Coyote's Mate (27 page)

“I need,” she cried out hoarsely, loosening his hair to bring her fingers to her other nipple, to increase the friction and the torturous sensations. “Del-Rey. I need.”

“Anya.” He kissed her thigh, ran his tongue over the flesh there before returning to the liquid center of her body. “Sweet and hot. My Anya. My coya.”

She arched as his lips covered her clit again, this time with the heated pressure she knew would send her flying into the oblivion she had once fought against. Now she raced toward it.

Increasing the pressure on her nipples, she felt her breath catch as he sucked the bud into his mouth and drew on it seductively, as his tongue flickered over, around, heating it, spilling the mating heat on it, and then sending her screaming into orgasm.

She felt her upper body jerk upright. It wasn’t controllable. Her hands flew out, reaching for him, a thin, ragged wail leaving her body as pleasure exploded through her in a rush of sizzling energy.

And he caught her. His hands gripped hers, his gaze caught hers, as his lips held on to her pulsing clit and his tongue wrung every harsh explosion of sensation from her body.

She could hear his growls. She could feel them. She strained into his lips, her head tilting back as the world rushed around her in a dizzying display of color that left her shuddering in the aftermath.

Del-Rey eased her back to the bed, his hands stroking over her waist, her stomach and thighs, easing the violent shudders of her body as he slowly, regretfully released the swollen, throbbing little button of her clit.

He could taste her release on his tongue. Sugar and fire. Earth and air. He licked his lips as he pressed a kiss to her hip, then nipped the sweat-dampened flesh with his teeth.

He couldn’t wait. His head was filled with the taste of her, with the scent of her. It called to him, teased him, tempted him.

Moving over her, he gripped the base of his throbbing cock with one hand. He’d spilled the slick pre-cum to the bed as she exploded beneath him. He was amazed he hadn’t shot every ounce of cum from his body as she screamed his name.

“I’m burning,” she moaned, her head twisting on the sheets as she stared up at him, panting for breath, perspiration dampening her forehead, her hair.

Her eyes were slumberous, brilliant in her flushed face as the mass of red gold curls cascaded around her.

“I’ll ease you,” he promised.

He would ease them both. The hunger was clawing at him now, brilliant red-hot sparks of need exploding up his spine, traveling to his tortured balls as he pressed her legs farther apart and moved to her.

He prayed for control. His erection was thicker than she would have known with a human lover.

Coyote and Wolf males were cursed not just with the knot that would lock them inside their mates, but also with a heavier, thicker shaft. As though they wouldn’t frighten their mates enough to begin with.

“Anya. Look at me, baby. Look at me.”

Her eyes opened again, brilliant, dark within her heat-flushed face.

“We’ll go easy, I swear it,” he groaned, allowing the head of his cock to press against the tender opening.

His teeth locked together as the first pulse of heated fluid erupted from the tip. Rich with the mating hormone, it pulsed inside her even as he fought to hold it back.

“Oh God, that feels so good.” She arched closer, pressing him deeper. “Like it’s burning me, easing me, making me crazy for you.” Her gaze sharpened. “I don’t like crazy, Del-Rey. I like control. You know I like control.”

He did. He knew this.

He cupped her cheek with one hand, feeling his chest clench in agony. “I know, little love. You want control.”

There was no control here, for either of them. But he remembered that now. He should have remembered eight months ago. His Anya was always composed. Even with that brilliant red gold hair and the fiery temper that could light her eyes, she had always maintained control. And there was no control amid the mating heat.

Her breath hitched as another pulse of fluid filled her and a sound, nearly a sob, escaped her throat at the feel of it.

She shuddered beneath him as her hands gripped his biceps, her nails digging into his flesh as he eased farther inside her, his teeth gritting at the too tight grip of her silken flesh.

“Oh. Oh, Del-Rey.” She lifted to him, her lashes lowering as he pressed deeper and a growl tore from his throat.

He felt every ripple, every convulsive tightening of her pussy around the crown of his cock. It was like sinking into pure ecstasy the pleasure was so violent.

