Authors: Lora Leigh
And when he returned—
When he returned, it would be to the mate willing to give all of herself to the Breed who had finally set her free.
•EPILOGUE•
He was wounded.
Diane stood silently, biting her lip as she watched as the Breed medic worked silently on the gash across his right bicep, and this was after digging the bullet from the shallow wound in his shoulder.
Blood smeared across and down his chest, but he sat silently, almost relaxed but for the edge of concern in his somber gaze as he watched her.
She was frowning at him. Her hands were braced on her hips as she glared at the wounds.
“I told you not to get wounded,” she pointed out calmly.
“You did,” he agreed with a slow, thoughtful nod. “And I tried very hard to please you, mate, but that Vanderale brat seemed to think his own hide was more important than mine and used me for a shield.”
Oh, now this was just wrong. He was blatantly lying to her. Blatantly, playfully. Almost flirtatiously lying to her. She had already heard the details when he was first brought in, but she turned to Jonas and Dane where they stood behind her anyway.
Both men were glaring at her mate.
Her brow arched inquisitively. “Vanderale brat?” she asked Dane curiously.
He grunted at the insult. “Next time, I’ll throw him to the damned Coyotes.”
“Looks like he’s going to live, anyway,” Jonas drawled as he watched Lawe broodingly. “You acted like you actually missed having bullets whine past your head.”
Lawe grinned.
The sight of that smile did something to her. It melted her insides. Like butter on a hot summer day she could feel emotion just oozing through her, over-taking her, seeping into all the little hidden, previously locked areas of her soul to fill her with a sense of rich, sudden life.
“And I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Dane murmured.
“Damned Breed sense of smell.” Diane sighed as they both left the suite, the outer doors closing behind them as the medic laid the last skin cement to the degradable staples used to pull the edges of the wound together.
Sealing the exposed raw flesh, the Breed pulled back, packed his instruments into the old-fashioned black case he carried and shook his head at Lawe. “I thought I was done fixing you up.”
“This happens often does it?” Diane asked.
The medic grinned. “Just every time he heads out on a mission, finds a Council soldier to fight, or just plain wants to spar with the younger Breeds to prove his experience beats their youth and strength.” He chuckled. “Sure you want him back on active status?”
She turned back to her mate. His brow was arched, his expression knowing.
“Hell,” she breathed out in exasperation, “it’s probably the only way to keep from killing him.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty tame while he’s healing.” The medic chuckled as he headed for the door. “Call me if he busts the stitches loose.”
Within seconds he too had left the room, leaving them alone.
“In pain?” she asked.
He rose from the bed and quickly shed his jeans. The shirt had been cut from him earlier, his boots eased from his feet the moment they had been lifted to the bed.
He was aroused.
The bronze length of his cock speared out from his body, thick and throbbing, the mushroomed crest gleaming damply with pre-cum as his balls lifted tight to the base of the shaft.
“Pretty sure,” she murmured as she tore the loose shirt over her head and quickly shed the yoga pants she had donned.
She was ready for him.
Diane could feel her juices gathering on the lips of her pussy as the inner muscles pulsed and flexed with the need for attention.
Wrapping his fingers around the heavy column, he stroked it lazily as he stared down at her, his gaze becoming intent and brooding.
“Punishment time,” he murmured.
Her brow lifted, her gaze flicking to his fingers as they stroked his powerful erection.
“Really?” she murmured.
“Really.” Stepping to her, his head lowered, his lips catching hers in a kiss that seemed to sink inside her soul.
The taste of the mating hormone was richer, spicier. It seemed to go to her head faster, the addictive essence a power punch to her arousal as she moaned at the fiery sensations suddenly racing through her.
He’d just been wounded, a bullet had been dug out of the heavy muscle of his shoulder, staples held the gash in his bicep together but the erection pressing into her belly felt stronger, thicker than ever. His arms as they drew her to him sent a surge of heated security—not protectiveness—racing through her.
She was safe here. Emotionally safe. Her heart would always be cherished by him, her happiness always his priority.
Twining her arms around his neck, her fingers sifting through his hair, Diane caught her breath on a moan as the power of the mating hormone continued to build inside her. To rush through her system, and to set fire to feelings, emotions, needs she had no idea how to decipher.
She pulled at his hair and when he nipped at her lips she could have sworn she nearly reached her orgasm.
Her pussy pulsed, her juices spilling from the clenched opening to saturate the swollen folds beyond. Her nipples ached and throbbed as they brushed against his chest, but when his fingers and thumbs found the tender points and began to massage them with erotic roughness she felt her juices dampen her thighs as well.
Heat raced through her blood veins, tore across her nerve endings and left her shaking as she clenched her thighs together and fought for that pinnacle of pleasure.
“Lawe—” Oh God, she needed him.
His hands slid to her rear, his fingers curving over and clenching the rounded flesh as he lifted her to him.
“Lawe.” What was that sensation?
The prick of pleasure or impending heat as he pulled at the cheeks of her rear, separating them, the motion tugging at the hidden, forbidden entrance within.
It wasn’t the physical sensations that sent that punch of electric flames racing through her womb. It wasn’t the echo of increased arousal spilling her juices from her pussy that had her crying out for him.
It was the emotion. That feeling. It was something she had never felt before suddenly tearing through her, weakening her knees, reminding her she was a woman.
She was weaker—her muscles went lax, trembling as though there were no strength within them.
She was feminine—her pussy was melting, spilling the slick essence of that femininity to her thighs.
She was—“Oh God, Lawe.” She wanted to say “no.” She wanted to deny what she was feeling and yet she was unable to.
