I move with him, my body seeking more, instinct overriding the last of my caution.
His breathing is ragged now. The control he wears like armor in the daylight is cracking. I feel it in the desperate grip of his hand on my thigh. In the way he kisses my neck, like he is trying to consume me without breaking the skin.
“Keandra.” My name is a raw sound, torn from him. “I can smell how much you want this.”
A flush of mortification heats my face. But underneath it is a wave of dark, exhilarating pride. He wants me. This powerful, dangerous male wants me.
His other hand slides between our bodies. His fingers find the wet heat soaking through my clothes.
He groans. A deep, broken sound that is all victory. All male.
“You’re ready for me,” he grits out. “Your body knows its Kai.”
And then he shifts. In one smooth, powerful motion, he moves down my body. The furs part around us. He settles between my legs, and the sight of him there, huge and dark in the firelight, is so overwhelming I have to close my eyes.
“Vah,” he commands. Stay.
His hands grip my hips, holding me in place. The tips of his claws press into my skin, a possessive sting. He is going to dowhat he wants. Take what he wants. He pushes my nightdress up, exposing my pussy to him.
And my body is singing with a terrifying, glorious anticipation.
He lowers his head. I feel the exhalation of his breath against my most sensitive flesh, and my entire body bows tight as a drawn bowstring.
The first touch of his tongue is a shock.
A lightning strike.
It’s slow. Deliberate. A flat, hot stroke that goes from my entrance all the way to the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. He is tasting me.
A cry escapes my lips. My hands fly to his hair, my fingers tangling in the thick, dark strands. I expect him to stop, to pull back.
He doesn’t.
He does it again. And again.
Each lap of his tongue is a brand. A claim. He explores me with a focused, intense concentration that is terrifying. There is no hesitation. No tentativeness. There is only a single, driving purpose: to learn every inch of me. To own this part of me.
My hips try to lift, to chase the pleasure, but his grip tightens, holding me down. I am completely at his mercy. A captive to the slow, devastating rhythm he is setting.
He finds a spot that makes me gasp, a sensitive place just inside me. He focuses there, circling it with the tip of his tongue until my thighs begin to tremble. The pressure builds, a tight coil winding deep in my belly, hotter and hotter.
“Kaiven,” I gasp, his name a desperate plea. “Please.”
He growls against me, the vibration traveling through me, amplifying the sensation a thousand times. He takes my clit into his mouth and sucks.
Hard.
The world shatters.
The coil snaps. My vision goes white. A choked sob tears from my throat as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashes over me, so intense it borders on pain. My body convulses, my back arching off the furs, but he holds on, riding the storm with me, prolonging it, drawing out every last shudder until I am a boneless, trembling mess.
When I finally come back to myself, he is there. Lapping at me gently now, cleaning me with soft, possessive strokes. The firelight catches the sheen of wetness on his face, and the sight is so raw, so intimate, it makes my heart ache.
He rises over me, his big body blocking out the world. His face is in shadow, but I can see the glow of his eyes. Predatory. Satisfied.
I am utterly exposed. Soft. Vulnerable. And so, so full of an emotion I can’t name.
He shifts, and I feel the heavy, impossible length of him press against my thigh. He is huge. The sheer size of him sends a fresh wave of fear and anticipation through me.
