Primal (11 page)

The kiss, when it came, she hadn’t believed would be as good as the first. Surely it couldn’t have been as good as she remembered the first.

But it was better.

If possible, it was hotter, wilder, more all-consuming than any kiss before it, even that first kiss he had given her four days before.

His lips parted hers, his tongue stroking inside, licking at hers, tempting her to lick back, to play, to tease in a sensual, wicked dance that combined lips and tongues in a manner far more wickedly erotic than she’d ever expected a kiss could be. So erotic it seriously should have been illegal.

Creed didn’t just kiss her. He made love to her mouth.

His lips captured hers, pleasured them with sipping, licking kisses that spread a fire through her senses she couldn’t control—didn’t want to control.

He held her wrists easily above her head, restraining her gently as his free hand gripped her hips, holding her to him as his own hips shifted against the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs. Clasping his body with her knees, arching to him, rising against him, Kita felt the same brilliant conflagration exploding through her.

Cinnamon and sweet spice filled her taste buds. The fragrance, the flavor infused her senses, lending an additional sensuality to the caress.

Naked beneath him, vulnerable and aching, Kita hadn’t known a moment’s fear in his embrace. Each touch was delivered for her pleasure only. Bestowed with the greatest of care as the thin material of his shirt skimmed the tight buds of her nipples.

She wanted. She wanted him as she had never wanted anything in her life. The desperation traveling through her body was primal, instinctive. It was like a hunger she couldn’t stop from raging through her system.

When his lips pulled from hers, Kita had to admit she well understood why he had attempted to warn her that it may be something she didn’t want.

She could feel an almost unnatural heat rising inside her, a furious demand resonating throughout her body, crying out for more, for more than his kiss, more than the feel of his denim-covered cock against her pussy. She wanted all of him. His full possession. That blinding, overwhelming fullness that tore her past the bonds of reality and threw her into a shimmering world of release and ultimate satisfaction.

The heat, the demand, the need, was amplified. It wasn’t unnatural. It was sharper, the sensations clearer, cleaner. It was like having a veil of restraint torn away, any fear, uncertainties, or natural hesitancies washed from the senses as pure hunger overtook it.

That was mating heat.

A sense of wonder rose inside her as his lips pulled from hers and traveled along her jaw, leaving the taste of him against her tongue, tempting her.

But it was only seconds later he returned.

Her lashes drifted as he paused above her, his breathing harsh, rapid. Dark gray eyes were nearly black, his lips swollen, cheeks flushed a dark brick red as his gaze centered on her lips.

She licked them slowly, teasingly.

“Let me taste you again, Creed.” She strained against the hold he had on her. “Kiss me again. Do you know I dreamed of your kiss?”

“The perfect kiss,” he answered.

Her eyes widened, lips parting to drag in more air, to ease the sudden restriction in her chest, the emotion, the arousal beating through her heart.

The perfect kiss.

That was what she had searched for. That kiss that fed the need, the arousal. That could soothe or could burn. That could bring ease or bring hunger.

“Creed’s kiss.” Her lips trembled, emotion nearly overwhelming her. “One more.”

He shook his head slowly. “Not one more, Kita. A lifetime more.”

This time, as his lips moved over hers, parted them, his tongue stroking inside, Kita took what she wanted. His taste. The pleasure to be found, the heat and the mark of the lion she’d believed could be no more than a rumor.

Her teeth nipped at his tongue; her tongue stroked over it. She suckled at each penetration of her mouth, glorying in the growl that rumbled in his chest each time the taste of him intensified against her tongue.

His kiss wasn’t all he used to destroy her senses, though.

As one hand held her hands above her head, the other stroked her body. Caressing up her side, cupping her breast, his fingers toying with a nipple as she arched closer and strained to keep contact with his lips.

With the perfect kiss.

Their moans filled the air, swirling around their senses as heated flames licked at Kita’s body.

