Styx's Storm (7 page)

It was just a bit rough. Just a bit rougher than it should have been, just rough enough to send lashes of surprising ecstasy straight to her clit.

"There, Sugar." His lips lifted and smoothed over one nipple before kissing their way to the other, as the hands on her ass moved her against his thigh, rubbing against it with wicked, sensual mastery.

He was seducing her and she couldn't fight it. The insidious warmth began to burn its way through her system, igniting a flame she couldn't fight, couldn't deny.

Why him? Why this Breed when there was nothing she hated worse than she hated Breeds? Why did the warmth of him, the need and the aching desperation inside her coalesce to destroy years of hard-won control?

Because she was tired.

Because she needed just a few hours of warmth, of safety. Just a few hours to be a woman, even if she had to pretend he wasn't a Breed, but a man she could hold on to when the night was over.

Guilt would flay her when morning came. When her senses were working once again, then she would remember the horrors she had seen over the years.

But Styx hadn't been there.

"Ahh, Sugar, lass," he growled against her nipple as she stared down at him, his expression so sensual, so completely absorbed in giving her pleasure that it held her entranced.

She wasn't a virgin. She wasn't completely innocent, but never had a man stared at her with such naked hunger and complete absorbing need.

"Sweet as candy. As the finest, sweetest dark chocolate." A wicked smile, a flash of those sharp canines, and she should have come to her senses. Instead, her head fell back against the wall as he raked the blunt tips down her neck and one hand moved to her waist.

"Bad idea," she breathed out roughly as the snap and zipper of her jeans loosened.

"Ah, lass, the best idea I'm sure I've had in ages," he assured her with a groan as she fought herself onto her feet, only to find her jeans sliding down her hips. "I can smell your pussy, Sugar, sweet and hot and near to intoxicating me."

And that brogue was sliding over her senses with the same narcotic effect, just as his fingers slid farther inside her jeans to cup the bare, slick curves of her pussy.

Storme went to her toes, a keening moan leaving her lips as she felt a sensual explosion of pure heat whipping through her body.

The pad of his palm lay just over her swollen clit, sensitizing it further, holding her still in his grip as she stared up at him, terrified of the pleasure rising inside her now.

"We don't want to do this." She was going to hate both of them come morning.

"Sugar, we want to do this more than we want tae breathe."

She was in his arms, cradled against his chest, feeling more feminine, weaker, more sensual than she had ever felt in her life as he turned and carried her to the bedroom and the large bed waiting in the center of it.

As her back met the incredibly soft comforter, she felt her boots being pulled from her feet and, a second later, her jeans sliding from her legs.

Her panties were no barrier, and the sound of her blouse tearing was only a distant thought as he rose over her, his lips covering hers with a growl of pure pleasure.

His tongue pressed inside her lips, taking them as his fingers slid between her thighs and parted the swollen, slick folds of her sex.

Her hips arched. Agonizing pleasure ripped through her vagina, clenching it tight around the wicked finger that slid slowly inside. And stroked. Caressed without thrusting, rubbing against nerve endings so sensitive she cried out in brutal need.

Clenching her hands in the heavy strands of hair that fell over his face, Storme held him to her, desperate for more of the mindless, incredible pleasure building between her thighs.

She could feel the need whipping through her, that aching, intense lust, as it only grew between them.

This one night.

Tonight she would be a woman with a man she knew couldn't suffer for it when morning came. Coyotes wouldn't kill this man, and if the Breeds from Haven or Sanctuary learned of this night, then there was nothing he could say, no way he could know where she'd gone once she slipped from his arms.

"Yes!" The word tore from her lips as he pressed another finger inside her, opening her, stretching her as her hips writhed against him, driving him deeper.

"There, love," he groaned, his fingers driving inside her as his lips nipped at her neck, licked and sent flames coursing through her bloodstream. "You're so tight. So sweet you make a mon forget his control."

"Good, you stripped mine." Arching, neck tilting as his lips moved to lick at the area where it curved into her shoulder, Storme gave herself to the night, and the touch of this man.

