Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 (35 page)

I clung to truly awesome muscles. “What about Dirk?”

“He’s gone. I found us someplace private.” He stepped under a waterfall of willow tree branches and we were in nature’s secluded bower.

He’d lined the springy ground with his soft T-shirt and worn jeans. Laying me on this impromptu bed, he covered me with skin warmer and smoother than any blanket.

I spread my hands on his back. My fingers rippled over acres of pure muscle. His mouth descended on mine, and his taste was as wild and darkly sensual as our outdoor cocoon.

With the world shut out, his urgency changed, taking his time, kissing me thoroughly with soft swipes of tongue and lips, light nips and tastes. I loved the feel of his skillful mouth—loved even more the occasional slips of control, those jags of impatience, quickly contained, that meant he wanted as much as me, but was making sure I had my fill of pleasure first.

I stabbed my tongue between his lips and demanded my own back.

His mouth opened and his dark taste intensified. I kissed until I was drunk on him, until my body throbbed and my blood pounded and I desperately wanted more. I tried to open my thighs, but my legs were pinned under his. I wriggled.

He lifted slightly, the male version of the panty hip-lift. Immediately, I spread my legs. He settled between them, heavy and hot. My jeans and panties were thin barriers to his pulsing erection and my blossoming need.

He wrapped both hands around my waist and swept up, raising my tee and bra over my breasts. He fell to suckling.

Sweet need filled me. I marveled at his dark head, nearly as big as my whole chest, and his shoulders broad as airplane’s wings just beyond. Need intensified to ache. I cupped his silky head and pressed him closer.

Birds chirped around us, masking our quickening breaths and soft moans. At my urging, he suckled harder. My fingers clenched fistfuls of black hair. He made a small sound, pain laced with pleasure. I consciously eased my grip, but was too aroused to stop my hands from rubbing him with ever increasing desire.

He raised his head and I skimmed fingers over his face, his strong cheekbones, his lips…his fangs. Their smooth warmth drew me and I stroked them with my thumbs. They lengthened and throbbed under the pads of my fingers. I stroked again.

He groaned, a tight, throttled roar. Every muscle around his eyes clenched tight, his jaw clenched even tighter. His cock expanded up my belly like a balloon, dripping hot desire.

I blinked. Teeth as a G-spot? But the evidence was before me, so I plucked them between thumb and forefinger like nipples.

His reaction was immediate and extreme. He reared back, mouth open wide, and sank them into my breast.

Lava desire poured into me, seared me. Lust surged, flooded every nerve ending, every organ. My body filled, swelled almost painfully. The pressure built without an outlet, without release, until my hips jerked, drawing my jeans-sheathed sex over his hard erection. Friction burned hot, pumped my ballooning need. I whimpered.

With fangs still embedded, his lips clasped my nipple and pulled. He suckled me, hard. I swelled brighter, hotter, as if I were filling with the exploding universe. The erotic suction was so intense it bent me in an arch into the soft, clothes-lined loam.

I rubbed myself frantically against his thick cock, seeking release. My flexing hips scraped denim over his bare shaft, hard enough to scour him raw. He didn’t seem to notice, suckling me with eyes closed, his expression pure bliss. “Ah,
babi
. You’re so sweet. So lovely.”

“Glynn…please, enough.” I was terribly aroused and having trouble breathing, trying to keep my moans and pants under the natural noises around us.

He lifted his head. His fangs emerged from my breast, red with my blood.

It was a surreal moment. I might have been horrified, but the sheer joy of his bite filled me to bursting. Liquid heat welled near my nipple, trickled down the curve. Coppery-smelling.

Glynn’s eyes closed, his nostrils flared. “Ah, Junior. My love.” Lashes thick and black against his druid’s cheeks, he touched a worshipful tongue to the hot thread. Began to lap, gently. His complete immersion in the act, engrossed to the point of communing, thrilled me. His tongue, his breath, his passionate celebration inflamed me to flashpoint.

As he licked, he thrust a hand into my waistband. His fingers found my clit, stroked. Like the blown side of a mountain, I orgasmed.