It was exquisite. It was like being immersed in a world of pure sensuality and white hot pleasure. It whipped through her veins, tightened through her body, and had her gripping his hips with her knees as her body writhed against him.

The heated length of his cock throbbed beneath the denim, pressing into her clit as she rubbed against it, tempting him, on the edge of begging him for the relief she was becoming desperate for.

He tore his lips from hers, gasping for breath, perspiration dotting his brow, a rivulet running from his shoulder as she lifted her head to catch it with her tongue.

The taste of male arousal and heated hunger exploded in her mouth. She moaned, her eyelids almost too heavy to keep open while her body vibrated with a languorous desperation she couldn’t control.

“I want to touch you,” she moaned as his fingers cupped her breast, lifted it, and his head descended to the hard tip of her nipple.

His tongue met the tight, hard bud first. Like a lash of pure electric sensation whipping over it, as she arched in a quick, reflexive jerk.

“Creed. Suck it,” she demanded, suddenly so hungry for the feel of his mouth covering her that she couldn’t bear it. “Oh God, Creed. I need your mouth . . .”

A cry tore from her lips as his lips surrounded it. Blistering, wicked. He sucked the bundle of nerve endings into his mouth, drawing it, his cheeks hollowing as his lashes lifted to stare back at her.

His tongue lashed at the tender tip, his teeth gripped. He worried the tiny point, sucked it, loved it until she was arching and begging, crying out for more as he growled above her.

He moved to the other, still holding her wrists above her head as he cupped the mound with his free hand and bent his head to it. He licked around the tip, licked over it. He sucked it inside, sending brutal slashes of pleasure racing from her nipple to her clit, clenching her womb and spilling heated moisture from between her thighs.

With another hard growl, a last firm lick, his head lifted once again, his gaze intent, savagely predatory as that adventurous free hand slid down her stomach.

“I can smell your sweet juices,” he whispered as his fingers rasped over the tender flesh of her stomach. “I want to lick your pussy, baby. I’m going to eat you until all you can do is come for me. Until every thrust of my tongue up your tight pussy has you screaming, Kita. Begging for more.”

She was shaking, watching in fascination as he began to lick a path of fire down her body, releasing her wrists, though she barely realized it, spreading her thighs wide and finally kneeling on the wood deck beneath the edge of the lounger.

The fingers of one hand smoothed through the slick folds as Kita whimpered in rising excitement.

“I dreamed of tasting you. Of kissing you here. Of feeling your tight little pussy rippling around my tongue, your clit swelling against it. That’s what I’m going to have, Kita. I’m going to feel your pussy coming around my tongue.”

His palms flattened on her thighs, pressing them farther apart as his head lowered, his heated breath caressing the intimate flesh a second before his tongue swiped through the saturated slit.

Kita had to watch. She couldn’t help but watch. Watch as he devoured her pussy, licked around her clit, then slowly, oh so very slowly, sucked the swollen, tortured little knot of nerves into his mouth.

Kita tried to scream. Her upper body jerked, nearly rising from the lounger before his palm pressed against her upper stomach and pushed her back to the thick pad. Her hips arched, her feet sliding from the edge of the reclining chaise and lifting closer, pushing her clit further against him.

His tongue circled the swollen bud with flickering licks that had flashes of ecstasy nearly exploding inside her. His fingers parted the folds, two slipping inside her, rubbing, stroking in small thrusts until he was buried inside her and she swore she was dying from the pleasure.

Her hands gripped the pad of the chair above her. Her eyes closed, too heavy to remain open, but the sensations so much sharper, hotter from the lack of sight.

His fingers stretched the supersensitive tissue of her pussy. He thrust inside her, pulling back and pushing inside as he fucked her in controlled, easy penetrations that had her gasping from the pleasure.

His tongue tormented her clit. His lips closed around it, his mouth drew on it. She could feel sizzling pulses of electric sensation beginning to build inside her. Like sparks of lightning shattering the sky, each stroke, each thrust, each lick sent sparks of sensation tearing through her body.