The pulsing pre-cum came faster now; each spurt was another thread broken on the thin expanse of his control. His patience was wearing; the need to drive into her was eroding his every sense.

“Anya.” He laid his head against her shoulder, continuing to work himself inside her, his teeth clenching into the sheets rather than her tender shoulder as his instincts demanded.

Slow and easy. He repeated the refrain inside his head. Control. Patience. No taking. He couldn’t take this time.

He jerked, his head lifting as a snarl of furious hunger exploded inside him. His hips jerked, driving his cock inside her deeper.

It was rapture. It was incredible. It was pleasure that tortured his dreams and his waking hours with the same driving force. The memory of this. Of Anya, slick and tight, clenched around him like a milking fist.

“Yes. Oh yes.” Her hips jerked to him. “More. More now.”

His head lifted as he fought to breathe, staring into her enraptured expression as her nails bit into his arms. Her neck arched, her hips rolled beneath him, working him in nearly to the base of his cock.

He couldn’t maintain this, he knew he couldn’t.

“Look at me, Anya,” he snarled. “Open your eyes.”

If she didn’t open her eyes, he would never hold on to the control he needed. He had to see her.

He had to remind himself he was a man, not an animal. He was loving his coya, his other half.

His woman.

He had sworn if he ever had the chance to touch her again, he would hold on to his control. He would show her the pleasure, not the fear.

“Look at me, Anya,” he growled again. “See me, damn you. Hold on to me, and there will be no fear. I swear. No more fear.”

CHAPTER 15

Anya’s eyes opened, dazed, almost unseeing as she tried to focus on Del-Rey.

She was lost in the sensations whipping through her now. The feel of him, huge, hard, sinking into her as the heavy pulses of pre-cum continued to spurt inside her.

It would, until he was fully seated, she knew. And then the pleasure would only burn brighter.

This was the part that had begun the nightmare the first time. This raging need, the way she clenched around the thick length of his cock, her hips moving frantically, desperate for more.

But this time, he was facing her. When he had taken her before, he had turned her to her stomach and lifted her hips, giving her nothing to hold on to. She’d had no sense of warmth, no sense of the man taking her as she did now.

“Anya.” His breathing was ragged, his broad chest moving with rough breaths as sweat eased down the side of his face. “I can’t—”

He shook his head, his eyes clenching before they opened once more and focused on hers.

His jaw clenched as his hips jerked, driving that last inch of his heavy erection in to the hilt.

Anya felt her breath ease from her body for precious seconds. She was filled, overfilled. She was burning and so desperate for more that she wondered if she would survive it this time.

Swallowing tightly, she fought to stare into his eyes. As black as midnight with the faintest hint of blue. As though the color hid within the darkness, a shadow of light to hold her to him.

“Ah hell.” One hand clenched her hip, the over buried in her hair as he braced his elbow at her shoulder. “I can’t.” He swallowed tightly. “I can’t hold back, baby.”

“Don’t hold back,” she panted. “Just hold on to me.” Her voice broke. “Hold on to me, Del-Rey.

Don’t let me get lost.”

His eyes seemed to widen then his expression twisted as lust transformed his features and he began to move. Each heavy thrust pierced her deeper than just the clenching depths of her vagina. Sensation tore through her with excruciating pleasure/ pain. It stroked along once hidden nerve endings, reached to the depths of her and burned into her soul.

She held on to Del-Rey. She stared up at him, and felt the spinning whirlwind whipping inside her latch onto her. Hunger. An agony of need so deep, so desperate she couldn’t fight it any longer. Her hips lifted and her legs wrapped around his hips as she met each thrust, each stroke with a broken cry.

She was filled with midnight colors as she stared into his eyes and held on to him. Thick, dark blond lashes, so thick she would be jealous later. She felt the muscles of his biceps beneath her fingers as she dug into them, clenching at him as he drove into her, his hips thrusting heavily now, harder, faster as she felt the ever narrowing spirals of pleasure whipping through her.

“Yes.” His voice was part animal, part man. “Fuck me, Anya. Take me, baby. All of me. Take all of me.”

She knew what was coming. She felt her own orgasm building inside her, and she knew what it would do to her, what it would do to him.

