Chapter 7 #3
But hurting him was by far the last thing on her mind now as she ran her tongue over the flat of his nipple.
She followed the stroke up with the scrape of her teeth, and she heard and felt his fist slam into the metal frame of the wall supporting the smart glass.
She smiled as she imagined what it would look like to a lab full of diligent workers if the glass were to suddenly fail.
For some reason, the thought only encouraged her to be even bolder.
She burrowed her hands below his waist, wrapping the fingers of both hands along the thickness of his length, her widespread fingers able to do, mostly, what her incompatible body had not been able to do last night.
She surrounded his thick heat completely, stroking over him boldly from root to tip, the movement repeating again and again even as her lips drew a line from his nipple to the crest of his shoulder, though she had to lift herself to the very tips of her toes to manage it.
Here she suddenly bit down on him, giving in to the sudden impulse to do so as powerfully as he had done to her, only she was missing the fangs necessary to puncture and draw up thick wells of blood like a female Morphate would.
But apparently that shortcoming made no difference to him.
His hands came into her hair roughly, their strength snapping her ponytail holder.
He gripped her head, holding her to the spot where she was marking him, making her stay until her less than adequate teeth broke his skin and touches of blood wetted her lips.
She should have pulled back, all of her training telling her to be repulsed by exposure to blood, but there was no describing how very opposite she felt.
There wasn’t much blood, but it was enough to taste rust and salt, and her tongue flicked against her lips and his skin.
She stood up straight and tall then, pulling her blouse back off her shoulder, stretching her hand against her shoulder until the skin broke open at the place where he had marked her last night, tempting him with a fresh show of blood.
It was an incredibly painful thing to do, but it was worth it for the fierce sound that overcame him, rumbling down through his chest and over the lips he suddenly pressed against the open wound.
She felt him holding back, though, felt him leashing the savage part of himself that wanted to bury his fangs in her again.
But she didn’t care. She didn’t need those gorgeous fangs in her again … all she needed was …
One lick. One long, hot sweep of his tongue through the welling blood. She heard him swallow, and a sensation of relief and excitement ran hot and cold in contrast through her.
God, forgive me … I need this …
Feeling suddenly free, she lifted his head from her shoulder and brought his lips to hers, kissing him so deeply she tasted her own blood on the back of her tongue.
She felt him flip their positions against the glass wall, felt it shudder as she hit it hard, but knew it was stern stuff and would hold up.
Maybe. Still, she wasn’t interested in his need to dominate.
Not just then, anyway. She slipped out of his hold and the trap of his body by dropping her weight, slinking down between the press of his body, the cold of the glass, and the sharper cold of the metal wall frame.
She heard his hand smack against the glass and the opposite one sank into her hair.
Kincaid was blind with need and he pushed his forehead into the cold brace of the glass wall, hoping it would somehow provide stability for him in a world gone mad. It was as though she had no fear of him at all! Didn’t she know how insane this was? Didn’t she know the danger she was in?
His only answer was the feel of her mouth around the head of his engorged prick.
She couldn’t know how hard it was for him to simply let her do that.
As amazing as it felt, as much as it made him burn with beautiful need, there was no part of the beast inside of him that was happy with the way he resisted all his urges to take command, to grab hold of her and show her his dominance, show her what her true place was in the grand scheme of things.
It made the feel of her mouth and hands working on him all that much more painful and beautiful.
The battle of man and masochist inside of him brought tears to his eyes, and he ejected a savage sound of pleasure and pretense.
He wanted to behave normally, as normal as she might expect him to behave, as normal as he had once behaved when he had been human.
But normal escaped his reach. He reacted instead with eager claws pricking into her scalp and gouging scrapes into the glass of the wall.
“You’re taunting a beast you don’t understand,” he rasped as he felt her tongue swirling around him, shaping all the dips and contours of his engorged cock head.
“I understand him enough to give him pleasure,” she said, her voice buzzing down his length in a tempestuous vibration that nearly undid everything he was trying to achieve as far as control was concerned.
But at that point even his beast’s attention had been fully engaged.
He was tumbling into the lost sensation of giving over his pleasure to the artistic control of another.
How long had it been since he had felt this sensation?
Too long. The truth was, ever since his change, he had used this kind of sex as a form of subjugating his mate of the moment.
It had been the only thing acceptable in those relationships.
But this was a very different relationship and a very different connection. The more he interacted with Jena, the more he understood that.
Need burned through him emotionally as well as physically.
He gave himself over to both, bracing his feet hard apart as her mouth coasted eagerly all over him, as if he were her favorite candy.
Her hands were both in play, wrapped tight around the rod she guided in and out of her mouth or palming the burning sac just beyond it.
She was doing a thorough enough job, to be sure.
The urge to come was crawling throughout his body, not just hot and low, but touching on every nerve along his back, his scalp, and even the backs of his hands.
Kincaid threw back his head and opened his mouth, but he kept the roar caught in his throat, some part of him wanting to protect her image in this, her workplace, where she needed to be respected.
But that was a human foible, and the next instant the Morphate reminded him that the roar would claim her, make very certain everyone knew she was his mate.
That would bring all the respect she needed.
But respect would also come with a bull’s-eye. Like him, she would be in a challengeable position. Christ, she already was.
The stress of the understanding was a harsh counterpoint to his orgasm, to the amazing feel of jetting hot and hard into her mouth.
He looked down at her as he did so, watching as the overflow of his come wetted her lips like an erotic lip gloss, and he knew he would taste himself on her when he pulled her up to his kiss.
Suddenly he could think of nothing else; so with two strong hands around her arms, he drew her up to the touch of his mouth.
He didn’t lick her lips, rather just savored the soft eddy of the mixture of himself and everything swollen and passionate Jenesis had to offer of her own essence.
He was breathing hard, his whole body torn and weak, his mind comprehending that this was possibly the only way they could find themselves sexually compatible.
And how very compatible they were.
But still, how much had he held in check? How much danger was there for her if he unleashed himself on her? He knew the answer to that. He knew he should back away. Create distance. He had planned on doing that when he had started his day today, but his logical mind had been thoroughly ignored.
“I want to take you on a date,” he said gruffly against her lips. “Screw this lab and this building. I want to take you out on a proper date, Jen.”
So much for creating distance. Well, fuck it.
She smiled, a snorty little laugh exiting her nose.
“A date? Like, going to the movies? Necking in the back of your car?”
“No, like taking you to the best damn restaurant in town, treating you like a …” Alpha mate. “… queen. Like the special woman you are.”
He watched her left brow rise up high.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you didn’t strike me as the type to like fine dining and opera. And while I do like fine dining, I’d much rather hit the movies after. Wow. I haven’t been to a movie since …” She broke off, her brow furrowing as she tried to think about it.
“Clearly too long,” he said with a grin. “And, yeah, opera sucks. So good food and an action flick. Or are you a chick-flick girl?”
“I love action movies. And chick flicks. I love them all.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Six,” she said, the affirmation muffled by the insistent press of his mouth.
“All right, then, let’s go kill us a lab tech.”
He redressed himself and fairly flew out of the door, leaving her just a little dazed and trying to figure out when and why their relationship had taken a turn from what bordered on abusing each other into legitimate courting.
All she could do was ask herself over and over again, When did he stop hating me?
And why would he stop hating me?