Retribution (Moonstruck Genesis #4)

Chapter 9

ANTOINE WAITED until Isabelle, Rudy, and Lightfoot left his territory. He suspected one of the men would linger on the edges as a sentry. It’s what packs did. The feeling of being included, of people who understood him, cared about him, who guarded his back was…invigorating. And a little frightening.

Relaxing, he eased back onto the bed and stretched out next to the woman. For her, he would give up all of it. He’d heard the others talking, knew he needed to discuss with them what her presence meant. But for this brief moment? He wanted only to hold her, wrap her scent around him, and when she was ready, to make love to her.

His dick throbbed and he shifted positions to ease his erection. He wanted to strip her, to hold her in his arms skin to skin. The man was patient while the wolf prowled just beneath the surface. The wolf wanted to claim his mate. It didn’t care that she had no memory, that she would be sore from her injuries. His wolf remembered the aroma of her arousal. She’d wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She stirred and murmured something. He smoothed her hair off her forehead and dropped a kiss on the soft skin he exposed. “Hush, mon doux bébé . You need to sleep.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because you are sweet and you are my bébé . Is this not a term men call their women?”

“Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?”

“Because you have?” He shocked himself at the flirt. He was not a man easy in the company of others. Being around the Wolves and their mates had helped, but he remained mostly aloof. Seeing this woman smile and knowing he was the one who caused it lightened his heart—and loosened his tongue. He kissed her temple and stroked her arm. “My heart, it knew you d’moment I saw you, bébé . For my kind, there is one woman an’ one woman only. You are mine.”

She pushed away from him just enough she could see his face. “That should creep me out, you know.” She studied his face before reaching to cup his strong jaw in her palm. “And from any other man it might. But there’s something…right about you. I should be upset because my memory is…well, hell. My memory…isn’t. That should be a problem. But at this moment in time, I don’t care. I only care about being here with you. Like this.”

“I want to make love to you, chère . But I do not want to hurt you.”

DJ glanced down her body and made a wry face at her bandaged feet. “As long as I don’t have to stand up…” She wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. Where did that suggestive voice come from? She sounded like a seasoned phone sex operator. But her borrowed boxers were damp, her breasts ached to feel his hands on them, and any inhibitions she might have once owned had fled with the appearance of this man.

With his palm on the back of her hand, he laced his fingers through hers. With a gentle tug, he placed her palm against his hard-on. His dick swelled even more and she inhaled sharply as it throbbed beneath her hand. “Touch me, m’chère . Let me touch you.”

Her mouth had gone dry with the feel of him and she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft without prompting from him. The swollen head peeked at her over the top of his worn jeans and now her mouth filled with saliva. She wanted to taste him. She shivered at the thought. Something told her she’d never felt that way before—about any man.

“Will you let me love you, m’chère ? Let me kiss you and taste you. Touch you. Fill your beautiful pussy with my cock.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. “I can smell how much you want me.”

His dick throbbed in her hand again and the head fully revealed itself. She swallowed the mouthful of spit, but still couldn’t talk. All she could do was nod. He rolled away and she gasped. She’d never seen a man move so fast, but he didn’t go far. He knelt beside the bed.

“Ah, chère ,” he murmured. He held her hand in his massive paw. Raising it to his lips, he kissed the back of it, his breath spreading across her skin like a fever.

Antoine studied her face as he turned her hand over. Looking deep into her eyes, he kissed each fingertip. Still holding her gaze with his, he kissed his way up her arm. He nuzzled her shoulder, and then his tongue traced the curve of her throat. Her breasts strained against the soft cotton T-shirt, her breathing ragged.

His lips tickled her skin and warmth flashed through her, as if her blood heated. Sex, for her, fulfilled a primal need, but this? This was more than primal. This was elemental, as necessary as breathing. She wanted and needed this man, needed what he did to her body, to her heart and emotions. How had she ever survived without him?

Leaning in, he nibbled her ear before skimming his hands down her sides to grip the hem of her shirt. He tugged it over her head and the shirt sailed across the room as he tossed it. Still, he held her eyes even as his calloused hands tenderly cupped her aching breasts.

Blinking slowly before leaving his lids half-closed, he shifted his gaze to roam over her. “You are perfect, doux bébé .” A wicked grin spread across his face. His hands continued to stroke her breasts before he cupped her again and traced her hardening nipples with his thumbs.

The boxers— his boxers—she wore were no longer damp. They were wet. Embarrassed by her body’s response, she pushed at his chest, for all the good it did. Her hands turned traitorous, molding against the hard muscles their palms encountered.

It was her turn to stare. His full lips curled at their corners. He looked smug, like he knew something she didn’t. DJ studied him as he’d done to her moments ago. This man lived and worked hard. His shoulders were broad, his arms long and strong. His muscular chest tapered to a narrow waist, and the muscles across his abdomen were taut. A feathering of hair, a darker brown than the russet on his head, sprinkled his chest. Just below his bellybutton, crisper hair dipped below his jeans. Curiosity blossomed. She wanted to follow that trail, needed to discover what treasure lay behind the buttons straining to keep him hidden from her.

She shivered, not from cold but in anticipation of what was about to happen. He read her assent in her expression. In moments, he’d stripped her jeans and his own. He stood beside the bed and once more the urge to take his raging hard-on into her mouth all but overwhelmed her.

“Not yet, bébé . I will pleasure you first because the moment your lips touch my cock, I will be useless.”

She giggled and clapped her hand over her mouth. She was not the sort of person who giggle.

“Lay back,” he commanded. “And spread your legs.”

