Chapter 8 #2
He didn't hesitate. He bent his head and took his first taste.
She was heaven. Sweet, salty, uniquely her. A groan tore from his own throat as the flavor exploded across his senses. Her back bowed off the desk, a shattered cry echoing in the small room.
"Oh god. Adrian, right there."
He then devoured her, his tongue finding her slick folds, circling her clit with relentless pressure, then dipping lower to taste her very core. He licked and sucked, learning her rhythms, drinking in every gasp and whimper. Her thighs trembled against his ears, and her hands fisted in his hair.
"More," she chanted, her voice ragged. "Right there, don't stop."
He had no intention of stopping. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them, finding a spot that made her scream. He worked them in a steady rhythm, matching the thrusts with the circling pressure of his tongue. Her internal muscles clenched around his fingers, a silken, tightening vise.
"Let go. Come for me, Riley," he growled against her, the words vibrating through her sensitive flesh.
The command in his voice and the unyielding focus of his mouth and fingers shattered her last restraint.
Her climax crashed over her. Her whole body convulsed, her thighs clamping around his head as a raw, broken cry tore from her throat.
He rode the storm with her, gentling his touch but not stopping, drawing out every last pulse and shudder until she collapsed back onto the desk, spent and shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
He rested his forehead against her inner thigh, listening to the frantic beat of her pulse, inhaling the scent of her pleasure mixed with his own.
His control hung by a thread, his own need a raging beast. But this, watching her come apart under his mouth, knowing he'd given her that—this was a different kind of power.
Adrian couldn't bear another second of separation. Watching her come apart had been exquisite, but it wasn't enough. He needed to be inside her, to feel her wrapped around him, to lose himself in the union his soul screamed for.
He surged to his feet, the movement desperate and swift. His fingers hooked into the waistband of his athletic shorts and boxers, shoving them down his thighs until his cock sprang free, thick, hard, and achingly ready for her.
Riley's warm brown eyes were hazy with passion, but they soon focused with sharp intent. Her hand darted out, her fingers wrapping around his length. The contact was electric, a bolt of pure sensation that made his hips jerk. She guided him to her entrance, slick and welcoming from her climax.
"Now," she breathed, the word a plea and a command all at once.
He obeyed, pressing forward with deliberate control.
He entered her slowly, an excruciating, perfect inch at a time, savoring the tight, hot clutch of her body.
A low groan tore from his chest as he sank home, fully sheathed.
Her head fell back against the worn wood of her desk, a ragged moan escaping her lips.
"Adrian, move."
He began to move. Slow, deep thrusts that made her gasp with each retreat and return. Her nails dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders, anchoring herself as he set a relentless, worshipful rhythm. The sound of their joining, skin against skin, their mingled breaths, filled the small office.
"You feel so good," she confessed, her voice fractured. "I've never… nothing's ever felt like this."
The bond between them, that invisible tether fate had woven, thrummed like a live wire in his veins, vibrating with her passion and his own. It was a symphony only he could hear, a perfect, resonant hum.
"The mate bond," he ground out, his hips driving forward. "It's singing. I can feel your pleasure like it's my own."
Her eyes flew open, locking onto his with a wild, desperate hope. "I want to feel that. I want to feel what you feel."
His rhythm faltered for a split second, his heart hammering against his ribs. "To feel the full intensity… I'd have to mark you, Riley. That's how the mate bond fully syncs."
Her answer was immediate, born of the same fire consuming him. "Then do it. I want it. I want to feel you completely."
Her words were a siren's call to the beast within.
He lost the careful, measured pace. His thrusts became harder, deeper, driving her up the desk with their force.
He felt her internal muscles begin to flutter, tightening around him as she teetered on the edge of another precipice.
His own climax coiled at the base of his spine, a tidal wave gathering power.
As she shattered, her cry echoing off the walls, his control snapped. His tiger surged to the surface. A growl rumbled in his chest, primal and possessive. The bones in his hands ached, his claws lengthening, sharp and deadly.
