Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(38)

His slave.

A fist clenched high in his chest. A single word flickering in his mind like a spark igniting into a tiny, fragile flame.

His mate.

With a growl, he reared back.

No.Hell no . He didnot think that word.

He shoved the thought aside, drawing the bitterness that lived inside him tight around him, like a rough, itchy, and all-too-familiar blanket.

Olivia met him with eyes half-closed and drenched in desire, her mouth open just enough to suck in tiny gasps of air, her lips soft and pink and infinitely lush.

His body tightened, demanding he claim that mouth as he'd claimed other parts of her. That fist high in his chest tightened, demanding he pull her into his arms and cradle her against his pounding heart.

But the thing that lived within him, that swirling, writhing mass of bitterness and bile, wanted nothing to do with either.

Driven by a need he could never fight, he flipped her onto her stomach yet again, released her wrists to grab her hips and wrench them high until she was on her knees.

With his own he spread her thighs and slid his c**k between them to stroke her swollen lips. "You want this, Red. You want me inside you."

"Yes, you jerk. You know I do."

"Say it."

"Fuck me, Jag. Fuck me!"

He pulled his hips back, positioned himself at the mouth of her sheath, and drove home. Her body enveloped him, pulling him deep.

She groaned, pushing her hips back against his, forcing him deeper as he thrust into her again and again.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"More, Jag. More."

She was already starting to rise. It was so good. So damn good.

Too damn good. The darkness inside him rebelled.

Driven by a need he couldn't explain even to himself, he pressed calming cool into her body through the hands on her hips, forcing back her heat and her enjoyment.

"Jag,what are you doing ?"

He didn't reply, for he had no answer. Only that contrary darkness urging him on as he thrust into her over and over.

"Jag, let me come. Let me come, damn you."

"No." As he continued to press the cool into her hips, her hot little sheath became tighter, less welcoming. Still, he took her hard until he reached his own blinding release. A release she didn't share.

The knowledge brought a small sting of satisfaction that quickly turned sour. Even he didn't like himself very much sometimes.

He pulled out of her and was about to slide his hand between her legs to bring her to orgasm when she drove her heel into his thigh, missing his balls by millimeters, then twisted away from him and off the bed.

She stared at him, a small pissed off warrior with fire in her eyes. He tensed, ready for her anger. But when she spoke, her voice was low and strong as steel.

"Every time we start getting along, you ruin it. Every time. You can deny it all you want to, but you don't like yourself. And you can't stand for anyone else to like you either."

Now he was the one pissed off. "Don't presume to understand me, sister."

But she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "The sex between us could be good, Jag.

Really good, and you know it. But you won't let it be, will you? If I'm not mad when it's over, you've failed."

He stood and grabbed her shoulders, his fingers flexing in anger, digging into her flesh. "You're my slave, Olivia, or have you forgotten that? The sex is for my enjoyment, not yours." But the words were a lie, every one of them. He loved pleasuring her. Loved watching the releases break over her. Why then had he denied her? Denied them both?

It had nothing to do with people liking him. That was crap and just proved she didn't know him at all.

"Let me make you come, Red. With my palm. A quick, violent release that'll melt you from the inside out."

She met his gaze with weary eyes. "Are you giving me a choice this time?"

Was he?

The bile inside him spread, nearly making him sick to his stomach. He released her and turned away, knowing what her answer would be. She didn't want him touching her.

"Go take a shower, Olivia. The others should be here in an hour."

He heard her turn and pad to the bathroom, her steps nearly as silent as his own. But her voice refused to be still in his head.

If I'm not mad when it's over, you've failed.

Bullshit. He liked what he liked, was all. Except, what he'd done had been intentionally mean-spirited. A new low, even for him.

So why had he done it?

Shit. To piss her off. Like she said.

He lay on the bed and stared at the water-stained ceiling as he waited for the shower to go off and his turn to go in. He suddenly longed for the hot, stinging spray of the shower to wash away the cold that had come upon him suddenly. A cold that he knew deep down would never be chased away by hot water.

Because this cold wasn't of the body. Olivia was stripping him raw, forcing him to feel the layer of frost that had long ago formed around his heart.

Chapter Twelve

Olivia stood beneath the spray of the hot shower, feeling emotionally battered and physically tied in sensual knots that had never been released. Because he'd fought to keep her from coming. And won.

The bastard.

He'd wanted her angry with him. Every time they began to share any kind of closeness, he turned back into a jackass. And yet she saw a loneliness in his eyes sometimes, a deep and desperate need for a closeness he fought to deny them both.