Part of her chafed at his orders, but the deep feminine core of her couldn’t comply fast enough. He placed one knee on the bed next to her hip and bent from the waist. He all but buried his nose in her crotch. Antoine inhaled deeply and groaned as her scent filled his lungs.

He straddled her and, caging her shoulders with a hand placed on each side, he lowered his head. Unblinking, he touched her lips with his. Then he licked her mouth, the tip of his tongue tracing its outline before he kissed her. Firm lips, nibbling, tasting, tongue thrusting into her mouth to swirl around her tongue, teasing and demanding.

DJ’s skin felt itchy, tight, like she might burst at the seams if something didn’t happen soon. But what? What did she want? Him. Easy answer. She wanted this man. In her. On her. Surrounding her. Kissing. Touching. Awakening her to sensations she’d only ever dreamed about. She moaned softly and he caught the sound on his tongue.

Leaving her mouth, he followed the curve of her jaw to the hollow of her throat. He kissed his way down to tease her breasts, rolling her nipples between his lips, nipping and sucking until both were hard pebbles. Before DJ could catch her breath, his shadow-bearded chin rubbed between her breasts as his tongue swirled across her skin heading lower. He stole her breath away, and that dark chuckle rumbling in his chest proved he was arrogant enough to savor the fact he could.

His hands gripped her hips as his mouth found the silken skin where her thigh met the dark curls framing her sex which caught in his rough stubble. He settled between her legs, his shoulders parting her legs wider. He licked the seam of her sex and raised his head to gaze at her.

“You taste of sweet cream and almonds.” Before she could respond, he returned to devouring her. His lips sucked her clit. His teeth teased it. His chin parted her labia, rubbing across the tender skin as he enjoyed her. Still hungry, he shifted a hand beneath her butt to change the angle of her hips. A thumb found the hard little nub while his tongue delved deep into her vagina, lapping and thrusting until her breaths came in gasps.

Her inner muscles grasped at his slick tongue but couldn’t hold on. She wanted more. She wanted harder. She wanted him.

“Please,” she begged.

He growled. “Not yet.”

Antoine blew hot air across her clit as a finger replaced his tongue. Then two fingers, broad and long, but not enough of either to suit her. She pumped her hips against his hand, grinding and whimpering in her need. Muscles tightened, froze, and then spasmed as she fell over the edge into climax.

“Yes, bébé. Mon doux bébé magnifique .”

Sliding up her body, he settled his hips between her legs, keeping most of his weight on his elbows. Her hips cradled him like she’d been made for him, as he knew she had. She was his mate and he would claim her no matter what. His cock pushed and strained against her entrance, demanding access to the very depths of her being, even as his heart craved the joining of their souls.

“You are mine.”

Her eyes opened, their expression sated and dreamy. “Yours,” she murmured.

“For all time, Debra Jane. You are my heart, my soul, my very life. You are my mate.”

A very small part of her brain worried that she was in over her head, but she could deny this man nothing. Not now, and probably not ever. He’d said nothing about love, only that she was his for the rest of their lives. That should disturb her. But it didn’t.

“Yes,” she agreed.

He kissed her, savoring the plump fullness of her lips. His hands fisted in her hair as his cock pushed inside her. His kiss deepened, stealing her very breath. DJ gasped, tried to pull away. He was…it was…too much. Too much of everything.

Antoine tightened his arms around her, held her still as his cock sank into her all the way to the root. He lay still, savoring the feel of her slick heat surrounding him. He waited, as patient in this hunt as he was in any other.

Her arms eventually embraced him, circling around his back and stroking his hard muscles. One of her hands became entangled in his shaggy hair. Slowly, with great care, he moved inside her, withdrawing scant inches before pushing back to her cervix. His mouth and tongue teased her and then his body did the same. He pulled out again, quick, until only the head of his cock remained inside, kissed by her labia. He felt her clench in denial and she moaned. He sank in, slow, achingly so, only to do it all over again.

DJ began to move beneath him, rocking and arching to meet his thrusts. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and her inner muscles milked him, trying to keep him from withdrawing. His hands fisted in her hair as he drove into her again and again.

Antoine had never felt like this. He’d fucked other women. He was a Wolf. But he’d never experienced anything to compare to the emotions zinging through his blood. Possessiveness, yes. That, too, was a Wolf trait. Need was a given. He craved this woman—her scent, her feel, her taste. No other woman would ever touch him like this. She was an addiction and even as the man’s excitement grew, the wolf calmed. Curled up in the back of his psyche, his wolf was content for the first time in their lives.

“Home.” Yes. He’d finally come home. This woman filled and illuminated his dark shadows with light.

His balls tightened, drew up against his body hard and full. Desperate to fill this wonderful woman with his seed, Antoine quickened his pace. He was larger than most and had stayed gentle for fear of hurting her, but she’d opened for him, taking him fully within her body. Her little whimpers and gasps were an aphrodisiac to his soul.

Her nails raked across his back as she thrust her hips up to meet his. Harder. Faster. Not enough. Harder still. In. Out. Draw a ragged breath. He pulled her hips higher, and he drove in from a different angle.

“Yes,” she cried. “Oh, yes.”

This was what he needed. Her acceptance of him. Of his wolf. Her need became his. He exploded inside her, his hot seed pumping into her very soul.

“Antoine.” She breathed his name as stars exploded behind his eyes.

Her muscles clenched and pulled at him, milking his very lifeblood. Antoine felt the shudders radiate from her center as his own climax created wave after wave shooting out to the very tips of his fingers and toes, only to curl back and crash into the next one. Drained, he lay on top of her, panting. He kissed her bruised lips tenderly, then shifted slightly so he didn’t smother her, but refusing to give up the connection between them.

“Ah, bébé . I love you. And I am yours, as you are mine. For always.”