He could take away the desperate hunger that built and built in her until she thought she’d lose her mind. Only him. He could match her passion for passion. Fire for fire. He could tie her to him this way and she’d never escape. She’d been so afraid of tying him to her through sex, that she had never stopped to consider it might go the other way. He’d been careful to keep that information to himself.
He was a fucking genius, and she should have known he’d approach his claiming of her with advanced knowledge, already certain of every move. He’d studied her over the last few days, watched her, had been inside her mind. He knew exactly what to do to get her – to keep her. They could teach her every trick there was when it came to sex. They had found a woman with exceptional beauty, someone naturally sensual and appealing to men. Still, there had to be something else they’d done to her, something to make her need sex, and appeal to every man. The only real answer had to be biochemical.
He had watched to see the cycle, knowing there had to be one. He could match the sex she needed with her cycle to leech the biochemical from her body, to maximize the output so she would have more control. He wasn’t ever going to be stupid enough to tell her – or anyone else – he’d found the secret. For the first time he was grateful for the cat DNA slipped into him. His cat was fierce, feral and dominating. He could match her passion for passion.
Without a word, he dropped to the floor, yanking her knees farther apart. She let out a gasping cry. He stared into her wide, shocked eyes, his hand cupping her sex, feeling the scorching heat. “Mine,” he claimed, making it another demand. “You are mine. This is mine and I don’ share well with others.” He wanted to make that point over and over so if she ever went into heat without him close she would know better than to act on it.
She swallowed hard. That wasn’t enough for him. Not nearly enough. He dragged her body to his, using her legs, keeping her wide open.
“I want the words. When I tell you somethin’, you answer me.”
“I didn’t realize it was a question, Wyatt,” she soothed, evidently realizing he was bordering on violence. “I want to be yours. Only yours.”
“No one else ever puts their hands, their mouth or their fuckin’ cock here, you got that? There’s only me for you. My hands, my mouth, my cock, you got that?” He snarled it at her, allowing his feral side to slip further out. Just the thought of her with another man made him dangerous. She needed to see that and to see that he would never, under any circumstances, allow her to manipulate him using sex.
He had hoped the wildness he’d been born and bred with combined with the enhancement of big predatory cat would make him the perfect partner for the biochemical rushing through her body. He’d been right. He could match her passion, take her all the way, drain her of the biochemical and leave her sated, even if for a small amount of time. For a woman who couldn’t be sated, who always was in need, it would be everything.
She swallowed hard, her gaze clinging to his and nodded silently. When he stared at her, his eyes beginning the change, she bit her lip and mumbled her reply. “Yes. I understand, Wyatt. Please. Please. I’m burning up.”
He didn’t wait. Didn’t give her any time. Her soft little plea affected him more than he ever wanted her to know. The heady scent of her, the beauty of her, sent him tumbling right over the cliff into such a heightened lust he’d never ever achieved before. He went willingly.
He lifted her sheath to his mouth, his tongue stabbing deep right into the hot vortex of sweet, honeyed cream the cat in him needed. She screamed and nearly bucked out of his hands. He held her tight, refusing to allow her to squirm away, his hold on her rigid. The moment he put his mouth on her, tasted the exotic, hot mixture of spice and honey designed to trap a man, he knew he was lost.
Her taste was addicting. He’d crave it for the rest of his life. Never get her out of his mouth or his mind. It didn’t matter either. He devoured her, blood rushing to his groin, filling his cock to a painful, needy very relentless ache. He feasted while she dug her heels into the old wood floor and tried to writhe away, gasping for air.
Again she bucked her hips, desperate, the sensations too much, but he refused to stop. In truth, he was already out of control, desperate to lap at the cream spilling out of her like molten gold. He gave her a warning growl, a hot, feral sound that rumbled through the small cabin, almost more beast than man as he greedily took what belonged to him.
When she didn’t – couldn’t stop, his palm smacked her buttocks, a second warning. That sent more liquid gold spilling into his mouth. Her little chant, please-oh-please-oh-please, rang in his ears, a kind of music to cut through the thunder already roaring in his ears. She was ready for him, wet, hot, her body clenching and spasming, so desperate for his, but he refused to take her over the edge.