It was so close. She could feel it. It was burning, tightening in her womb. The muscles of her vagina clamped down on his fingers as they pushed past with rasping thrusts. The hold his lips had on her clit was wicked, fiery, pulling each sensation through her clit before sending it racing hotter, harder through every nerve ending of her body.

She could hear herself calling out his name, begging. Her hips lifted and fell, grinding against his lips as she felt rapture continuing to build inside her.

She’d never known sensations like this. She’d always sensed they were there. Always sensed that the pleasure could be so much more, that the perfect kiss, the perfect touch, awaited her.

She had known Creed was there, somewhere. Sensed him. Felt him. Known life held so much more if she could only find it.

And she had found him. Or had he found her? But he was here now, his tongue lashing at the nerve-rich nubbin of her clit as his fingers pierced her pussy, fucking it with such slow, easy strokes that she could feel the heightened sensations building ever stronger.

Pleasure lashed at her.

Like bolts of quick-fire electricity zapping through her clitoris, her pussy, her womb, clenching, spasming through her until finally, with a desperate cry of broken control, she felt every nerve ending in her body rupture.

The orgasm exploded through her system in a rush of such ecstasy, such soul-binding pleasure, she felt as though a part of herself had flown free, straight into Creed’s soul.

Her eyes flew open, her lips parting in a soundless scream as he gave a harsh groan, pulled his fingers out of her, and a second later pressed the thick crest of his cock against the tender, convulsing entrance to her cunt and gave a hard, heavy thrust.

Her feet dug into the wood of the deck, her hips arching from the padded lounge to force the thick flesh deeper, harder. The additional rush of sensation was like throwing gasoline to an already raging flame burning out of control, exploding into the night.

Opening her eyes, her gaze moved, mesmerized, to where he was working the hard stalk of his cock inside her body. The dark flesh, heavily veined and throbbing, shimmered with her juices as he pulled back.

Penetrating again, moving in further with the next thrust, he parted the folds, spreading her, finding nerve endings she was certain she hadn’t felt the times he had used the condom.

He seemed harder, thicker, hotter. Almost bruising in its power and hardness, the engorged shaft forged inside as he straddled the lounge chair, his hands gripping her hips, her thighs lying over his, hips arched.

Her cunt still flexed and gripped in echoes of the orgasm she had barely survived and still, she could feel it building again. It was rising inside her with each thrust, with each burning, stretching penetration until with a final, hard stroke he was buried to the hilt.

Kita lifted her gaze.

He was throbbing inside her, so thick, so heavy she felt overfilled, overly possessed. Her inner flesh flexed and spasmed around the intruder, stroking it, milking it as she fought to catch her breath.

“When it happens,” he said, his voice guttural, “when I come, love, don’t be frightened.” His chest was moving with harsh breaths, the effort to maintain his control obvious.

Kita shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about. She had no intention of being frightened.

“Fuck me, Creed,” she finally gasped when he didn’t move. “Don’t talk me to death.”

His lashes drifted over his gaze for a moment. When they opened, his eyes had a dark, hungry look. Like a predator with its prey, determined now to enjoy every moment with it.

“Fuck you?” He moved back slow and easy as her back arched, her hands jerking from the cushion above her to latch on to the wrists holding her hips. “Oh, Kita, I’ve dreamed of showing you exactly how I can fuck you.”

The next hard, blinding thrust set the pace. Her cries filled the sheltered deck and yard as her body strained at the hard slamming thrusts. The rasp of his cock over the nerve-laden inner flesh was agony and ecstasy.

She was being thrown into a world of pure sensation, and there was no escaping. She could feel every minute nerve ending as his cock burned across her inner flesh in a long, fierce stroke. Shafting inside her with powerful thrusts, he gripped her hips, holding her in place, forcing her to endure the brutal pleasure of it.