Page 31 of Bad Blood Panther

His heart felt so cold. He wanted her with a desperation that infuriated him.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he whispered, biting her earlobe. He nipped his way down the tendon of her neck, leaving faint marks on the skin. Jenny moaned.

“Yes,” she panted.

“Do you want me to be gentle?”

“No.”

He reared back and thrust himself into her from behind. She gasped, then arched her back. “Yes,” she moaned. “This.” She moved frantically, pushing him deeper inside.

He pulled partway out and thrust into her again, deep and hard. He wrapped one arm around her hips, and the other found her breast, playing with the nipple as he moved within her, holding her ass against him and circling his hips.

Jenny reached behind her and cupped her hand around the back of his neck, bracing the other against the wall. She was giving little yowling moans with every thrust, making him and his cat both crazy.

No more playing. He grabbed her hips and drove into her. She was wildly hot, amazingly soft. She met him with equal force, taking everything he had, matching it with her own wildness, her own anger, her own need.

Her heat set him on fire. He heard her gasp, felt her arch against him again as she came. Her panther let out a wild, sexy snarl.

With a groan, Xander let himself go. All the rage and pain, all the loneliness and despair, coalesced in the pit of his stomach. She took him into her body and accepted it all, opening to him, pulling him in.

He rode the wave of need and desire, stroking into her with a hard, relentless rhythm.

He wanted this unending wave of emotion and sensation to rise, and break, and take him someplace new, someplace where everything was different.

He moved the hand that gripped her, slipping his fingers between her legs to find her most sensitive spot. She gave a drawn-out moan, and he could feel her muscles tensing, her climax building again.

Surrender. He didn’t speak the word out load, but the moment he thought it, she shattered with a wild, ragged cry. He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

It wasn’t enough.

He drove into her, desperate for release, and finally it came with such force it almost brought him to his knees.

He pulled Jenny tight against him, still buried in side her. He couldn’t move, couldn’t let her go. He was drowning. Pain and rage and confusion, loneliness and longing and despair. Hope destroyed and regained. It was rushing him away, tumbling him over and over until he couldn’t breathe and he the darkness threatened to overwhelm him.

Their breathing slowed, but he couldn’t let her go. He felt like if he didn’t hold her tight against him, he would fall apart into a zillion pieces.