Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(66)

Bracing himself on one arm, he slid his other hand down her pelvis and over her clit.

The intense burst of pleasure was shocking, and she clenched around his cock, making him groan. His fingers never stopped, circling her clit, teasing over it, even as he continued the slow in-and-out. The pressure within wound tighter and tighter. Her body drew to a razor’s edge, and she hung there, quivering.

Then he gripped her hips with both hands and his thrusts grew deeper as he took her, hard and fast. Within seconds, the rhythm took her over, pushing her ever higher, and then…then everything inside her convulsed, shattering her with overwhelming pleasure as she spasmed around his cock.


Owen watched the little cat’s back bow with her release—so fucking beautiful—and he kept thrusting, keeping her going until the clenching around his cock began to slow.

Then he let his body take over, and he hammered into her with short fast strokes as the pressure built at the base of his spine, until his balls were drawn up so painfully taut that he wanted to bellow out his need. With the last thrust, he pressed deep, deeper, and released. The heat streamed out his balls, through his cock, filling the little cat with his seed.

For the first time, he hoped his seed would find a home. He wanted to see her belly swelling with his cub. Wanted to—By the God, what was he thinking?

He shook the wayward thoughts out of his head and leaned down to kiss her hair.

She was trembling, panting, and her heart was pounding so vigorously he could almost hear it. The new shifter’d had two days of running as a cat, then an entire night of mating. Talk about being exhausted.

“Poor kitten,” he murmured, straightening and running his hands over her back. The feeling of the scars from where she’d been whipped flattened his mouth. By the God, he’d see that never happened again.

He frowned as he eased himself out of her. When she started to fall forward, he gently rolled her onto her side. She was half-asleep, and he should get her back to the fire. The moon had set. She could rest now.

But… He’d heard some females, after mating, some wanted to be held. He’d never… And yet…

He lay down behind her and pulled her back against his chest, curling around her to keep her warm, to protect her…to show her that she wasn’t alone.

When she sighed and wrapped her hands around his forearms, keeping him close, a tiny sprig of contentment uncurled inside his chest.





Chapter Seventeen





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In the backseat of Gawain’s car, Darcy sat with her knees against her chest, staring out the window, and trying to understand her life.

Earlier, she’d walked out with the males to where they’d hidden their clothing. Gawain had dashed ahead and fetched spare clothing from his car for her to wear.

Donal and Tynan had left.

Dressed in Gawain’s clothes, she was riding back to Cold Creek with him and Owen. Although Owen had offered her the front seat, Darcy had climbed into the back, because she wasn’t supposed to be in a car or really, in human form outside of Cold Creek. Was this how a criminal would feel?

She sighed. Life was sure strange. And uncomfortable.

Every time she looked toward the front, Gawain’s eyes in the rearview mirror caught hers. Even in a mirror, his intense gaze was piercing, and she remembered the way his hands had felt on her body, the thickness of his shaft, how the muskiness of his scent had increased with his lust.

Her face turned hot with her flush, and she turned her head to stare out the side window again.

Four males. She’d mated with four males last night.

Donal had been gentle and kind, Tynan more…bossy. She was fond of them both, but if there hadn’t been a full moon drowning her in overwhelming need, she wouldn’t have mated with them.

Gawain, though. Oh, she cared for him too much, under the full moon or not. When he talked with her, looked at her, touched her—it was the same as being plugged into an electrical socket, full of sizzle and heat.

He was fun. Caring. Gentle, yet he had an unsettling core of strength. He matched his cahir blades—beautiful, smooth, balanced perfectly—and deadly sharp. She loved how he’d laughed, eyes dancing with enjoyment of life, even as he mated her so very…thoroughly.

In the passenger seat, Owen turned to look at her, and his dark green gaze ran over her like a firm caress.

He was vastly different from his brother.

Had she ever met anyone so difficult to understand? Still, he’d been open with her. Honest and blunt and…kind.

He was also extremely dominant. If he were a wolf, he’d be the pack alpha. Last night, he’d told her what would happen, what he’d do…what she’d do. And he’d followed through. He hadn’t been cruel—on the contrary—but firm with an edgy roughness, and very demanding.

Why did she have to like him so much?

Be honest, timid tinker. She more than liked him and Gawain, even though they were nothing resembling the males she’d daydreamed about as a child. Her fantasy lifemates had been sweet, gentle, funny. Tall and slender. Not huge and muscular.

Certainly not blunt or deadly or…she smiled slightly…grumpy.

As a cub, she sure hadn’t thought about the fact lifemates would…mate. Let alone might make love to their female at the same time.

At the thought of Owen’s rough hands and Gawain’s slow, very thorough touch, warmth rolled up into her cheeks and pooled in her body. Oh no, what was she thinking? She could smell how her own body was reacting, which meant the males could scent her arousal as well. She closed her eyes in humiliation.