Echoes of Fire (The Mercury Pack #4)(11)

His brow lifted. “Is your psychoanalysis supposed to put me on the defensive and make me back off?”

“I don’t give a tinker’s shit what—” A powerful cramp racked her stomach, and she doubled over. “Fuck.”

“You need to tell me what the hell is wrong, and you need to do it now.”

She backed away and forced herself to straighten. “I want you to leave.” She needed him to leave. His scent and proximity were not helping.

Bracken put a hand to her forehead. She was hot. Itchy. Snippy. Irritable. In pain . . . Ah, shit. “Touch-hunger.” How the fuck had he missed that? She doubled over again. Bracken swore and backed her into the wall. Her eyes flashed cat, and her claws sliced out. If he hadn’t caught both her wrists and pinned them high above her head, he’d be missing layers of skin now.

Keeping her wrists in place with one hand, he slipped his other under her top. “Shh, it’s all right,” he whispered into her ear as he softly stroked her stomach. “Breathe with me, come on. Breathe. That’s it.”

He could feel the cramps beneath his palm. They were so strong, he had no idea how she hadn’t crumpled to the floor. He also had no idea how she could be suffering from touch-hunger when she’d been in a relationship until recently. It didn’t make any sense, but now wasn’t the time to question her.

He kept on massaging her stomach and whispering soothing words into her ear, hoping the skin-to-skin contact would help, ignoring just how incredibly soft said skin was. Her cat either settled or weakened under the pain, because the fight leached out of her. His wolf rubbed up against her, wanting to offer comfort.

The strength of the contractions soon began to ease, but then something else happened—the scent of her need drifted up to him, potent and heady. It made his head spin and his blood thicken. Within seconds, Bracken’s cock was full and heavy, straining against his fly. A hungry growl rumbled out of his wolf, whose sole focus was her.

Bracken met those stormy blue eyes, almost groaning as he saw the glaze of need there. She was panting softly, lips parted, and all he could think about was biting down on that fleshy lower lip. Her breasts heaved with every ragged breath, drawing his attention to the creamy globes. Fuck, her nipples were tight little points, and they made his mouth water.

“Leave,” Madisyn rasped, embarrassed by her lack of control over her own damn body. The air seemed to crackle and hiss with sexual energy, and that was provoking the touch-hunger. “It’ll pass quick if you go.” And if he didn’t leave, she’d jump on him. She would. There’d be no stopping it. Not when she felt so empty and needy. “Leave.”

Bracken shook his head. “You need me right now.” He slammed his mouth on hers and sank his tongue inside . . . and he knew instantly that it was a mistake. Her taste—sweet and exotic—could easily set up an addiction in him. But fuck if he could stop.

Crushing her against the wall, he punched his hips forward, grinding against her clit, swallowing her raspy, cock-hardening moan. No one should taste this good. No one.

Releasing her hands, Bracken fisted her hair and angled her head, going deeper, taking more. Demanding more. She gave as good as she got—tugged on his hair, sucked on his tongue, bit his lip, scratched at his nape, arched into every rough glide of his cock over her clit. And he couldn’t deny he fucking loved it.

A voice in the back of Madisyn’s mind screamed that this was bad, that he wasn’t attracted to her, that he was just helping her. Pride dictated that she must push him away, but her pride was kicked aside by the need washing over her in waves.

His rough touch was just shy of pain—she liked it. Liked the way he ate at her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough. Liked the way he never hesitated or tested her responses. He just did what he wanted as if he had every right.

What she didn’t like was that he didn’t seem to be in any rush to make her come. He seemed to be busy indulging himself—pinching her nipples, sucking at her neck, squeezing her ass. It was both pleasure and torture, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

Sliding her hands under his shirt, she tried pulling him closer—it didn’t work. “Bracken.”

The note of command in her voice made Bracken growl. He snapped his gaze to hers. “Not done.” And then he yanked down the neck of her top, freeing her breasts, and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He snarled at the sharp prick of her claws on his back. He smelled his blood and knew she’d broken the skin. Marked him. It should have pissed him off, should have made him pull back. It didn’t. He sucked harder on her nipple, letting her feel the edge of his teeth.

Her hand tugged hard on his hair as her breathing sped up, and he realized she was close to coming. No. He wanted to feel her come. Bracken flipped up her skirt, snapped off her thong, and cupped her hard. “Soaking.” He speared two fingers inside her. Jesus, he’d never felt a pussy so hot in his life. It was like a fucking inferno.

He wasn’t gentle; that wouldn’t get her off right then. No, he roughly plunged his fingers into her tight pussy over and over, just as he wanted to do with his cock. She moaned against his mouth, gripping his hair as if he was the only anchor she had. His wolf urged him on, fed his need to feel her come all over his hand. And it was a need. He had to see and hear and feel her shatter.

As her inner walls started to flutter and quake around his fingers, Bracken thumbed her clit. “Come, Madisyn. Now.” Her head fell back as she came, clenching and rippling around his fingers. His cock throbbed, aching to be in her right there and then. As he looked at her bared neck, he couldn’t help it. He bit her. Hard. Tasted blood. Didn’t fucking care. He just bit down harder, and his wolf growled his approval.