reath against her lips.
“I caught you,” he whispered.
Her lips parted as his touched, moved with his words.
“Or I caught you.”
Suddenly, it didn’t matter who caught whom, or if there was a head start, time to think or even a need for thought. His lips covered hers as his arms slid around her, pulling her closer, lifting her to him.
The taste of ambrosia filled her senses. It had to be ambrosia. The elixir of the gods. It had to be something not quite natural, because the taste of his kiss went to her head like a drug. Like a pleasure she couldn’t deny herself because she had waited far too long for it.
For Malachi.
His fingers cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head back as his lips slanted over hers, parted them, and pure heat swept through her senses. His tongue slipped past her lip, swept over hers and tempted her, teased her to catch it.
She nipped it.
He growled.
Strong fingers slid into her hair, gripped and held her head in place as he turned her, lifted her with his other arm and braced her against the side of the elevator.
His tongue swept past her lips again and stroked against hers.
And she nipped again.
Exhilaration surged through her. Adrenaline surged through her veins as his fingers moved from her hair, cupped her jaw and his kiss became firmer, more dominating, demanding.
He wasn’t asking permission. There was nothing exploratory about the claiming, nothing introductory. He was taking her with his kiss, with his tongue, and she knew what he wanted.
What she was aching for.
Her lips closed around his tongue, sucked with delicate greed as it pumped between her lips and the most unique taste, subtle and hot, filled her senses.
She couldn’t define it. She couldn’t describe it.
She wanted more.
A growl filled the air, a moan whispering around it as the kiss suddenly became hotter, hungrier. The arousal that had been brewing inside her became a firestorm, racing through her, tightening inside her.
This was hers. He was hers.
She’d known it the moment her eyes met his in the bar the night before, and she knew it now with his lips covering hers, his tongue pumping in her mouth and his hands pulling at her dress.
“Hell! Malachi. Honey. You have a room. Use it!”
Isabelle blinked as he pulled back from her. Flushing, she gazed around his shoulder to the elevator entrance.
Ashley stood, leaning against the elevator frame, holding the doors back. Fingers tucked into the snug pockets of her jeans, her blond hair falling over one shoulder, her eyes wide as she stared back at them.
Then her gaze slipped down and her brows arched. “Nice sandals there, Belle, but I think they should be on the floor, not wrapped around Malachi’s hips while you’re in the elevator.”
Around his hips?
Yep, they were around his hips.
He lowered her slowly. As her feet touched the floor, his arm went around her back and he all but picked her up and carried her from the cubicle.
“Nighty night,” Ashley called out as Malachi slid the electronic key quickly through the lock on his room, then pulled her inside.
His room was across from hers.
It was only a distant thought and it sure as hell didn’t matter. Because he was holding her again, pulling her to him, his lips moving over hers and spilling the taste of pure desire to her senses.
“I warned you.” Isabelle had only a second to understand the words that rasped from his lips before he was pulling the dress from her. “You’re mine now, Isabelle. Mine.”
As he jerked it up her legs, she might have heard a seam split and she really didn’t give a damn because she was all but naked in his arms and he was picking her up and bearing her across the room to the bed.
“You made promises,” she whispered as he laid her back then straightened before her.
“I made promises,” he agreed. “And I promise you, mate, I intend to follow through on every damned one of them. All day. All night. Possibly all fucking week.”
Chapter Five
So many nights I howled into the darkness, incomplete and searching.
Malachi stared down at the woman he knew he’d awaited all his life. The hours he’d spent pulling up every scrap of information he could find on her only confirmed the fact that nature had indeed given him a mate that suited him perfectly.
A small smile shaped her pouty lips, the sensual curve beguiling and filled with promise.
“Are you going to undress, Coyote Man?” she whispered, the husky need in her voice causing the steel-hard length of his cock to throb almost painfully.
Lowering his hands to the belt of his jeans, he would have unbuckled it, but Isabelle chose that moment to move. She lifted herself to her knees, her smaller hands covering his then pushing them aside.
Watching her loosen his belt, her graceful fingers releasing the latch then moving to the metal tabs of his mission pants, nearly broke his control.
His fingers curled as he fought to hold back, to keep from touching her. If he touched her, there was no way in hell he could hold back. He’d take her. He’d have her and there would be no stopping it.
That wasn’t what he wanted for her this first time.
Her first time.
