of flawless abdominal muscles rippling beneath baby-smooth skin on a hairless, flat stomach.

Jocelyn sighed as he slowly began to unbutton his jeans...unable to hide her satisfaction: The man was a gladiator. Her gladiator.

"My darling," he whispered, interpreting the phrase in her ear. And then he held her gaze for a fraction of a second...although it felt like an eternity. When he next took her mouth with his, she could taste the lust, the increasing intensity of his need.

His shaft jerked against her stomach. His hands reached down to cup her bottom. And he pulled her tightly against him.

Jocelyn melted into his hard frame, lifting her leg to wrap it around his powerful thigh. She offered up her body. She strained and arched into him. She rubbed the uncomfortable heat between her legs over his hamstring, shamelessly riding his thigh as he stroked and explored her body.

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His breath grew heavy then, coming in short gasps as his heart began to pound against his chest, and a lusty groan of pleasure escaped his throat. He lifted his leg, pressing the heavy weight of it back against her core, rotating in leisurely, circular motions...encouraging her slow ride.

He kissed her with far more demand, while nipping at her bottom lip and swirling his tongue around hers. He tasted every part of her mouth with a growing, insistent hunger...a harsh, commanding lust.

With one hand still grasping her waist, he reached down to remove his jeans, freeing the rigid length from his pants.

Jocelyn caught her breath at the sight of his enormous arousal, now standing at full attention. He was pressed painfully against her belly, his sex, positively magnificent...smooth as silk yet hard as steel...an erotic promise of ecstasy just waiting to be thrust into her welcoming body.

Nathaniel removed her open robe and tugged at the silk of her nightgown. "Take these off." His voice was husky with need.

Jocelyn wiggled out of the gown and stood before him clad in nothing more than a pair of thin silk panties. His lustful gaze revealed his appreciation, the growl that followed causing her sex to throb with rising need.

"You are so...incredible, Jocelyn."

He went to his knees then, his hands tracing her slender waist, following the supple curves of her hips, outlining her flat stomach, until finally, he hooked his thumbs over the thin strings of her panties and gently tugged at the insignificant 334

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piece of cloth. His head dropped forward, and he let out a deep, hungry sigh, his shoulders slightly trembling....

And then he clutched her bottom, pulled her hips forward, spread her legs with his hands...and drank. With both reverence and abandon, he devoured her core as she stood helplessly above him.

Jocelyn cried out with pleasure as his tongue explored her warmth: licking...tasting...stabbing deep inside of her. Her legs grew weak and her body began to shudder. She held onto his thick mane of hair as an anchor, struggling not to shatter into a million pieces as she called out his name.

Every nerve ending came alive in response to the urgency of his mouth—the expert exploration of his tongue, the deep, throaty growls he released as he swallowed her essence. Her head thrashed from side to side and she tried to push him away. "Nathaniel, I can't take it! It's too much." Her voice was a husky plea, replete with pleasure and desire.

Nathaniel didn't budge.

His mouth pressed even harder into her core, his tongue working in a frenzied tutorial of urgency. He teased her, took possession of her, drove her wild with a fevered passion, all the while his hands continuing to gently massage her bottom.

"Your taste..." He groaned. "Dear gods...you taste so...good. I could never get enough."

The groan that escaped his lips was ravenous...hoarse...and dripping with passion. And each time he moaned, her body responded by giving him more of what he loved—with a powerful rush of liquid heat that he then lapped up like a starving animal.

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"You're killing me," she whimpered.

His hands felt like hot flames licking across her skin, filling her core with fire, until she was utterly helpless with need.

She tried to twist out of his grip...to back-pedal toward the bed...to pull his head away with her hands, but he only clutched her tighter, holding her helpless against his invasion as his tongue dove deeper.

Jocelyn arched her back and cried out in desperation as her body clenched like a drum, winding tighter and tighter with pleasure until it threatened to explode. Her head fell back as she continued to squirm and writhe beneath his merciless assault, unable to hold on much longer.

She caught at his shoulders, pulling him upward...needing him inside of her so desperately she thought she might die if he didn't take her now.

"I want you," she pleaded, "please...stop...I can't take it."

His tongue dipped and swirled, lapping up the center of her heat, circling the hard bud at the tip until her body trembled with ecstasy. "Of course you can take it," he purred, "as long as I wish to give it to you." The sound of his voice, the sexy blend of power, lust, and masculinity instantly threatened to throw her over the edge.

"Stop," she pleaded once again. "It's too much..."

"Come for me, Jocelyn," he urged, his voice thick with male satisfaction. "I want to watch you lose control. Let go for me...and I'll give you what you need."

Jocelyn didn't know why she was fighting so hard....

Maybe it was the desire to hold onto her last vestige of control—in a life that had been so completely turned upside 336

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down in only a matter of days. Or maybe it was the need to feel like she still had the power to resist him—at least in the bedroom—but whatever it was, he was as determined to break it as she was to keep it: he wanted her total submission, and he would accept nothing less.

To her utter shock and amazement, she began to sob with the pleasure and intensity of what he was doing to her, tears of ecstasy streaming out of her eyes.

"Oh God," she whimpered, "you're making me cry. Please, Nathaniel...I need you."

"Tell me what you need, baby." It was a sultry command.

"You," she uttered helplessly, "inside of me..."

Her hips were bucking wildly now against him, her body threatening to shatter completely out of control.

"That's it, baby," he purred. "Let go...give yourself to me, tiger-eyes. Come for me. Let yourself go, so I can take you the way you need me to."

He inserted a finger then, deep into her hot, wet sheath, and began to gently knead the tight, soft folds, drawing liquid heat from her like a sieve.

"Mmm...baby...you are so wet for me."

A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt him insert a second finger, and then a third: stretching her, caressing her, stabbing deep in an erotic effort to push her over the edge.

Jocelyn couldn't take another second.

She fractured into a thousand pieces, her body trembling in violent waves of pleasure as the powerful orgasm shook her. She cried out, fisting her hands in his hair, tears streaming down her face at the voracity of her release. She 337

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felt utterly and completely exposed...vulnerable...entirely open to his command. And she knew that was what he had wanted all along.

"My God, you are sexy when you come, baby."

He stood up then. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and laid her back on the bed. He grasped her thighs with his strong, firm hands and knelt between her legs, gently easing them apart. And then he took the length of his rigid, engorged sex into his hand and pressed the head against her core.

His erection felt enormous against her entrance—so much so that she wondered if she would be able to take all of him inside her. But she wanted him. All of him. Every hard, throbbing inch.

"Is this what you need, baby?" he groaned, his voice rough with desire.

Jocelyn didn't answer. She couldn't.