Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(28)

"Jag," she gasped. His c**k remained pressed between her legs, but not inside her, and she tried to rock against it, but the thick length moved with her. "Oh, God."

"Beg, Red."

"No." But the word had become nothing but habit, now, and pride. Her body begged.

She needed him inside her. Deep, deep inside.

The pleasure kept rushing into her, turning her nearly mindless from the need for release from the building, swirling tempest. Her hips rocked violently, out of control, needing. Wanting.

"Jag."

"Say the words, Red."

"No." But the knowledge she would eventually lose this battle was all that kept her sane. She didn't know how much longer she could hold out, and the thought of her defeat brought nothing but a fierce, carnal joy.

His hands left her hips to cup her br**sts, at first simply playing with them, tugging at her ni**les, but then he pressed warmth into her there, too. The pleasure made her cry out, the fire of need flaming higher.

Again, he shifted his hands. As she gasped from the onslaught, he slid one hand between her thighs and pressed hard against her swollen center. Her breath caught and held, her body tensing for the rush of cataclysmic pleasure she knew would come.

But nothing happened. He simply cupped her, his hand unmoving.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"What do you want, Red?" he asked softly, his voice as full and aching as her body felt.

"You...to go to hell." She could hardly breathe through the exquisite anticipation.

He chuckled low. "You want me to stand up and walk away?"

"Yes." Oh, God, no. "Could you? Could you get up and walk away right now?"

"Get up, maybe. Walk? Not on your life. I'm not a liar, Red. I'm in pain. Your sweet little ass, your soft-as-silk skin. I can smell your need as rich as the sweetest cream. I want you, Olivia. And I know you want me, too. But I'm not taking you until you beg me."

"I'm not going to beg you."

"Yeah. You will." With that, he drove the pleasure straight up into her core. She screamed, and he pulled away, the orgasm shooting up, then crumbling, leaving her rocking with desperate need.

"Jag."

"Want me to do that again?"

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"No!" She wouldn't survive any more of this.

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Fuck me, dammit. Fuck me!"

"I thought so." He grabbed her hips and drove himself deep inside her, and she came, the release exploding with contraction after glorious contraction. Over and over, he thrust inside her, then out, then in again while he held her hips. Through his palms, he pressed that warm, lush pleasure into her, the unnatural heat melding with the natural pleasure his body gave her until she was gasping, coming and coming and coming while he released. Then again. And again.

Never had she known anything like it, and when he finally pulled out of her, she collapsed onto her side on the ground, utterly spent.

She pressed her arm to her forehead and looked up at Jag kneeling beside her, framed by the moonlit canopy of trees. His expression lay hidden in shadow, but she heard his own erratic breathing and sensed a disquiet in him that rivaled her own. What in the hell had just happened? He'd demanded her capitulation, yet seduced her with hot, gentle touches as he stubbornly waited for her acquiescence. Then he'd given her more pleasure than any man ever had.

The minutes stretched silently between them as their breathing slowly recovered.

Jag broke the fragile connection, rising and turning away with a scowl. "Get up and get dressed, Olivia." His voice was clipped, humorless, the gentleness gone as if it had never been. "We have a Daemon to catch." The voice of a warrior.

She stared at him, uncertain whether he'd given her a gift, in an unspoken promise to keep her secret. Or just latched a choke chain around her throat. She struggled to her feet, her body still throbbing, still slow from the effects of the Daemon venom.

Emotions battered her as she pulled on her ripped clothing. The ever-present fear that Jag only played with her, that the moment he had the chance, he'd out her. And the strange elation that came from a powerful sexual experience with a man determined to bring her pleasure. Incredible pleasure. A man she couldn't trust on any level and didn't even like most of the time, though, heaven help her, she liked his hands. She'd be lying if she said she didn't.

Dressed, she sat on the ground and pulled on her socks and boots, then rose and faced him.

He watched her from the shadows with an intensity she could feel but couldn't read.

An intensity that, even now, had her pulse elevating and quickening. Not with fear, though certainly she should be feeling that, too. But with desire.

All her life, she'd fought for control, yet that was the very thing he'd stolen from her.

She wondered now if she'd ever get it back or if her life were doomed to be forever cast into chaos.

Fate had closed in on her at long last.

Chapter Nine

On four legs, Kougar ran up the steep hillside, deep in the woods, until certain he was completely alone. He could have no audience for what he meant to do.

In the thickest part of the forest, he shifted back into a man and prepared himself for an encounter he'd long been dreading. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and looked inward, deep inside to the very core of the ice that had long ago stolen his ability to feel anything intensely. In that cold, cold center, he searched for, and found, the brittle filaments of a connection long severed. Focusing on those bright, icy tendrils, he sent out the call, a silent demand for an audience.