His entire body clenched as she released his pants. Gripping the hem of his black shirt, he stripped it off, tossing it aside as Isabelle pushed the waist of his pants down and released the engorged length of his dick.
Male Coyotes weren’t like felines, who were sexually endowed more along the lines of their human counterparts. Wolves and Coyotes were another story. The width was unusually thick, and when they orgasmed with their mates, two to three inches at the middle point of the shaft would thicken even more, locking them inside their mates.
“Oh. My. God,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down the length, sending pulses of pure electric pleasure shooting straight to his balls.
“It’s okay. I promise,” he muttered roughly, pulling back only long enough to quickly unlace and pull off his boots and pants. Naked, the glands beneath his tongue swollen and aching as the mating hormone filled his mouth, Malachi found himself so desperate for her he could barely stand to breathe.
“I’ll never take it.” She sounded dazed as the scent of her trepidation filled the air with a subtle edge of innocence. But she came back to him, her fingers reaching for him once again, drawn to his hunger as he was to hers.
“All you have to do is want me,” he promised. “That’s all, Isabelle.”
He wasn’t going to explain it, he couldn’t.
He knew what would happen.
His alpha, Del-Rey, had explained it to the pack just after his mating with the coya, Anya.
“Malachi.” She swallowed tightly again, glancing up at him as her silken fingers trailed down it once again. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” And that confused her. He could see her confusion, he could feel it.
He wanted nothing more than to ease it. Later. He would ease the confusion and her fears later. Right now, the feel of her touch was too incredible to pull away from.
He reached for her. He cupped the back of her head as her fingers curled around the shaft of his cock. Not all the way, of course, her hand was too small, but enough to hold her steady as her tongue licked experimentally around the crown of his dick.
God, he wanted to fuck her mouth. He wanted to watch those pretty pouty lips enclose the head of his cock as he thrust shallowly in and out.
He exerted just the slightest amount of pressure.
“Take it, baby,” he groaned. “Open your lips for me. I want to feel my dick in your mouth.”
The hunger for it was about to make him mad. The need to feel her sucking the sensitive crest of his cock had his entire body tightening to the breaking point.
Her lips parted. Rubbing them over the engorge
d tip of his hardened flesh had his pulse rocketing, his heart rate slamming. His fingers buried in her hair, tightened and held her still. Her gaze lifted to his.
There was no fear there. There was excitement, an edge of confusion. There were emotions that filled his senses and he was also filled with the knowledge that he had waited for this his entire life. For this woman.
For her touch.
Then her lips enclosed the tip of his cock, and slowly, so very slowly slid down until the entire head was enclosed in suckling, wet heat.
A growl tore from his lips. He tried to hold it back. He wanted to hold it back. There were times that the presence of the animal was something he preferred to hide. When making love to pure, sweet innocence, hiding it was imperative.
But rather than feeling or scenting her fear, he smelled her excitement. Pure, sweet, sensual excitement that flared so hot, so brilliant he swore it was sinking into his pores.
The hormones spilled from his tongue as he swallowed, his gaze narrowed on her, his hands holding her head as he moved against her. Watching. Watching her lips stretch around his cock, tightening on him, stroking with her tongue, lashing against it and stimulating nerve endings that sent his senses racing.
She was pushing him to a brink he’d never known before. Each pull of her lips, each flutter of her tongue against the underside of his dick, had the glands in his tongue swelling further, tighter.
The hormone was flooding his system, intoxicating him. And he wanted her just as intoxicated. Just as bound to him as he was to her.
He pulled back, ignoring her attempts to hold him, to tighten her lips on the overly sensitive head of his cock.
Cupping her face in his hands, Malachi bent to her, his lips covering hers, his tongue pressing between them, pushing against hers, demanding, desperate.
Her lips tightened on his tongue, the hormone spilling into her, pumping from the glands as he took control of the kiss once again.
Licking, stroking, pleasure and hunger merged to spin them both into a furiously heated, blazing pleasure that gripped their senses and tore aside any trepidation, any confusion she may have felt. Any hesitancy he may have had.
As the imperative need to fill her with the mating heat eased, the need to satisfy the heat with pleasure filled every fiber of his being.
Laying her back, Malachi let his lips roam down her neck to the full curves of her breasts as she arched to him. His thumbs raked over the tips, watched them tighten and swell harder as a soft moan of pleasure left her kiss-swollen lips.
His mate.
She was lifting to him, arching against him, needing and hungry for his touch.
