Hunter's Need (12 page)

He wasn’t sorry. Not at all. Not as he sank his aching cock inside her, keeping that fucking shirt fisted in his hand, out of the way so he could watch as he—
finally
—took Analise Morell. Even when she twisted and tensed against him, even when she whimpered softly and tensed up, her body fighting his invasion. Even when he scented her tears. He wasn’t sorry—

She whimpered his name, shuddered and arched her back, trying to twist away from his possession until he caught her in his arms and spun, turning from the counter and going to his knees. He took her with him, forced her thighs wide and braced his hands on her hips as he tunneled deep, forcing his way past the resistance of her virgin pussy, deep, deep, until he’d seated his entire length inside her.

She was crying when he was done, shaking, her soft, slender body undulating, fighting to accept his possession, fighting to reject it. Duke sucked in huge gulps of air, waging his own battle—the battle to ride her, hard and fast, to sate that hunger that had burned within him for far too long—and the need to stroke, sooth and ease.

Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to her spine. Felt something—something that disturbed him enough that it shook some of the lust from his brain. Ana lay with her torso against the floor, whimpering and shaking, completely distracted and unaware as he caught the hem of her shirt and pushed it up. Baring her lower back, and the numerous long, thin scars that marred her flesh.

Fury leaped inside him, but he thrashed it down.
Not now—
gritting his teeth, he battled the anger back and let the shirt fall back into place. Dipping his head, he trailed his lips over her back, feeling one scar, then another, another.

She knelt before him, unaware. Ana moaned raggedly and rolled her hips. It was too much—

Duke swore and gripped her hips, held her steady as he started to ride her. Slow. He battled the beast inside and won, taking her slow and easy, taking the time to tease and caress, kissing her hidden scars, reaching around and under her, petting the slick wet flesh that stretched so tight around him, then seeking out her clit and stroking it. She stiffened and Duke’s eyes damned near crossed as her pussy convulsed around him.

“Like that?” he rasped, tugging on the hard bud. She wailed out his name and he grinned, hot, savage satisfaction jolting through him.

She shoved her ass back against him and then rocked forward, rubbing against his fingers. He reached down and caught her wrist, guiding her hand between her thighs. She tensed and the scent of her body changed, spiked—sharp with embarrassment, hot with need. “Touch yourself, Ana.”

She whimpered but did just that. Duke splayed his hands across her hips and held her steady. “I’m done waiting now,” he rasped.

And he was—before another second passed, he was riding her hard, shafting her deep. She screamed, a sound caught between pleasure and pain, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Even after she came, clenching down around him like a silken fist, he didn’t stop. She convulsed and twisted and shuddered underneath him and still, he didn’t slow. Hunger burned inside him, the deep ache of hunger suppressed for so long that finally yielding to it was almost as painful as refusing it.

She wilted underneath him, sagging to the floor. Duke rumbled out her name and moved with her, sprawling atop her body, bracing one elbow on the ground beside her and grasping her thigh with his other, holding her open. Her scent surrounded him, sank into his pores, flooded him. The low, husky moans echoed through his head and each time he drove his dick into her pussy, she clenched around him.

She came again, vising down around him, milking him, clenching . . . squeezing . . . he roared, the animal inside him tearing free just long enough to make him bend his head, long enough to have him setting his teeth against her shoulder, biting her through her shirt—marking her.

Power flared, danced along his spine, threatened to emerge. Growling, he bit down harder and came, came so fucking hard, his body gave out on him and he collapsed on top of her, crushing her slender body into the hard, unyielding floor.

 

 

 

 

“I
’VE hurt you.” He should say he was sorry, but Duke knew he couldn’t do it, not without lying to her. He couldn’t have this, couldn’t be the first man to touch her, without bringing the pain. He couldn’t say he was sorry and as he pulled away from her and sat up, staring down at her still-quivering body, all he could feel was a gut-deep sense of satisfaction.