His low rumble started, a dark purring not even vaguely human. I barely noticed. With a final lick, he came to hands and knees over me, grabbed my jeans and pulled them off.

I lifted my hips with a languid roll but neither of us cared. Comfortably sated, my legs fell open. The scent of my satisfaction was so strong even I could smell it.

His gaze riveted on my sex, pupils flaming bright red. His fangs shot out like swords and his cock was so hard it stood straight up.

I slid my hands down my belly to my thighs, framing my vulva. “What are you waiting for?” My seductive whisper barely rose above the crickets’ chirps.

The soft spring air caressed my body. Watching him, I ran a finger over the wet silk of my sex. Overhead, slivers of starry sky shone through the willow’s leafy fall.

Nature at its seductive best. And the prince of nature’s fertile magic knelt between my thighs, staring at me with red, red eyes.

“Come on.” I wiggled in the snug nest of his clothes, trailed one finger along where I wanted that throbbing cock. He still didn’t move a muscle, so I slid the tip of my forefinger in.

He growled, grabbed my thighs. Spread them roughly. Dropped his head and began to feast.

The instant his tongue branded my slit, I arched with intense pleasure. It jerked me against his hold, but he was so inhumanly strong, it was like jerking against the weight of the earth. His fingers bit into my thighs, his mouth opened wide…my vision went red as his fangs sank into my swollen labia.

I screamed a climax so big and shockingly fast it was a
whoosh
of wildfire. I gasped, panted, then keened when he started sucking on my pussy while it still flexed. Heaven help me, his mouth, all hot, wet suction, sent me even higher. I grabbed hunks of hair and felt the world buck beneath me. He sucked and tongued, impaled me on fangs until I was wound so tight and coming so hard it was pain. Not dull aching or rasping hunger but blistering, screaming, fuck-me-oh-
please,
open, ravenous wounds.

In the midst of my screaming, Glynn pulled away and fell to one fist over me, chest pumped. The other fist held his fat, sheathed erection. He guided it toward my spasming pussy and I thought
thank you,
but he only touched his fist to my vulva, thumb positioned over my clitoris.

I writhed under him, trying to impale myself on him, but his hand was in the way. His fist pressed to my open sex and he started feeding cock through it, slow as a glacier. I was an out-of-control wildfire, and he was feeding me heaven inch by screaming inch.

The head popped through first, stretching me. An inch of shaft. Two. I grabbed his shoulders, my clutching fingers barely denting ironwood muscles. I writhed to leverage my hips onto him, thrashing to jam heaven home. He froze me simply by pressing his thumb against my clitoral sheath, bearing down with heavy, dark pleasure. I sucked in a breath.

The thumb wiggled. Jagged bolts cut through me like branched lightning. He grunted and fed in another inch of thick shaft. At this rate, I’d burn to ashes long before he got all the way in.

He did a one-arm pushup. Biceps bulging, his head lowered to my throat, his thumb still assaulting my clit, up and down now, like thumbing a lighter. I cried out, not caring if the world heard me. His breath brushed hot against the sensitive skin of my neck. I wrenched my head back, exposing my throat. His teeth nipped flesh, his incisors sharp, the fangs lying smooth alongside.

Another inch of cock. Two.

I was beyond frantic. I grabbed his head, his hips, and shoved. Urged him to bite me, screw me. But he only nipped and nibbled and teased and oh-so-slowly drove me insane.

Another inch sank in, finally kissed cervix. He was completely filling me, eight or nine inches of shaft and glans—and he still hadn’t removed his fist.

I was out of my head with need for him and
he hadn’t removed his fist
. Like his kiss, he was restraining himself, hanging back, focused totally on my pleasure—and ignoring his.

Fuck that.

I grabbed his ears with both hands, tried to shake him. Like shaking a cliff. “Damn you, Glynn. Take me. Let go. Find your own pleasure, dammit.”

He lifted his head. His face was flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, the red gleam under them the only sign of his preternatural hunger. “Your satisfaction comes first. Your pleasure triggers mine.” His lids drifted shut, then open again, fully. “That’s not right. Your pleasure…it completes mine.”