And he wanted nothing more than to give it to her.
Isabelle had known. She should have known. Where there was smoke, there was fire, her father had always said. The tabloids were filled with the stories of a mating addiction. A heat that human women couldn’t resist. One that bound the Breed male to her. One that created an endless, sensual feast for the couple.
That knowledge was a distant thought, a realization she couldn’t hold on to as Isabelle felt Malachi’s lips surround the tight, puckered tip of her breast.
She stared down at him, dazed, the pleasure she had felt before, with no more than the briefest caress, rising, becoming deeper, becoming something more binding.
The feel of his hot, sucking mouth tugging at her nipple was almost a pleasure-pain. Heat bloomed in the tender tip, radiated outward and rushed to her pussy, where her clit throbbed with violent demand.
His tongue rubbed against the sensitive point, then with quick, hard little licks flicked over it, lashing at it as a surge of pleasure and excitement sent fingers of electric sensation through her, clenching her womb and spilling her juices between her thighs.
She was so wet. So hot. She could feel the slick proof of her need for him as it slickened her thighs and swelled the folds of her pussy in anticipation.
Moving from one breast to the other, his lips played in exacting detail at the tight little bud. He sucked and licked, flicked at it with his tongue, and with whatever addictive quality she had tasted in his kiss, he sensitized her nipples further.
She had felt the swollen glands beneath his tongue as she suckled at it for those few brief seconds. She had tasted his kiss, redolent of a fire in winter with the spice of a summer rainstorm thrown in it.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as he released the tip, only to spread his kisses down her torso as his hands stroked to her thighs and parted them slowly.
Against the outside of her leg, Isabelle could feel the thick, heavy width of his cock and almost felt the fear that wanted to rise inside her. But there was no place for inhibitions as his fingers trailed higher, slid through the slick essence of her hunger then brushed against the curls that hid the swollen flesh from him.
His lips moved to her hipbone, then to the other before kisses were scattered to the sensitive mound of her pussy. His fingers tucked against the slit as she arched closer to him, desperate now to feel his kiss, his touch, on every portion of her body.
“Malachi,” she moaned, the dark, sexual tone of her voice almost shocking her.
His fingers eased down the narrow crease between the folds of her pussy to find the hidden entrance where her juices pooled with silken heat.
His finger rotated as he moved lower, lying between her thighs, his breath whispering over the swollen bud of her clit.
That tiny caress, like a heated breeze blowing over the too sensitive bundle of nerves. Isabelle found herself jerking in reaction, her hands slapping against the mattress to curl into the blankets beneath her.
His head lowered.
Isabelle watched, entranced, as his tongue peeked out and licked over the tiny pleasure point with devastating results.
“Oh God, Malachi,” she cried out, her knees bending and lifting, her legs parting farther as he drew her clit into his mouth and began suckling with quiet, hungry greed.
She had never done this before. She had never lain so open, knees bent and thighs spread, and given any other man permission to touch her intimately.
The fingers rubbing gently at the entrance to her vagina began pushing inside her.
His lips and tongue were torturing her clit with pleasure, and as Malachi begin to push his fingers inside her, she felt herself unraveling.
Two large fingers pushed in, twisting lightly, scissoring and stretching her open. She felt them rasp against the tender inner nerve endings and send impulses of pure pleasure racing through her.
Every cell vibrated with the rush of sensation. Isabelle could feel the sensations coalescing, tightening, threatening to implode inside her as he began thrusting his fingers shallowly into the snug opening.
She could feel the pressure on the fragile shield of her virginity as his fingers began stretching it, weakening it.
“Malachi,” she moaned again as one hand slid beneath her rear, arching her higher to his lips and to the finger penetrating her sex. “It’s so good. It feels so good.” She couldn’t keep it in. She needed him too much. Needed every touch possible with every fiber of her being.
He sucked her clit deeper into his mouth, his tongue rubbing against it now as the thrusting fingers began to move inside her with more demand, sending lightning-fast forks of sensation to tear through her womb, her clit and her pussy.
“Fuck me!” She cried the words out, desperation laced with demand, but she had no idea where they’d come from. “Oh God, Malachi, I need you. I swear I’ve needed you all my life.”
A growl rumbled against her pussy.
Her pussy tightened on the invading fingers as they slid free of her, then Malachi’s head was lowering, his hands lifting her closer . . .
