Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night (33 page)

She shakily nodded, drawing his fingers from her sex. Once she'd moved his hands to cup her breasts, she began working his cock head inside her. As she tried to take him, he could feel her body twitch and quiver, could hear the sharp inhalations of breath.

“
Deeper,
” he demanded. “
Take more.
”

But she couldn't seem to. “Oh, gods . . .” She was panting, undulating her hips on his cock.

All at once, the rain ended. The wind began to blow, rushing over his heated skin and clearing the clouds from the sky. Moonlight shot through the canopy.

He felt it like heat on his skin, felt it even on his shaft still waiting to plunge inside her. He saw the light bathe his mate's flawless skin—over the pure white of her shoulders, down to the riveting tattoo on her lower back, and over her plump arse as she rocked on him.

“Taste you.”

When she touched herself and lifted her fingers to his mouth, he seized them with his lips. Sucking her taste from the tips, he growled with pleasure.

“Bowen! I'm
going
—” The words ended with her scream as she began to come. He was just deep enough to feel her sheath squeezing him, her body greedily seeking what his had to give.

He yelled to the sky, instantly joining her. With just his cock head inside her, he pumped hot within her, shuddering with ecstasy to be filling her with his seed.

He was still coming . . . when the moon's hold on him became stronger than hers.

W
hen he threw his head back, Mari felt the vibration of his haunting roar tearing up from his chest to echo in the jungle. His ejaculation was palpable, shooting from the broad head wedged inside her.

Yet then the moon speared through the trees in a surreal silver, and she knew. Knew he was too powerful in this state to be contained by any magick she could conjure. And though he'd just come, he remained hard within her, his muscles still as tensed as before.

Mari had wanted intensity, ferocity. She swallowed and closed her eyes, bracing herself.

She was about to get it.

Seconds later, he broke from the tree, shoving her forward to her hands and knees. He reached over her to clutch her nape, then pressed her upper body down to the ground, pinning her there with his massive hand covering the back of her neck.

Holding her immobile, he slowly fed his shaft inside her, inch by inch, making her scream with pleasure.

When he was as far as she thought he could possibly go, he ground against her, his hips working, forcing her to take even more.

Seated so deeply, he somehow controlled himself, allowing her to grow accustomed to his size. Yet once she moaned for more, he wrapped both his arms tightly around her waist. He bucked once, hard and fast into her.

“Ah, gods!” she cried out. “Do that again. . . .”

He did, over and over, making her teeth clatter from the force, but she loved it, loved how unyielding he was, loved his rough beast voice wicked at her ear. “
Your sex is so tight
 . . .
good and wet. Want to be here forever
.”

When she reached back between their legs to caress and cup his heavy sack, he growled his approval. But then he seemed to force himself to pull her hand away. “
No' goin' tae
 . . .
make me come
 . . .
'fore I'm ready
.” He forced her arms back behind her. “
No stoppin' this, little mate
.”

This was the first time he'd called her his mate like that. If he'd accepted her as his completely, she knew there was only one way the night was ending. She could do nothing but surrender to the beast at her back.

Grasping her arms at her elbows, he drew her farther upright on her knees, then used his grip to pull her body down and back into each frenzied thrust of his hips. Her breasts quivered. Her skin was damp, and the wind rushed over it like a caress.

And it feels so good
.

She tried to free herself to touch him, but he held her elbows firmly. “
Need tae
 . . .
mark you. Mark you as mine
.”

Though she'd feared his bite, at that moment there was nothing she wouldn't give him. “Yes, do it!”

He hissed in a breath, his shaft pulsing inside of her as if with anticipation. “
Could no'
 . . .
please me more
.”

She trembled in anticipation as well. Would it hurt? Would she cry? But she knew there was no stopping this.
She'd signed on for the full experience. This step was her due.

He placed his mouth between her neck and her shoulder and growled loudly against her, alarming her, yet thrilling her. She felt his strong tongue lick her there—

Fangs pierced the skin. She screamed with pain, and with shock because a violent orgasm raged through her. In total abandon, she arched her back beneath him, spreading her knees and mindlessly writhing her hips for more.

Even as he continued plunging between her legs, he didn't withdraw his fangs, seeming unwilling to release her now that he had her like this.

Just when she didn't think she could take any more, she felt his entire body tense over hers. He snarled brutally against her skin, then came in a forceful, searing wave, pumping on and on.

He finally released his hold and collapsed over her, still slowly thrusting, as though savoring their mingled wetness.

“
Never lettin' you go
.”

*  *  *

“I need . . . to rest, Bowen.” Late into that night, her body was sore, utterly spent. “I'm not strong enough for this hour after hour. Please, just a little rest . . .”

