VISIONS OF HEAT

Shifting focus, Vaughn let go of her nipple to scrape his teeth along the vulnerable underside of her breast. Her heart seemed to stop beating.

Giving an incoherent cry, she jerked down his body in a ragged movement. She might’ve kept going had Vaughn’s roar not split the soft darkness into two. Her entire body froze. That was when she realized her jean-clad form was rubbing over the head of his erection. Vaughn jerked at the restraints, the veins on his arms and shoulders pumped with blood. And she became conscious of the fact that he could break the bindings with his strength alone.

But there was no danger, not yet. Heart still not back in the right rhythm, she slid farther down, freeing the hot, hard length of his arousal. He didn’t care for that. “Get back.” It was a snapped command in a voice coated with the thick animal sexuality of the changeling he was.

Shaking her head, she used her hand to claim him as she’d done at the cottage. His body bucked upward, powerful muscle and gleaming flesh.

“You’re so hot,” she whispered, breath coming in pants, “so silky.” She loved touching him.

He growled and it was very close to the edge. “Enough.”

“No.” She wasn’t going to let go until she was finished—if the conditioned pain crippled her, this chance might never come again. And there were lots of things she wanted to do to this magnificent male at her mercy.

“It’ll feel better if you take off the jeans.”

She blinked, surprised to see that she’d changed position so she could grind the ache between her legs against one muscular thigh. Her hand tightened on him.

His breath hissed out. “Off,” he ordered. “Take those damn jeans off!”

“But to do that I’d have to stop,” she muttered.

Vaughn’s eyes went even more cat, if that was possible. “Imagine how good it’ll feel.”

Explicit images crashed into her mind, scenes of her naked and wild above him as she ground her moist heat in slow circles against his thigh. The images were so rich in detail, so sexual, she could almost smell the scent of her need. Then she realized that the musky scent was real. It was her. And it appeared to be driving Vaughn over the edge.

His nostrils flared. “Those jeans are coming off right now if I have to tear them off.” Claws sliced through his skin but he didn’t try to break the bindings.

Something still sane in her said that this was dangerous, that too much skin-to-skin contact could trigger a catastrophic mental backlash, but she was in no mood to listen. If she’d stopped thinking, then so had Vaughn, neither cognizant of the one huge risk they’d forgotten to speak about.

“Do it!”

Releasing the silky hot flesh in her grasp, she rose to stand above him and shimmied out of her jeans and panties. She caught Vaughn’s expression as she threw the clothing aside—he was pure starving male, a very hungry jaguar. His eyes lingered over her breasts before dropping to the curls at the apex of her thighs. And she knew.

He wanted to devour her.

But she was in charge of this intimate game and she wanted him first. Going back down onto her knees, she fisted her hand around him again. His whole body became solid muscle as he waited to see what she’d do. She wasn’t sure herself. So much contact, so much sensation, so much need had smashed into her mind that she was no longer sure of anything.

“But you’re mine to play with.” It was a stubborn, possessive declaration.

The thick heat of him pulsed in her hand as a roar erupted from his throat. She was fascinated by his untamed fury, overwhelmed by the answering wildness in her, wildness that had been contained for a lifetime and now wanted to tear loose.

She ran her nails down his chest. Hard.

His hands jerked at the bindings and the eyes that looked back at her were on the wrong side of feral. “More.”

Awash in uncensored images of what he wanted, she dipped her head to his neck and bit the skin above his pulse. This time she was gentle, teasing, taking, tasting. His body pushed up and hers pressed down. Shocking heat, raw pleasure. Whimpering, she rubbed her damp need against him to the point where both of them were so out of control, thought was something they’d done in another lifetime.

Neither of them spoke as she sat up and used her hand to guide him inside her. He was thick. She should’ve gone slow, but she’d moved way beyond doing what she should. The biting pain of a sudden sharp tear inside her didn’t snap her out of the passion-darkness. It was far too late for that. She’d been conquered by the most primal core of her self.

Mind cascading around her, she began to ride him. He bucked and slammed into her despite his bonds as she slid downward over the near painful thickness of him. Screaming, she did it again. And again. And again.

Until lightning was all she was and her mind ceased to exist.