His tongue pushed inside the dripping, juice-saturated entrance of her pussy.
Like an erotic fire, his tongue so hot, so wickedly hungry, Malachi began to lick and stroke, fucking her with rapid, hard movements as Isabelle felt her body tightening, felt
it bordering on mindlessness. A sudden, soul-deep implosion sent a cry racing past her lips as her orgasm convulsed her womb and had her screaming out in delirious ecstasy.
Isabelle couldn’t stop the shudders or the hard, racking spasming of her muscles as the sensations seemed to go on and on.
Malachi rose between her thighs then in a hard surge. As he moved over her, Isabelle felt the head of his cock tuck between the folds of her pussy. There, just pressed against her entrance, his cock throbbed and she felt a hard, hot pulse of what had to be pre-cum spurting inside her.
But pre-cum didn’t spurt.
Her eyes opened. Staring back at him, Isabelle felt it again, then felt a tingling rush of sensation that began invading the delicate tissue.
She had been horny for him before. She had been on the verge of mindless masturbation the night before, even after she learned that no matter how she tried, she couldn’t find release.
But now . . . this . . .
This wasn’t simply arousal.
As another heated spurt shot inside the swollen opening, Isabelle felt new sensations beginning to bloom in the flesh it touched.
She would have melted to the floor if she hadn’t already been lying down.
Pleasure increased a hundredfold, and as his erection began to fill her, to stretch the tender tissue to an almost unbearable tightness, Isabelle knew with utter certainty what the fluid was.
The heated spurts weren’t pre-cum, at least not entirely. Whatever it was, it allowed even the tightest flesh to accept this incredible stretch and penetration, and to find the most incredible pleasure possible in his possession of her.
Isabelle held her breath as she felt his muscles bunch and gather. He paused for a second, his gaze locking with hers.
“Just watch me,” he whispered, his tone rougher than ever before. “Just watch me, baby.”
He would have never attempted this at any other time. Malachi had never taken a virgin. He had never touched a woman who wasn’t well experienced and aware of what she was getting.
But his mate. Sweet, pretty Isabelle had no idea.
Moving over her, one hand gripping her hip, Malachi felt another hard spurt of the hormone-rich preseminal fluid as it filled her, no doubt triggered by the snugness of her pussy.
Rocking back, he let her juices ease his way, let himself become accustomed to her before he took her virginity. Before he taught her exactly how different Breed males were from their human cousins.
She was a virgin, he reminded himself as he pulled back again, his whole body on fire from holding back, from the slow stretching of the virgin shield inside her to accommodate a painless possession.
God, it wasn’t going to happen.
A growl, a groan of pure frustrated hunger passed his lips as he felt his hips push forward with too much force, with uncontrolled haste.
The width of his cock pushed past the thin membrane and surged only a few inches inside her.
Tight, tight muscles clamped down on his dick, flexed and rippled over the head as his teeth clenched and he felt like howling. Because he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell he could hold back now.
Isabelle arched with a cry as she felt both the tearing of her virginity and a pleasure that tore through her, wrapped around her senses and tightened around her body with incredible bliss.
Her sensitive inner tissue was clamped on the intruder penetrating it, the engorged head throbbing furiously as she felt another hard, heated spurt of the fluid erupting inside her.
Her muscles tightened further as the nerve endings came alive with excitement. Forcing her eyes open, she stared up at him now, watching the savage planes of his face as his expression twisted with remorse.
“So good.” She had to force the words out as sensation wracked her inner flesh once again. “Oh God, Malachi, it’s so good.”
His hands tightened on her hips, his lips came down on hers, and as he drew back, Isabelle knew he had finally given in to the need tearing through them both.
His hips began to move. His tongue pumped into her mouth as his cock began pumping between her thighs, shafting the delicate inner tissue of her cunt as it began flexing, clenching, fighting to hold him inside her.
Wrapping her legs around his hips, Isabelle tilted her hips higher, angling her body to his as she fought to separate pleasure and pain, and failed.
It was like being lost in a maelstrom of exotic, erotic sensation. Thunder and lightning crashed and clashed inside her body. Fingers of rapid-fire sensation, hot and extreme, raced through her, wrapped around her clit, shuddered through her womb.
Every stroke inside the depths of her body sent her flying higher as the taste of winter fire and summer storm intoxicated her further. Made her hungrier. Made the intensity of the sensations something to crave rather than to fear.
But no addictive kiss