His mouth was on her, hot and demanding, and she cried out, a keening wail she couldn’t stop. It felt so good. His teeth scraped over her soft skin while his tongue became a wicked insistent instrument of torturous pleasure, pressing over the hard tight bud of her nipple again and again. His arms locked her closer, while his mouth devoured her with an urgent hunger that only fed her own.
He sounded feral, hot growls that rumbled from deep in his chest. “Lose the damn skirt, Pepper,” he snarled, and closed his mouth once more around her breast.
She arced into him, a small mewling sound escaping as she desperately tried to do as he commanded. Nonny had given her the skirt and she didn’t want it torn, but that thought was fleeting. She couldn’t hold anything in her head. There was too much sensation pouring over and into her.
With fierce impatience, Wyatt hooked both thumbs in her skirt and dropped it to the floor. Pepper kicked it out of the way. His fist bunched her hair in his hand and he yanked her head back.
“You’re mine. Do you understand me? Mine.”
The ferocious declaration should have scared her, not thrilled her, but hot liquid seeped between her legs onto her inner thighs at the glittering look in his eyes. No one had ever matched her fierce passion, the deadly need that stalked her day and night. Wyatt with his burning hunger more than matched her, he took her with him to another place that was both frightening and thrilling.
She waited too long to answer him, and his hand tightened warningly. She could see the fierce cat in his eyes, the driving need for domination, his mate submitting to his will. The prickles in her scalp sent another flood of liquid heat. His other hand went to her nipple, fingers tugging hard, rolling and stroking until she gasped, panting with need.
“Fuckin’ answer me, Pepper. You’re mine. Say it. And know when you do, there’s no takin’ it back. We stand together no matter what. Say it, damn you.”
He drew her breast into the inferno that was his mouth, using the edge of his teeth until she cried out. His tongue soothed her even as his fingers tugged at her other nipple roughly.
Her body was no longer her own, burning up, a fiery storm of flames she couldn’t control. She needed to feel his skin against hers, but he was still fully clothed. He kept at her body, using teeth and tongue, suckling, tugging and nipping until pleasure and pain mixed into one snarling ball of need that had her crying out, pleading incoherently with him.
He ran his hands over her rib cage, her flat belly and the flare of her hips, possession in the strong fingers everywhere they touched her, as if he was branding her with his own name. It felt like that, his touch a brand, sinking deep beneath her skin to her very bones. The world faded, the room, even the floor beneath her feet. There was only Wyatt with his demanding hands and his mouth and tongue and teeth and the ravenous hunger that only grew between them.
Fingers of desire danced down her thighs, teased the insides of them until every nerve ending she had seemed raw and exposed, throbbing between her legs. She felt the bite of his teeth, of his nails, another mark of possession on her body, his cat DNA feeding his fierce voracious hunger. A sob escaped.
With a low, rough growl, wholly sensual, Wyatt grasped her panties and yanked, ripping them away from her body. His palm pushed hard against her moist heat at the junction of her legs, that fierce furnace, the liquid spilling into his hand.
She gasped, cried out, thrown into an orgasm with just his touch alone. Her body rippled, quaked, tumbled hard into the wild ride as he clamped his hand over her, his thumb pressing deep against her hottest button.
Again. Give it to me again. He snarled the command, giving her no choice.
His fingers pushed deep inside her, thumb stroking, manipulating, while his mouth pulled strongly at her breast and ran up her throat, kissing and biting, until she was nearly mad with desire. He drove her up fast, his hands implacable, fiercely demanding she give him what he wanted. Her body careened over the edge a second time, this orgasm much stronger, ripping through her hard, rushing up toward her breasts and down toward her thighs, leaving her gasping and panting and crying out his name.
Look at me, damn it. See who I am. See all of me.
It took a moment to pry her eyes open, with the tremors rocking her body, but she did. His sensual features were stamped with violence, with predatory hunger, and sheer unadulterated possession.
I can handle you, all of it. I can give you every damn thing you need. You’re mine. Now fuckin’ say it. I want the words. Give yourself to me.
She hadn’t realized the scope of his need for domination, the wildness or passion that raged in him just as it raged in her. But there was no mistaking that look. She found herself drowning in that look.
“I’m yours,” she murmured out loud. “Yours.”