“
Sleep
.” Without withdrawing, he moved them on their sides, with him spooning her. Still inside her, he reached his hand around to cup between her legs, pulling her close and holding her sex. Possessively.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she saw vines growing over her.
Witch, nature, good
. Just as she relaxed, she felt him tense beside her, dragging her even closer, throwing his leg over hers protectively. He leaned up to scent the vines,
hesitating. But he didn't move her, and his close hold on her meant he was enveloped as well.

About to drift off, she whispered, “It's okay, Bowen.” And he allowed it.

When she woke it was still dark, yet the vines were gone, as were the scrapes at her knees and her palms and the aches in her muscles. Bowen was stretching his body over hers, holding himself up on his elbows. She saw the image of the beast was beginning to fade, the pale blue of his eyes just starting to darken.

Cradling her face with both his big hands, he gazed down at her with such questioning emotion, she felt her eyes water in answer.

He pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, her nose. If she'd seen the beast in a frenzy of lust earlier, now she was seeing it praising its mate for sating him.

Then his gaze flickered over her neck. She'd caught him looking at his bite throughout the night, appearing both proud and relieved to have it on her. “Your skin's healed. But the mark remains.” His voice was returning to normal—yet she'd gotten kind of used to his beastly voice and raspy murmurs and was glad she'd hear them at her ear next month.

She frowned. Was she going to be with him for that long?

“Claimed you forever.”

Well, at least one of them believed so. And who knew what would happen between them? He'd pushed her to new heights, demanding her body do things she'd never known it could. The affection she'd begun to feel for him surged strong within her.

Who knew what could happen?

“Need you again, 'fore dawn.”

When she nodded eagerly, he reached down between them to grip his shaft, positioning it. At that contact, he threw his head back and she arched up to him, as if it were their first time joining. When he flexed his hips, gradually sinking into her almost to the hilt, he grated, “Canna get enough o' you.”

Slowing the furious pace of the night, he lowered himself to his elbows once more, easing down until their skin just touched. As he kissed her, he languidly moved over her, with a skilled rolling of his hips that fed his shaft into her just as his body pressed forward to plunge it so deep. Never speeding up his rhythm, he did this again and again until she was panting. Against his lips, she cried, “
Bowen
 . . .”

“I know my female's tone,” he rasped. Even when she could feel how swollen he was and knew he was on the verge, he gnashed his teeth, continuing the measured thrusts for her until she climaxed. With a scream into the night, she arched her back, squeezing her legs around his waist.

“Givin' me . . .
so much
!” He yelled out as his body tensed, motionless, before he bucked uncontrollably between her thighs. As she smiled from the rapturous feel of his heat pouring into her, he groaned in her ear . . . “
Mariah!
”

B
owe woke to find his arms empty of warm, curvy witch. This displeased him.

When he had trouble shaking his grogginess, he realized she'd made him sleep, had cast another sodding spell on him. Damn it, why? He scented the air to locate her, and shot upright.

She was gone.

Had he been too rough with her? Frightened her again? Why else would she run?

Then he saw an area just to the side of him that she'd very purposely cleared of brush. In the mud, she'd written him a note with precise letters.

Fuckhead:

The name's MariKETA
.

Go to hell,

The WITCH, doing a creepy spell somewhere right now
.

He sank back on the ground, throwing an arm over his face as he swore low. Had he called her Mariah last night?
Oh, bloody hell
.

Ach, Bowe, you've fucked up this time
.

She must be furious. Or worse, hurting. The witch had given him inconceivable pleasure, and this was how he'd thanked her?

He'd loved everything about Mariketa and the way they'd been together. The taste of her flesh was addictive, as was the feel of her wet little tongue lapping his skin as she boldly licked him all over. She'd bitten his shoulder in abandon, screaming against his muscles, and her nails had dug into the backs of his thighs as he'd taken her from behind . . . he hardened even now to recall that.

She'd given him the pleasure he'd waited for his entire long life. . . .

And I showed her my gratitude by calling another woman's name
.

When he removed his arm, he blinked his eyes. Above him, he spied his jeans and boots hanging in the upper limbs of a five-story-high hardwood.

He rose, determined to find her, to make her forgive him. And then, gods help him, they'd start where they left off last night. He scented the air and might have caught a hint of her toward the southern coast.

Mariketa had magically covered her tracks—and her scent—well. But she didn't understand. He didn't have to have her trail. There were only so many places she could be. He'd run back and forth to the coast a thousand times, and he'd relish every step as one closer to her.

He looked up at his jeans again and was startled by his own deep laugh. He grinned in her direction.

Ach, he liked the games they played.

*  *  *

“Lemme get this straight. Getting hunted down in the jungle by a lust-crazed Lykae was one of the safer extracurriculars of your trip?” Carrow asked.

“That's what I'm saying.” Mari adjusted the resort courtesy telephone against her shoulder, then took another
gulp of her drink—a bourbon rocks with a pink, paper umbrella.

In seriocomic fashion, she'd somehow gotten herself to a Belizean beach resort, then actually enchanted the manager until he was all too happy to extend a hotel-wide tab.