Predator (4 page)

Then was he simply trying to size up the newcomers to his land?

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Stark’s attention was fixed on her.

She nodded, her eyes asking questions she wouldn’t have the words for even if she’d been able to talk.

“He’s real, and yet he isn’t; a spirit, my spirit, and soon to be yours.”

What are you talking about? Damn it, I don’t understand
—

“I know you don’t,” he said, responding to her unspoken question. “Neither did I at first.” As he’d done once before, he swiped his hand over his eyes. “And I sometimes still fight his control over me. I can’t win. I know that. But I still want back the life I once had. The loneliness…”

This beautiful and powerful man felt helpless because of what? Some damn cougar?

Chapter Four

He’s here
, Stark acknowledged.
Watching. Judging
.

Part of him wanted to walk away from the woman so he could stand before the animal that had turned his life into something he’d never believed could happen and ask for guidance. To be assured that his captive would soon join him in his journey. The rest of him, particularly his hard and lonesome cock, ached to make a lie of his promise not to take her against her will and immediately spill himself in her.

So damnably hard! To be a man without the kind of relationships he’d once had was the hardest part of his new reality. In the past—he could barely remember who and what he used to be—he’d never forced himself on a woman. Many had telegraphed their willingness to share their bodies with him in exchange for him doing the same, and it had been enough.

No longer.

It was all or nothing with Mia. Either she surrendered or—

Scant moments later, Mia could no longer dismiss the cougar as a simple animal. Thankfully, he hadn’t come any closer, but his stare became more intense, making her wonder if the creature was trying to capture her mind. Even worse, she swore she could read his thoughts. Thoughts? From a cougar?

But what else could it be? The last thing she’d been thinking about just moments ago was how precious and endangered the forest had become. Her concentration had been on something far different—her spinning sexual awareness. Then that intense animal stare had changed things.

“He’s reaching you,” Stark said, his hands resting on her newly exposed waist and his mouth so close she felt his heat.

Eyes brimming, she nodded.

“I don’t know how it happens.” He inched lower, fingers exploring her belly. “I now accept his messages and feel blessed because of them, but at first I wanted to kill him.”

Shocked, she struggled to concentrate on what he was saying and not the possessive hands heading for her sex. As long as her jeans and panties remained around her hips, they’d prevent him from reaching what she had no doubt was his goal—but did she want that?

How had everything become so complicated?

“I had a job, a life.” He leaned closer, his body blanketing hers and blocking her view of the predator. “I wanted to hold on to those things, but he had a different use for me.”

What is that use, and what does it have to do with— No, don’t! Don’t touch me like that! I can’t think
.

Now he was at her hips instead of her waist, hands splayed over her hipbones and easily holding her in place. Next, he dipped his dark head, the movement slow and graceful and excruciating. She knew he was going to touch his mouth to her navel, knew it in every vein and nerve ending. Waiting became delicious agony, a swirl of emotions ranging from anger because she had no say in what was happening to heady anticipation. She wanted, needed, craved the press of his flesh on hers. At the same time, she feared the consequences. The loss of will.

Moaning, maybe growling a little, she tried to slide out from under him because as soon as he kissed her there she’d be lost. Lost! Growling back, he held her in place. His palms dug into her hips, pain and pleasure meshing together.

And when she least expected it, he reared back, grabbed her jeans, and yanked them down over her hips. He didn’t stop until the denim was around her thighs, making it impossible for her to spread her legs. She didn’t need to look at herself to know what he was seeing: creases in her flesh left by the sturdy fabric, her pale belly and reddish pubic hair visible through the whisper of yellow nylon clinging to her pelvis.

He growled again, and she thought she heard another growl, this one issuing from where she’d seen the cougar. She started trembling before Stark lowered his head again. Sucking in her belly made her lightheaded.

Heat. So much heat racing through her.