He stilled, buried deep inside her as her body convulsed around him. "I can mark you now," he rasped, the words scraped raw. "But it has to be as I come. Are you sure?"
Her eyes were glazed, her body pliant and trembling from release. "Do it. I want to feel you."
He leaned closer. His claws brushed her hip. This binds you to me forever. The warning was on his tongue. But as he looked into her passion-drugged eyes, a sliver of icy clarity sliced through the heat.
She was lost in it. Swept away by the physical intensity, the novelty, the overwhelming rightness of their bodies together.
She'd accepted his world with shocking bravery, but did she truly comprehend the weight of 'forever'?
The permanence of a bond that would tie her soul to his, alter her biology, and plunge her into the heart of shifter politics?
His father's face flashed behind his eyes—a warning of what happened when forever broke.
In that critical, suspended second, his rational mind wrestled his tiger back. He couldn't. Not like this. Not when she couldn't possibly give informed consent.
His release tore through him with the violence of a denied instinct. He spilled into her with a hoarse shout, his body shuddering, his forehead dropping to her damp shoulder as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over him. As the tremors subsided, he looked down at where his hand had been.
His blood ran cold.
Two faint, parallel lines marred the perfect skin of her left hip. They were shallow, but they'd broken the surface. A pale pink bloomed along them.
A half-mark. He'd stopped the full, deep etching, but his claws had still broken her skin in his moment of climax.
Shit.
He withdrew from her body, the loss immediate and hollow. He quickly yanked his boxers and shorts back up, his mind racing.
"What's wrong?" Riley's voice was soft and confused. She pushed herself up on her elbows, following his horrified gaze to her hip.
"I gave you a half-mark," he said, the words heavy with self-disgust. "I didn't mean to. I thought I stopped in time."
She frowned, touching the marks gingerly. "I told you to mark me. It's fine."
"It's not fine." He shook his head. "It's not the completed bond, but it's not nothing. It's going to change you, Riley. I don't know how, or how much, but it will."
Her brow furrowed. "Why didn't you give me the full mark, then? Why did you stop?"
The flicker of hurt and rejection in her eyes was a knife to his gut.
"Because you were lost in the heat of it," he said, forcing his voice to stay even.
"And this isn't a tattoo. It's binding your soul and your body to mine.
Forever. There's no undo button. You'd be tied to me, to my pride, to this life, permanently. "
He watched the words land, saw the passionate haze clear from her eyes as the staggering reality of 'forever' dawned.
"Forever?" The word was a whisper.
"Yes." He held her gaze, letting her see the absolute truth in his. "You could walk away, but the bond would be a phantom limb for both of us. And the political fallout… it would be a mess."
She sat up fully, pulling her clothes to her with a sudden, protective motion. The overwhelmed look was back, the one she'd worn when he first told her what he was. She looked from the faint marks on her hip to his face, her expression a storm of conflict.
"I… I need some space tonight. To think."
His protective instincts roared in protest. Letting his mate walk away alone, especially now, with a nascent mark on her skin? Unthinkable.
"I'll walk you home," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's late."
"I've walked home alone in the dark a thousand times, Adrian."
"You weren't my mate then." He finished dressing, his movements efficient. "You are now. Even with a half-mark, the scent will be different. I'm not taking any chances."
She let out an exasperated huff as she pulled on her own clothes, but the fight seemed to drain out of her, replaced by a weary understanding. "Even being your mate now, I can protect myself."
"I know you can." He softened his tone marginally. "But let me do this. Please."
With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her purse and keys. He followed her as she moved through the gym, turning off lights. At the front door, she keyed the lock and stepped out into the cool night air. He fell into step beside her, a silent, vigilant shadow.
God, this woman was stubborn.
And now he had a new, gnawing worry.
What would a half-mark do to a human?
She wasn't worried yet, but she probably should be. The only thing he knew for certain was that everything had just become infinitely more complicated.