He was a man. She refused to think of the extra genetics he held. God, she just wanted one night, one night of pleasure rather than fear. She just wanted to be warm for a little while before she had to run again.

As he nipped at her shoulder, her hands moved to his shirt, pulling, tugging until buttons tore and slipped free, allowing her to push the material over his shoulders.

She wanted to feel him against her. All that hard, hot flesh, muscles rippling, the strength of him honed and sculpted for pleasure or for pain.

Tonight, she would have pleasure. He didn't know who she was. He had no idea the gift he was giving her, the sheer warmth she had ached so desperately for.

"Sugar, you taste like heaven," he groaned as he shed his shirt, his fingers slipping from inside her as he rose to his knees to discard the material.

Storme rose to meet him, sitting up in the bed, her hands going to the leather of his pants and tugging at the heavy buttons that held the material tight along the length of his cock.

She knew Breed physiology. She knew the length and breadth of a male Wolf Breed's shaft. She'd seen it, as a young girl in the labs. Like animals, the Breeds hadn't been allowed clothing in the labs.

As she released him, she realized that she hadn't understood or considered the sensual aspects of that endowment then. As the heavy, thick flesh speared out from his body, she felt her pussy heat further, felt her juices flow between her thighs.

"Sugar, not yet." His fingers curled over her wrist as she lifted her gaze to him.

"Tonight's my night," she whispered back to him, feeling that determination as she allowed her fingers to grip the heated, iron-hard shaft.

Heated, throbbing and so hard. Her thumb smoothed over the tip of the head, easing away the light dampness that had gathered there.

"I shouldn't want this." Her throat tightened in sudden fear, the realization spearing through her that she might never forget this night.

"Why shouldn't you want this?" His fingers lifted to smooth back her hair as it fell over her cheek. "Why should ye not have all the pleasure I can give, love? And I know pleasure as you can never imagine."

Of course he did. Breeds were trained not just in giving pain, but also in giving pleasure.

"And what pleasure can I give you?" Compared to Styx, Storme knew she was as innocent as a virgin.

Her hand stroked down the length of his cock, feeling it jerk in her grip as his expression tightened and pleasure flashed in those bright blue eyes.

"Lass, you'll destroy me with pleasure at this rate," he assured her, his voice deeper, rougher as sensual enticement gleamed in his eyes.

The knowledge of seeing her effect on him did something to her. He wasn't lying, he couldn't be lying. She could see the truth of it in his eyes. She was giving him pleasure; he wanted her, ached as she ached, needed as she needed.

Moving forward, her tongue licked over the wide head, tasting man and heat, feeling it intoxicate her as her lips parted and sucked him inside.

This wasn't her, she assured herself as she felt the last restraint loosen inside her. This was the woman she might have been, the woman that perhaps she could have been if she hadn't spent the past ten years fighting to survive, to hide from the horrors chasing her.

This was the woman she had dreamed of being. In Styx's arms she had no fears of being disturbed, no fears of being surprised as the pleasure rose inside her.

Beneath one hand his abs tightened, spasming tightly as her mouth worked over the flared crest of his cock and sucked at it hungrily.

She could have sworn he pulsed in her mouth, a small ejaculation as the taste of spice filled her senses. She hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected that rich, male taste to infuse her, to drive her hunger higher.

Her fingers curled over the shaft, feeling it flex and throb as she stroked, sucked, relished each taste of him.

The feel of his hands threading through her hair, his fingers clenching in the strands as a hard growl left his throat, sent pure pleasure sizzling through her body. His fingers kneaded her scalp, his hips thrust forward, and Storme was certain she would explode from the sheer excitement of feeling his pleasure as she gave it.

It made her own pleasure rise higher, made her hotter, wetter, more desperate to feel him inside her.

A ragged cry pulled at her throat as he pulled back, forcing her to release him as he jumped from the bed. He shed his clothing quickly. Boots, pants, they dropped to the floor, leaving him gloriously naked as he came back to her, pushing her to the bed as he hovered over her.

