Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(60)

“Gawain.” Her voice came out a whine. A demand.

“Yes, catling, it’s time.” He gripped his cock, set it against her entrance, and pressed—met the barrier—and mercilessly drove through.

Torn. The shocking pain seized her. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she bit back a scream.

He was inside her, huge and throbbing, filling her until she wasn’t sure she could draw a breath.

But…he didn’t move. Braced on knees and forearms, he kept his weight from smothering her. His gaze was on her face, a weight of a different kind. “Breathe, pretty panther.”

The order slid into her, and she pulled in a breath, then another.

He nuzzled her cheek, kissed her temple. His hips remained immobile.

Although her core still throbbed around the intrusion, the pain eased from burning to a mild stinging. And then the feeling changed… Her center contracted around him as her clit wakened again. She tried to rub the nub of nerves against him, to ease the craving.

His smile appeared. “Now you’re ready.”

He eased out. The tiny burst of pain disappeared under the slickly wonderful friction. Slowly, he slid in and out, each time moving deeper. Filling her fuller. Desire bubbled upward in an amazing broth.

“More,” she whispered. Demanded. Dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

He chuckled. “All right.” Gradually he increased the speed, and oh, sweet Mother, it was heavenly.

Everything in her body was celebrating the feeling of being filled and fulfilled.

Lifting his head, he looked in her eyes, reached down, and touched her clit.

As his finger slid over and around it, as his cock plunged in, pulled out, and plunged in, her center clenched, tightened, and exploded into overwhelming sensation. “Oh, oh, oooh.” Each wave hit the heavy shaft within her, setting off more and more detonations until she was drowning in an ocean of pleasure.

His erection grew thicker as he hammered into her, fast and forceful. Then his shaft pressed deep, ever so deep within her, and filled her with heat.

This time the rippling pleasure was so intense that it seared every cell in her body. His huge body pressed her into the ground, his cock filled her completely, and all she could do was grip his shoulders and shudder with the waves of sensation.

Sometime later, when the roaring in her ears lessened, she heard his rumbling laugh.

“What?” she mumbled.

“Thank you, sweetling, for sharing with me.” He moved to her side and grinned when she whimpered at losing both his weight and his cock. Taking her hand, he kissed her fingers. “I’ve never enjoyed being with anyone more.”

“Oh.” The warmth of his compliment was in an entirely different class from desire—and yet much the same. “Thank you for being so patient.” Would any other male have been as careful? As caring?

“My pleasure.” He kissed her slowly, taking his time, as if to show her he liked her as much after mating as he had before.

When he lifted his head, she ran her hand over his arm and, as always, was surprised at the hardness of the muscles there. “Now what?”

“Now we clean up in the stream, settle by the fire, and chat with the others.”

Why did she get the impression he wasn’t saying everything. Hadn’t he said a female took more than one male? She gave him a suspicious look.

“Easy, sweetling. You simply do what comes naturally. This isn’t a night where thinking will do you any good.”

Not think? That would be the day. She gave a resigned sigh. “All right.”

As he pulled her to her feet, she looked up and saw the moon glowing above, full and round and beautiful.





Chapter Sixteen





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Later that night, Tynan carried the small female away from the campfire. The moon had traveled far enough to shine fully into the small mating area.

Tynan laid Darcy gently on the soft grass and covered her with his body, sharing his warmth. This far up in the mountains, the nights were far too cold to be in a naked human form. Bracing himself on a forearm, he smiled down at her. Olive skin, black hair and eyes. He wondered if she had some of the old Romani blood that had come to the islands with the Travelers. Gypsies they’d been called in the old days. He’d met many when he was fostered in Ireland.

She set her hands on his shoulders, and her eyes were as dark as the night sky. “Tynan.”

“Yes, lass?”

“When does this stop?” She pressed her face against his chest with a soft moan.

Pity slid through him. Although her body wanted to mate, her mind was obviously in a tangle.

He understood, having spent the last decade fighting his own body, living in Seattle, rather than a forest where he belonged. “The heat will disappear at moonset.” A glance at the sky told him that she had a while to go. Gawain had said Owen would return, so the little female would have another male to see to her needs if she wished.

And for the next few minutes, he would enjoy satisfying her. She was small and delightfully built, fragrant with her arousal, and sweet, as well. He stroked her cheek, down her neck, and captured a firm, round breast. The way she arched into his hand made him smile. As he kissed her swollen, ripe lips, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Even if his schedule had permitted travel to Gatherings, he rarely visited shifter towns. Any law enforcement officer knew how easily a tech-savvy hunter could track someone through satellites, GPS devices, and street cameras. No one suspected he was Daonain, but that could change the moment he put a paw wrong. He’d leave no back trail to be sniffed out.