When he drew back, turned her and eased her to the bed, her breathing began to accelerate. Her heart raced hard and fast in her chest. Because within seconds he had her on her knees, her shoulders pressed to the bed as his hands ran over the curves of her ass.
“So pretty.” He groaned behind her.
His breath feathered the wet curls that shielded the folds of her sex a second before his tongue swiped through the slick juices. Stiffening it, making a point of the tip, he began to probe her clit from beneath, pressing against the sensitive bud before drawing back and rolling it beneath the hood of the tender flesh.
With slow, diabolical movements he began to rub the heated tip against her flesh, searing it with the hormone spilling from his tongue. A second later he sucked the tender bud inside his mouth, closed his lips on it and began to suckle with firm, hungry draws of his mouth. His fingers parted the flesh, found the snug entrance and before Diane could murmur an assent or denial, she felt the tips of his fingers rubbing against her, slipping inside her, separating the clenched flesh and sending pleasure streaking through her.
“Oh yes.” She moaned, her hips writhing against the shallow penetration. “Oh God, Lawe, yes. Please. Take me more.”
She was on the verge of crying, tears filling her eyes as the desperation began to burn through her.
His fingers moved in further, rubbing, stroking slowly, working her flesh open, stretching her then pulling back and repeating the process.
A second later, the fingers of his other hand became busy as well.
Slick, cool. Oh God, that was what the small jar beside the bed was for. The lubricant had confused her. It didn’t anymore. Not as his fingers rubbed the cooling gel over the tender, unopened entrance.
She couldn’t take much more. His tongue flicked at her clit as he sucked at it, the heat of his mouth searing it as sensation built within it. Every nerve ending in her body felt as though it were suddenly filled with electrical currents. They sizzled through her nerve endings, stole her breath and had her fighting for her climax.
When his lips drew back, she wanted to scream in denial. She could barely moan. Then he was kissing a path lower, to where his fingers were easing from her. His tongue rubbed over the entrance, drew her juices to his tongue, then with a hard, quick thrust buried his tongue inside her.
Diane nearly jerked upright. She would have, if there hadn’t suddenly been a hand pressing against her shoulder, holding her to the bed.
His tongue was wicked. It speared inside her, stroked and rubbed and sent her senses spinning. Fucking into the tender, tight entrance he made her feel as though he were relishing each taste of her. As though she were the dessert before the meal.
She was crying, writhing against his mouth, impaled upon his tongue. If he would just thrust it inside her a little harder, a little faster—if he would just lick that one spot just a little more, just a little deeper.
“Ah yes, baby. Sweet Diane.” He pulled back despite her cry.
She felt poised, so close.
Just a little more sensation.
His cock pressed at the opening, heated and engorged as Lawe began to move against her, his hips thrusting, working the stiff, poker-hot shaft of his cock inside her by slow degrees, an inch at a time, throwing her into such a maelstrom of sensation that she felt battered by it.
The fingers of one hand massaged, pressed. A tip invaded the untouched entrance of her rear, sending additional pleasure to tear at her senses. Slick from the gel, heated and dominant he pressed one finger inside her, working against the clench of tissue there to stretch the overly tight channel. Just when she thought she could explode in ecstasy from the surge of pleasures, his finger pulled back, his cock pushed inside her pussy with a hard thrust, then his finger returned, this time with another.
Two fingers worked inside her.
His hips moved against her, pressing, plunging his cock inside her as his fingers slowly, easily began to fuck her ass.
“Lawe, please,” she cried out hoarsely.
“Please what, Diane?” He groaned behind her. “Please fuck your ass with my fingers? Please stop? Please show you you’re fucking mine?”
He pulled back, his cock escaping the grip her pussy had on him, only to return seconds later, only this time, to the sensitive entrance tingling from the stretching his fingers had given it.
“Please,” she cried out again. “Oh God, Lawe, anything.” Her hips rotated, pressed back against the flared crest of his cock as fire and ice seemed to consume her from head to toe.
Pleasure and pain.
Lawe pressed against the entrance, the slick gel he had worked into her anus and the additional coating he’d spread over his cock aiding the entrance.
Stretching, burning her.
Agony and ecstasy erupted inside her, blazing up her spine to tear through her senses as each inward press buried him deeper inside her rear and unleashed yet more of that intensity of emotion.
She felt too feminine now.
Her hips worked back. She could feel every shift of his flesh, every throb through the thickened blood vessels covering the shaft, every pulse of the engorged crest. She felt it with such depth, sensations magnified as he retreated, returned, opened her ass further, stretched her, submitted her.
Her back arched, a cry tore from her throat, and as his cock surged those last inches inside her rear she felt his fingers bury into her vagina from below.
She was possessed. She was taken.
She belonged.
She belonged to him so completely, so utterly, that her body had accepted a possession Diane knew she would have never allowed another man to take.
A possession that sank inside her soul, outstretched fingers of emotional bonds sinking past objection and denial to find a hold she knew he would never release.
He was growling behind her. They were animalistic snarls, groans that were part human and part lion. His head lowered and he hurriedly brushed her hair aside with his chin as his head tilted and his teeth were suddenly locking onto the back of her neck as his hips began moving.
His fingers thrust inside her, fucking her with the same hungry desperation he used as he fucked her ass. In and out, one then the other, shuttling inside her body and tearing aside a veil she hadn’t known hid her woman’s heart from him.
It wasn’t hid any longer.
It was his.
It was her voice crying out for him.
Begging.
“Oh yes,” she whimpered as the pad of his palm raked her clit. “Yes, please. Oh God, Lawe, fuck me.” She sobbed. “Take me. Please, please take me.”