Sighing, he reached out and traced her shoulder, eying the torn cloth and through it, the indentations of his teeth, checking for bruising. The skin wasn’t broken and it didn’t look like she was going to bruise, but for some seriously strange reason, he wasn’t happy about that. He wanted to see his mark on her. Wanted it so bad he could taste it.

Taste
her
.

Yeah, that primitive instinct to mark her wasn’t at all helped by the fact that he could still taste her, still feel her. It didn’t help that her scent covered him. Didn’t help that he could feel each breath that shuddered out of her lungs as clearly as he could feel his own chest rise and fall.

“Ana.”

She stirred, and through the curtain of her hair, he caught a glimpse of her eyes, but she didn’t respond. All she did was sigh and squirm against the floor. Goosebumps broke out along her flesh and he blew out a breath. Working his arms underneath her, he brought her against his chest and rose, striding out of the kitchen and down the hall. He hadn’t exactly taken a tour earlier, but the apartment wasn’t big. Finding her bedroom took all of twenty seconds.

The room was small, the bed a double that was barely going to be big enough for the two of them. He shifted and managed to flip the top blanket down, placing her inside the bed and then sliding in alongside her. She stiffened, her lashes lifting to stare up at him, bemused. He nuzzled her neck, licked her. “You’re trying to fall asleep on me.”

She slicked her tongue across her lips. “Sorry.”

But already her lashes were drooping. Before she could drift back into sleep, he laid a hand on her belly. “Ana.”

She blinked, gave him the wide-eyed stare of a woman struggling to remain awake.

“I hurt you.” Watching her face, he grazed his fingertips across the curls between her thighs.

Confusion flickered in the dark purple of her eyes. Then she blushed. “I’m fine.”

She averted her head but Duke caught her chin and made her look at him. The blush on her cheeks deepened, crept down her neck, down to the tops of her breasts. He tore his gaze away from her chest—if he kept watching to see just how low that adorable blush would go, he’d be a slobbering maniac in a matter of seconds.

No—he needed to talk for a few seconds. Talk, not fuck her again. “Why, Ana?”

The purple of her eyes flashed jewel-bright and she squirmed to the left, as though she’d roll away from him. He took care of that problem by rolling on top of her. The soft cushion of her belly cradled his cock and instinctively, he rocked against her once.

He wanted to ask all of those questions, wanted an answer to all. But all he could manage was, “Why?”

“Does it matter?”

He buried his face in the curve of her neck and kissed her. “It matters—or I wouldn’t ask.”
Please don’t let this be some sort of apology—

Because, hell, if it was, Duke was pretty fucking sure he was going to owe
her
. And that he’d need to get his head examined. It had been worth it—the five years of sexual frustration, all those nights he spent dreaming about her, the days he’d spent getting tortured, it had all been worth it for this moment, to feel her lying underneath him, to hear her whimper his name as he brought her to climax and to sink his cock into that virgin pussy and know that he was the first. The only.

“Why, Ana?”

She tucked her chin against her chest, closing her eyes. “You ask impossible questions.”

“No. I asked a simple one . . . why? Because of what happened?”

Her eyes flew wide and she flinched. Working her hands between them, she shoved against his chest and snapped, “Get the hell off of me.”

“No.” He dipped his head and nipped her lip, shuddering as he caught just a little more of her taste. “Is that why?”

She lay beneath him, stiff and rigid, unyielding even when he shifted lower and caught one pink nipple in his mouth. “I’m not a whore,” she whispered, her voice breaking in the middle.

“No. I never thought you were.” He licked her again, tracing the distended peak with his tongue before resting his chin between her breasts and staring up at her. “Why would you say that?”

“If I’m doing this as some way of making amends, then this was some kind of payment—and that would make me a whore.” She closed her eyes, turned her head. Her hands, clenched into small fists, separated them.

Duke just couldn’t have that. He needed to feel her. All of her. Catching her wrists in his hands, he brought them up by her head. Staring down into her shuttered eyes, he realized he’d hurt her—again. But this time, he was sorry. Sorry enough that it knotted his gut and left a bad taste in his mouth. Dipping his head, he rubbed his cheek against hers.