His mouth over her belly nearly lifted her off the ground, and when his tongue glided in and out of her navel, her hands curled into useless fists. Back arching, she offered herself to him. He rewarded her by raking his teeth over her stomach and starting a fire there. Desperate to touch him, she writhed under him. Undoubtedly he’d left her jeans where he had because he wanted her frustrated. Straining against the confining denim, she admitted she was that, and more. A twitching mess dependent on him for satisfaction. If she were free—damn, if she were free, she’d wrestle him to the ground and plant her legs on either side of his hips so that when she came down, his cock would slide into her starving core. She’d ride him like a cowgirl atop a bronco, spurring him on until he exploded inside her.

But she couldn’t do that insane thing. Instead, she was reduced to impotent hip grindings while he licked and kissed, nipped and tongued. He confined his
explorations
to the area just above what her panties covered, the repeated teeth-scraping turning her flesh there so sensitive she half believed she’d shatter.

She hated what he was doing to her, this relentless, intimate teasing, possessing what he had no right to, holding her against the ground and filling her pussy with liquid heat.

And she loved his rough touches, his wet tongue, gentle mouth, and harsh teeth. She loved being all woman and white hunger.

I can’t—can’t take—you’re killing—oh God, killing
—

Rearing upright, he rotated his neck as if working a kink out of it before focusing on her again. She couldn’t comprehend his expression, which frightened her, and although not having her nerves assaulted allowed her some small amount of control over her emotions, she needed back the heady danger.

“Your body’s humming. Dancing. I love the way it feels.”

You’re responsible
.

“You hate me right now. Having sexual heat forced on you isn’t what you wanted to happen today. But you need to be tamed. Remade.”

Damn him for throwing his nonsensical words at her! But even as she raged against him and everything he stood for, she also admitted she’d never wanted anything more than what he’d just promised. Tamed? The word conjured up images of a wild horse about to be branded, but it would be worth it, if he also fucked her.

Fuck?

Yes, she acknowledged. That was exactly where she wanted this to go.

Watching her with his predator eyes, he eased her jeans down until they encircled her knees. Lifting her head, she tried to look at herself, but he forced her back onto the ground.

“No, don’t. Experience, just experience.”

She wanted to do as he’d ordered, wanted to become an oozing mess ruled by sensation, but when he placed his hand over her eyes, panic grabbed hold, and she thrashed her head. For several endless seconds, he fought her, then let her see again.

“Lesson learned.” He seemed to be speaking to himself. “You can handle being silenced and not being able to use your hands, but sight’s vital. I won’t forget that.”

Her heart was still pounding, but at least she no longer felt as if she couldn’t breathe. If asked, she wouldn’t be able to say why his blinding her had unnerved her so.

“I was going to take things one step at a time, letting instinct rule me, not telling you what I had in mind, but maybe I was wrong. Anticipation. Not being certain what’s going to happen, but having some idea, keeps things from being more than you can deal with.”

His tone, as calm as if he were discussing a weather forecast, might be designed to settle her even more, but he was wrong. Damn wrong. Not only was she locked into the sound of his voice, his hands were splayed over her panties with his thumbs so near her core she’d soaked the fabric between her legs. Hell, he could probably smell her arousal.

“We’re going to have sex. But first, I want—I need you so hungry that you have to fuck as much as I do. All inhibitions cast aside, down to basics. Animal to animal.”

She’d known he was going to pull down her panties before he did. The sudden wash of summer heat over her just-exposed flesh unnerved her more than having her breasts exposed had. This was more intimate, a point of no return, her cunt now available to him. Beyond vulnerable.

“Something else I’m changing.” Lifting her head with one hand, he untied her gag. “It’s time for you to talk again.”

Instead of taking advantage of her small freedom, she waited him out, certain he’d silence her again if she said anything that displeased him. But when he imposed no conditions, she relaxed a little.

“Why me?” Her voice was rough-edged, something she couldn’t help. “I know. I’m here alone. But why me?”

“I thought you understood.”

“Understood what?”

“You’re in tune with the wilderness, and it trusts you.”