I was wiggling like a worm on this hook of lust and didn’t see the difference. “I’m satisfied, damn you. Twice. Three times. I don’t know how many.”

He smiled, lazily. “Not enough.” And releasing his cock, he thrust me into the center of the earth.

Ever been pounded into the mattress? Powered into by a male so strong it’s like being bedded by an oil rig, whacking its great thrusting piston into you?

Glynn’s hips rolled and plunged until I was pulverized. Until I shattered in that sweet, dark night. And when I shuddered with release, he didn’t stop. He kept driving straight through my climax, rode me until I lay limp and utterly spent under him.

Then, with a growl, he stabbed his fingers into the soil next to my head.

Energy crackled up his arms, spread through his chest like he was calling up magic. His face glowed, his eyes shone brilliant as the sun. All his muscles expanded, pumped so big and hard the earth itself must have filled them.

It raised the hairs on my arms. My blood pounded in my ears. The short wisps in my braid crackled like a thunderstorm.

All that power, all that weight, slammed into me. I clenched in reaction. Was slammed into again, deep, so deep I whimpered. Was slammed again.

Something inside me awoke. Something dense and heavy and deep, like molten iron at the earth’s core.

Slam.

It shook me. Literally, my breasts and hips shuddering, but that was only the outer manifestation of a deeper, more electrifying jolt. I’d already
climaxed several times and was now a yielding receptacle for his pleasure.

And he, by the simple fact that he put me first, was making me come again.

Growling, he pummeled me, riding me with the rhythm of the rising sea. His male magic commanded my body, my blood, my very soul. I rose with him. Dark as the night, powerful as the earth and vast and irresistible as water, he thrust into me. An ocean’s wave of pleasure swept in with him, swelling bigger and bigger with no crest in sight—and rolling directly toward me.

His climax was coming. And if he continued to take me with him, mine.

I shrieked my denial. An orgasm that big would destroy me. I clung to his massive, pumped biceps, pleaded for him to finish before he demolished me.

He rode me harder. His balls slapped my buttocks and his teeth opened over my throat and I’d gotten what I’d wanted, him out of control, but I hadn’t reckoned with the cost. I opened my mouth to scream
—
just as he sank fangs into my throat.

I imploded. Fractured all the way to my soul, shattering. Seismic waves stripped me of all my pretenses, anything civilized falling and breaking like so much crockery in an earthquake. My body gloried in a pleasure so complete it remade me in its own image. I howled, began pumping my own hips in reaction, flailing desperately and instinctively until I was riding atop the waves, pushing them longer, farther.

I seized him with my legs and beat up, my force that of a woman instead of the earth, but enough for him to roar in counterpoint and churn his pelvis so tight and fast we both burned to cinders. Then he bit me again and the cinders exploded.

Bits of ash floating in the dark were all that was left of me.

Time passed. Rumbles of lazy pleasure stirred the ash. Soft licks here and there recalled a body once real. Warm night brushed bedewed skin, rumpling it into goose bumps. Slits of vision opened to sapphire eyes soft and deep as the night.

Heels slid off muscular buttocks, thumped to spongy ground. Mine, I realized somewhat dazedly. “What…did we…?”

“No one heard. No one’s near.” He touched a finger to his nose.

“Some sniffer.” I yawned. Stretched. I felt clean, new, like I’d gotten a great night’s sleep.

Until reality crashed into my head. I’d had sex with Glynn, again. Not just sex, but sex so cataclysmic it qualified as more. As physical intimacy. As—gulp—lovemaking.

It’s not the decision itself
, I told myself frantically.
It’s what I do after.

Great words, and I knew they were true, but it was now way
after
and I had no idea what the hell I was going to do.

Glynn noticed my dismay and tried to persuade me to talk as we slowly dressed and made for home. His idea of persuasion was soft kisses and gentle bites, and I admit they would have worked if they hadn’t led to more lustful pursuits, three times in quiet, dark corners of the city. The only talking we did then was with our hands and mouths and the occasional groaned name.