Chapter Eleven #4
“It’s not cowardice,” she insisted, the words having the softest of lisps because the anatomy of her mouth had been restructured and she was sporting deadly white fangs.
She was holding her chin up and looking him in the eye as she did so, as brave as she’d ever been.
“I … you’re human. And I am not. It is very rare for Morphates and humans to be well matched.
It … it takes a particular kind of human to be able to withstand what we are when we’re aroused.
Especially when aroused to the point that you have brought me to, Liam. ”
Logically and intellectually he knew that. He had known it every time he had entertained thoughts of having her when in a calm and reasonable moment. But he tended to forget all of it when he touched her. No. She wasn’t afraid. She was protecting. Protecting him. From herself.
But he had asked himself these questions already.
Dozens of times. In the secretive, speculating parts of his brain that had considered crossing the line with her, he had imagined what it might be like and had found himself insanely titillated by the thought of it.
But he had known for quite some time that his sexual tastes did not run toward the mild or mundane.
“And you didn’t think I had ever considered that?” he asked her with amusement poured into his voice as liberally as syrup onto pancakes.
“Well, I …”
He could almost envision the gears turning in her head, as well as the soft flush rising on her skin as she began to breathe a little more quickly.
However, he knew she would overthink, just as he would overthink if given enough time to do so.
It was intriguing to realize how much they had in common.
And if she was like him, then she worked best thinking on her feet and in the moment.
Liam darted forward to catch her mouth, kissing her powerfully as his hands swept down the front of her body, over her breasts and ribs and belly and around her hips to the backs of her thighs.
He roughly hauled her feet off the floor by sliding her up between his body and the solid press of her bedroom door.
The wood clattered in its frame as he did so, but all he heard was the ragged inhale of her breath as he wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Now I think I’m going to fuck you right here. Because I’m tired of waiting for it. And I know you are too. There’s only one restriction I’m going to put on you, Devon. When you mark me, as I know you will, don’t do it where my men will be able to see.”
Devon was not offended by the request in any way.
It meant enough that he was breaking all the rules to put his hands on her.
He wasn’t the sort to fly in the face of his own ethics easily.
That made the feel of his hands and the urgent press of his body all the more arousing.
Once her legs were locked around his hips, he gripped her around the throat with the left hand and pushed his right back between her legs where it had been before she’d thrown him off her.
“I’m going to make you scream until I see those fangs of yours flashing in the moonlight,” he promised roughly against her lips as he swept his thumb against her clit and boldly thrust two fingers into her body.
She was more than wet enough from their earlier play and he went in easily in spite of the incredible muscular resistance that greeted him because she was taken off guard and because, he imagined, she was Morphate.
Every inch of her was custom designed for strength.
And it only took a few moments of touching her to understand that every inch of her was designed for mating as well.
She came alive like something dormant suddenly granted consciousness. Her long legs gripped him, her body curved against him, and he felt the sharp bite of her strengthening claws pricking into the skin of his shoulders.
“Within the borders of a T-shirt?” she asked him breathlessly and a bit belatedly.
“That’ll do just fine,” he agreed as he began to work her clit and her channel at the same time, in an aggressive rhythm sparked by the arousal claiming him as her true nature was finally unleashed.
There was no longer any hint of passivity in her.
She grabbed onto him like a thing gone wild, working her own body into his touch, her breath coming quicker and quicker as she took an insistent part in her own stimulation.
It made him hard all over again and then some to feel her come alive like that, to discover all the promise of potential sexuality that he had seen fulfilled at last.
Devon growled raggedly against his ear, her whole body writhing, forcing him to bang her back against the door hard in order to keep them on balance.
She was gasping for breath, her head cocked back, those gorgeous fangs on wicked display.
Somehow the sight of them made her even more beautiful than ever.
Almost as if they had been missing all along, the last thing needed to perfect her.
And that was probably because on some level he had wondered where they were and how he could get her to show them to him.
Knowing Morphates as he did, he knew it would take either extreme violence …
or this. The height of lust and passion.
Her eyes, glowing yellow-green in the darkness, slid closed as she began to moan, punctuating that ever-persistent, underlying growl.
Devon had not felt this level of pleasure in so many years that it had been forgotten.
It had been so powerfully dismissed because she had chosen to live among humans and had lived a life where few could be trusted even to know what she was, never mind to bring this out of her.
She ought to have resisted even now. She shouldn’t trust herself or him.
It was an act of insanity. But right then she needed to be a little insane.
She needed to let herself run wild more than she had ever needed anything in her life.
And even though she had had couplings with other Morphates since her alteration those fifty years ago, none of them had attained the degree of intimacy and wildness that threatened her now.
She began the fall into orgasm as if she were falling off a bridge, giving herself over to it completely, welcoming the inevitable.
Liam let her fall, holding her securely in every other way so she didn’t have to worry about anything else but rolling back into her pleasure.
She shuddered mindlessly, amazed at what she was feeling, at the power of it even without penetration of her body, or her fangs.
She reached to grab the back of his head with one hand, the short spikiness of his hair crackling beneath her fingertips even as the long tips of her claws tapped against his scalp in a way that made an erotic shudder skip down his thick spine.