The wilderness was made up of living, but unthinking, organisms, but maybe she comprehended his meaning after all. Certainly she felt more comfortable in settings like this than anywhere else. “I don’t trust you.”

“I know.”

She’d wanted to say a thousand things when she couldn’t speak, but now her mind emptied out. Or maybe the truth was the energy between them outstripped the need for any other kind of communication. She’d never understood women who liked being manhandled, and twice had ended relationships because the boyfriend at that time had started acting as if he had the right to call all the shots. As for the whole man always on top thing, that belonged to her grandmother’s generation.

And yet—

Ah, shit, and here she was slipping away, becoming whatever it was he believed she needed to be.

Maybe he’d once again tapped into her thoughts because he cupped his hand over her mons, his fingers trailing over her slit. Electricity slammed into her and lifted her buttocks off the ground. If she could have moved her legs, she’d—what? Watching him through half-open eyes, she accepted the heat and strength seeping from him to her. He’d turned her into something weak and pliable. At the same time, she was absorbing his strength and making it hers—giving her the courage to see this through to the end, if there was one.

“We aren’t so complex after all.” His voice hummed through her, sliding her down into a space she’d never known existed. “We humans think we’ve evolved so far and that our so-called superior intellect has lifted us above animals.” His middle finger glided over her pussy lips, the journey made easy by the fluids weeping from her. “But beneath that veneer we show the world, we’re as primitive as they are.”

Stark bent low again, his mouth first touching and then engulfing her right breast. His forefinger entered her at the same time, a sleek and simple invasion she acknowledged by clenching her pussy muscles around him.

He sucked, sucked some more, pulled back until only her nipple remained in his mouth and held it between his teeth. Held on. Another finger—she couldn’t tell which—joined the one already in her, and her pussy softened and expanded and wept. Her feet beat a rapid tattoo on the ground, and she couldn’t stop whipping her head from side to side. Animal sounds escaped.

And although she could no longer see the creature, she sensed the cougar’s eyes on them.

A burning throughout the breast Stark had claimed penetrated the hot fog drifting around her, forcing her to still her movements. He wasn’t biting her nipple so much as trapping it between his teeth, but circulation was being compromised. Knowing what he was doing took her into a place of fantasy where she existed as nothing except this man’s plaything. Not only had he claimed her as his possession, he knew exactly how to keep her emotionally off balance and sexually on fire. The invading fingers provided more than stimulation. They claimed, owned, controlled. Gave birth.

Modern, liberated women—and she considered herself a card-carrying member—would never allow a man to treat them like a possession, and yet she was.

Could she make him stop?

Did she want to?

A quick bite of pain followed by release and relief swung her thoughts from her cunt to her breast. Although now free, her breast still throbbed and probably would for several minutes. Lifting her head, she saw that he’d left indentations where his teeth had gripped.

Watching her with a mix of concentration and amusement, he cupped a hand around her breast and lightly squeezed it. “My marks. Proof of my claim on you.”

“You—you have no right.”

“It’s not a matter of right, Mia. This is about responsibility and commitment.”

I don’t understand
. But telling him that wouldn’t change anything. He’d continue going about whatever it was he was doing at his pace and in his way, and she had no choice but to accept and absorb.

The hell you do
, a rebellious spark insisted.
You can fight. Tell him you’ll have him arrested
.

Only his fingers remained deep inside her, and he’d all but stripped her naked, and she wanted nothing more out of life—well, almost nothing. Letting her head fall back, she tried to concentrate on her aching nipple instead of the intimate invasion elsewhere, but the ache, the delicious burning, was on the move, traveling along her veins and arteries and flooding her with sensation. She was alive, keenly alive! Exposed and expanded.

How she loved the feel of a cock in her! Even when her mind argued that the man fucking her wasn’t the one she could consider spending her life with, the instinctive animal who lived beneath her civilized surface was content. All that creature needed was to fuck and be fucked, to climax and scream and scratch and bite and have those things done to her.