In those years that her heart had settled on this Breed, she had never expected this. Scientists and techs used Breeds as sex toys, often having their favorites, calling them their pets, and this had never happened then. There were no animalistic results to those sexual adventures.

But Anya knew there would be now. She knew where the whirlwind would throw them, and she fought to hold back. Not yet. She didn’t want it to happen yet. She didn’t want the fear, she didn’t want that total loss of self that came with it.

“I have you.” His voice brushed over her senses. “Hold on to me, Anya. I have you. Always.”

He drove inside her, fast, furious, shafting inside her with a power and a pleasure that took that control, took that last edge of strength and tore it from her grasp.

She heard her own screams of release. Breathless, pleading, an agony of pleasure ripping through her as she felt the first convulsive eruption tear over her senses.

Then, she felt his release. She felt the swelling, the burning stretch of muscle and tissue, the violent throb of heavy veins pounding into nerve endings that screamed from the additional intensity. She heard his shout, then a sound that was part snarl, part howl as his head lowered and his teeth pierced her shoulder.

It wasn’t pain. It was too intense to be pleasure.

Anya was locked in a world of sensation so brutal she screamed out his name as she felt the first furious blast of semen erupting into her already too sensitive sex, and the additional width, locking him into the clenching muscles of her pussy, set off a harder, stronger eruption that seemed to center in her womb.

She was coming hard, each detonation jerking her muscles, tightening them until she cried out in fear and in wonder. Because she wasn’t lost. She could feel Del-Rey, his growls at her shoulder, his shoulders beneath her clawing nails, his thighs powerful and flexing as her legs wrapped around them.

She wasn’t lost without him, she was lost within him, holding tight as flames raged over her, pleasure tore through her, and for the first time in eight months a sense of completion overcame her.

How long it lasted, she didn’t know. They shuddered together, jerking and moaning, each pulse of his release triggering another smaller explosion inside her as the mating knot throbbed hard against sensitive nerve endings and sent another current of electrical pleasure sizzling through her.

She was aware of his teeth buried in her flesh, but this time, there was no pain. There was the feel of his tongue touching the wound as he gently extracted the curved canines and licked over the mark with sensual enjoyment. The feel of his hands, one buried in her hair, one holding her hip with what she was certain was bruising force.

Then the knot pulsed again and she shuddered, a weak cry leaving her lips as another detonation of release gripped her, spasmed through her.

It was too much pleasure. Too much sensation. She was crying. She could feel the tears falling from her eyes even as she buried her face in his shoulder and bit him back.

She would be shocked later, she promised herself as she felt her teeth clench the hard muscle of his shoulder. Later, she would debate the wisdom of the action. For now, she heard his shocked exclamation, felt his hips jerk against her, the swelling inside her throb and semen pulse. Anya moaned low and ragged as the taste of male flesh filled her mouth and Del-Rey seemed to fill her very soul.

Nothing should be this good, this torrential, this overwhelming. No pleasure this intense and all-consuming could survive. But if it didn’t, then Anya feared that this time, if she lost it, she could not hold on to her own sanity.

Del-Rey held on to her. It was all she had asked of him. To hold on to her, not to let her go. He held her against his chest until the swelling eased and he was able to withdraw from her. A grimace of surging pleasure twisted his expression at the feel of her still-snug grip against the overly sensitive flesh of his cock. Another small ripple of sensation fluttered through her muscles before she relaxed against him again, curling against his chest as he collapsed beside her and wrapped his arms around her.

This was what he had craved all those months ago.

“Are you okay?” He tried to keep his voice low, keep the growl out of it. There was no way to hold back the satisfaction that filled him though.

For the first time in eight months he wasn’t tortured with the need. He was semi-aroused, but that desperate throb of agony was no longer present.

“Hmm,” she mumbled against his chest.

He almost grinned at the grumpy, slumberous little sound.

“That’s not an answer, Mate,” he told her, keeping his voice low as amusement threaded through it. “Should I warn Wolfe that we need to call another tribunal?” A second later a sharp pinch to his waist had him chuckling.