His thighs spread hers, his fingers tested her readiness once again before Storme felt the heavy press as the wide head of his cock parted the folds of her pussy.

Instantly, hunger flooded through her. She thought she had wanted, that she had ached before. It was nothing compared to the need assailing her now. The muscles of her vagina flexed and shuddered as he began parting her. Slow and easy, he began working the heavy flesh inside, stretching and burning her as Storme felt a wash of dizzying euphoria begin to overtake her.

It was pleasure and pain. A burning, exquisite ecstasy that began to rise and build inside her with each inch that penetrated her.

Storme felt the width of the crest pushing inside her, the throb of it, a spurt of heat and then a blinding wildfire of pure pleasure racing through her.

Arching, she tried to drive him further as she felt her pussy clenching, milking the head of his cock as her juices flowed around it.

It was incredible. Blinding, delicious heat unlike anything she could have imagined as she gasped and stared up at him in dazed wonder.

"Styx," she whispered his name on a sob. "Oh God. What are you doing to me?"

"Loving you, lass." His voice was so deep, so filled with tenderness that for a moment, fear almost overwhelmed the sensations.

"What are you doing to me?" she asked again. Was this normal? She had never known anything like this, never felt anything like it.

Her thighs opened wider, knees bending, legs lifting until they cradled his hips, opening herself further to him as her hands smoothed down his biceps and back again. The muscles were tight beneath her touch, sweat sheening his face as she stared up at him.

"Giving you pleasure, Sugar," he crooned as he smoothed dampened strands of her hair back from her cheek. "Just pleasure, love."

"I was cold," she whispered, wondering where the hell those words had come from and why they were escaping her lips now.

His gaze flared. "Are ye cold now, lass?" His voice was strained as she felt his cock move deeper, felt it throbbing tight and hard as her pussy strained to accommodate him then relaxed marginally as another deep, heated pulse of semen ejaculated inside her.

A sob tore from her throat as the pleasure built, as the need for more began to throb inside her. It was like fingers of flames burning across the sensitive flesh.

"I'm not cold now." She could feel the whimper in her voice, feel too many emotions, too many fears threatening to flood her as with one final thrust he buried deep inside her.

"Styx." A sob jerked from her. "Don't let me think."

It was there, the threat of reality returning to steal this moment from her as the fear threatened to return.

These sensations were too unusual, too hot and striking too deep inside her pussy.

"No thinking allowed, Sugar. Sweet, sweet little lass. No thinking allowed in my arms."

And he wasn't lying.

Tucking her closer against him, he began to move again, thrusting strong and deep, as though each impalement was an exercise in restraint and control. His hips shifted, moved, worked his cock inside her, filled her and opened her until he was moving with harder, stronger strokes.

Storme wrapped her legs around his hips, her head pressing back into the bed, her nails digging into his flesh as the first cry tore from her.

He was fucking into her as though the hunger had the same hold on him that it had on her. As though he shared the pleasure-pain sensations and they were imprisoning him, locking inside him as they were inside her.

Each stroke pushed her higher, dug deeper inside her until she was crying out his name, her hips writhing beneath him as the need for release began to torment her, to claw at her womb and shudder through her pussy.

Each thrust raked his pelvis against her clit, stroking that little bud closer to release as she cried out his name and fought to find an anchor while ecstasy began to overwhelm her.

It was a hopeless battle. There was no anchor, no way to hold herself to the earth as her orgasm began to overtake her. Each hard thrust stroked her higher, driving deep as he fucked her faster, harder, a growl tearing from his throat and igniting that last flame that struck the fuel of rapture.

Storme felt herself explode. She felt that first strike of agonizing sensation before it overtook her and threw her so high, so hard, into a maelstrom of pure heat that she lost all concept of right and wrong, reality and fantasy.

She felt him above her, thrusting, heard him groaning, and a second later the heat of his release as it burned through her pussy and pushed her higher.

The sensations felt never ending, spearing through her, exploding in her clit, her pussy, across her nerves, and finally hitting her brain with a surge of the pure fiery waves of pleasure.