“Sorry, princess.” He murmured the words against her lips and used his hands to stroke her rigid body until she started to relax, until her body welcomed his again.

Rising up on his elbows, he stared down at her. His gaze lingered on her mouth, that pretty pink bow. Unable to resist, he traced her lips with his finger. She shivered and her eyes darkened.

Duke gritted his teeth as her response sent another flare of heat coursing through him.
Focus. You were talking, remember
?

Yeah, he remembered. But he’d always viewed talking as a waste of time.

Jerking his attention back on track, he studied her face. “So it’s not because of that. But why, Ana? You went all this time . . . why me? Why now?”

She blushed and looked away.

Catching her chin, he guided her face back to his. Quietly, he said, “If it didn’t matter to me, I wouldn’t ask.”

She was quiet, quiet for so long, he didn’t think she was going to give him the answer he needed. But then finally, she sighed. Her gaze fell away from his, self-conscious and nervous. “Why do you think?”

“Because you want me . . . do you want like I want, Ana?” he whispered against her lips. He kissed her, taking it deep even as common sense whispered he should stop. She didn’t need this again, even if he was craving her. “Crave like I crave . . . need like I need?”

“You don’t need me.”

“You’re wrong.” He settled his hips against hers, nudged the slick wet heat with the head of his cock. “I need like you couldn’t even begin to imagine . . . wrap your legs around me.”

Her lashes lifted. She stared into his eyes and Duke wondered if she’d tell him no. If she did, he’d stop. He could—even though he needed her like he needed air, he could stop. But all she did was wiggle beneath him, her movements slow, awkward in a way that wrenched his heart. Then she wrapped her legs around his hips, and he shuddered as the head of his cock rubbed against her slick folds.

He sank inside her, taking it slowly this time, giving her one slight inch at a time, watching her face and easing back any time he glimpsed pain in her gaze. “Ana . . . ” He closed his eyes and growled her name as she arched up.

He slid deeper.

She cried out and he swore, stiffened above her. Eyes flying open, he stared at her face. “Am I hurting you?”

She shuddered, whimpered. “Yes . . . ” But then she tightened her thighs around his hips. “Please don’t stop.”

Stop—hell, no, he wouldn’t stop. Not when she moved against him like that, not when she slid her hands up his chest and tangled her fingers in his hair. Not when she sobbed out his name and tugged his face down to hers, pressing her mouth to his and moaning as he kissed her.

Stop—no, he couldn’t stop with her.

She’d gotten under his skin, settled there years earlier until she was a part of him, every bit as much a part of him as the beast that lurked just under the surface. Every bit as much a part of him as the color of his eyes or his hair. Tangled up inside him, confusing the hell out of him as he swung between obsession, need and hurt.

Bracing his weight above her, he tugged her shirt off. He needed her naked. Needed nothing separating his hands from her flesh. She let him this time, and they left the shirt lying under her in a tangle. He stroked a hand down her side, rubbed his index finger over one thin scar, watching her closely.

Her eyes widened and she tensed.

“No,” he muttered. Dipping his head, he kissed her, hard and quick. He cupped her ass in his hand and lifted her, tucking her more fully against him. “Mine. You gave yourself to me, Ana . . . you’re mine.”

His . . .

Scars, fears, sad violet eyes, soft silken skin . . . all of her. She was his.

 

 

S
HE awoke alone.

For a minute, she lay there, drained, so full of stunned disbelief, she couldn’t think past it.full of

Duke.

His scent covered her sheets, permeated her skin. There was no way she’d dreamed what had happened a few hours ago, but still, she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Couldn’t believe—

“I’m making breakfast.”

His voice, pitched low, drifted through the wall. Mouth dry, she stared toward the door. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear anything other than a faint sizzle coming from the kitchen, but he’d heard her, knew she was awake.

Breakfast.

Duke was making breakfast.

Duke was
here
.