She was panting hard in his ear, feeling the ache of her protruding fangs and the savageness of her hunger.
Her tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of her mouth with the thirst she had for him.
For his blood. But she needed something else even more.
The hollowness of her body was exacerbated as he pulled his hand free of her and moved to make hasty work of his belt and his jeans.
In her haze of need she wanted to claw into him, forcing him to her and inside of her.
Forcing him to move faster to his goal. Then she remembered his only request for reserve.
There could be no marks for his people to see.
Liam felt her hand suddenly scraping down inside his jeans over his left buttock, her grip sharp and painful as she urged him forward, pushing the denim down and away at the same time. She would better be able to control her hunger later on, after it wasn’t so keen, but for now …
He was of no mind for slowness or patience either.
They’d danced around what they had really wanted long enough.
His cock in one hand and her weight supported in the other, he lined himself up to enter her.
All it would take was a single savage thrust. But there was something about holding on to this ferocious little wildcat, her nails digging deep into his backside and scalp at the same time, her breath chuffing out of her in staccato growls of demand that made him want to savor the moment even more.
“Do it! Fuck me. Do it hard, Liam, and fast,” she demanded in fierce little gasps.
He thought about toying with her, but he was fast reaching his own breaking point.
Rubbing the head of his cock all around her wet slit for a moment, dousing himself in creamy wetness, he then moved straight to the cusp of her vagina, nudged, and then in a great forward surge, he rent her eager yet resisting flesh.
That she wanted him there was no question, but he could tell with strange surety and immediacy that she had not seen use in quite some time.
The thought was fascinating and compelling.
It made him thrust harder into her, banging her back into the door and making her cry out.
His name. She cried out his name. He would never forget the sound of it in that animalistic growl, accompanied by the further press of her claws into his flesh.
The pain was a perfect sort of pleasure.
And it propelled him into one thrust after another.
Each one slamming their fervent bodies against that shuddering door.
He was risking their discovery with such noises and racket.
It promised to attract the attention of the guards walking the other levels of the house.
He reached out a hand to add balance to their weight against the door, pushing it steadily into thè jamb even as their coupling continued to bring them back and forth against the wood.
It didn’t eliminate the noise, but it brought it down several notches.
And it was a fix he didn’t have to concentrate on.
A fix he could use to bear into her harder and deeper.
She was tight and burned like fire around him, her body heat unbelievable.
He couldn’t give her but the briefest of hot kisses, his attention fully focused on other connections.
But she had little interest in kissing now.
She became undeniably fixated on his throat …
on the powerful pulse she saw beating there in his strong, thick neck.
He promised to be oh so delicious. He promised to be explosive and hot and divine.
But she had made him a promise as well, and she was forced to drag her attention down from the exposed length of his neck to the more easily concealable yoke of his shoulder.
It was a thick, meaty spot. As good as any, when it came down to it …
and a delicious access to a rich supply of the fevered blood within him.
Leaving the control of the thunderous rhythm he had chosen up to him, she shot forward like a cunning little serpent honed in on a perfect target. The perfect morsel to be devoured.
Liam felt her jerk forward, but it took a moment longer for him to register the sudden burning pain of being bitten.
His first instinct should have been to rip free, to tear away from the source of such piercing pain, but instead all he could feel …
all he could do … was come. The violent need to ejaculate was on him and beyond him before he could even think to control himself.
He threw his head back and gritted his teeth to keep from shouting the overwhelming pleasure out so loud that the whole of his protective detail came running.
He pinned her hard to the door as he jetted into her in long, scalding streams of release.
He was aware of her open mouth on him, the warmth of her tongue swirling over his skin to cup up the blood he was losing into her.
The sound of her swallowing was somehow the most erotic thing he’d ever heard in his life.
She was climaxing as well. The power of it trebling with every mouthful of Liam she took into herself.
She did not throw herself fully into it as she would have loved to have done.
A Morphate in true release became almost vicious sometimes, a single bite not always satisfying.
Their partner often surfacing with multiple bites and a body tracked with random, fervent claw marks.
But she knew she could only go so far with a human lover.
Especially when that lover wished to keep evidence of the coupling secret.
Just the same, she rushed with pleasure. Pulsed and clenched with it. Burning off her need and craving for him well enough to satisfy herself. Well enough to satisfy him. As she panted for breath, slowly licking at the worst of the wounds she had created, she found herself smiling against him.
“Jesus God,” Liam growled out against her ear, his breath coming hard and his big body actually trembling within the vise of her arms and legs.
Her smile grew wider. He felt the exposure of her teeth against himself and felt in his spirit just how well pleased she was with herself … and perhaps the situation at hand as well.
“I can feel the shit-eating grin, I’ll have you know,” he whispered against her ear, his own smile irresistible.
He seemed to have rediscovered the expression since getting to know her.
Not that he had been a sad or miserable person, but quite a serious one.
Given the nature of his job and his life and all the lives he became responsible for, it wasn’t any wonder.
But something about her had brought back his ability to smile, even so.
It was a daunting idea. The implications of which he wasn’t quite ready to sort out.
“Is there anything wrong with my being pleased with myself? Or with you?” she asked him coyly.
His smile grew.
“Not in the least. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He had never spoken truer words.