Wilder's Mate (7 page)
Authors: Moira Rogers
Tags: #Paranormal Romance, #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Western Romance
Her breath hitched in and came out as a quiet moan, so sweet and innocent it made the words that followed unimaginably dirty. “You can put your cock anywhere you like as long as you don’t come in my cunt.”
He delved deeper, slipping one finger into her. “What about my tongue?”
“Where do you want to put it?”
Wilder grinned. “Where will you let me?”
Satira’s eyes fluttered shut. One heel dug against the bed, pushing her hips up and forcing his finger deeper. “If you keep doing that, I’ll let you put it anywhere.”
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Moira Rogers
He leaned over her so his mouth was close to her ear. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while I tease you with my tongue?”
She turned her head so fast their foreheads bumped together and kissed him, hungry and desperate, and Wilder didn’t need an answer.
She liked kissing him, and he knew he could get her off plenty fast. He guided her tongue into his mouth and thrust a second finger inside her. Wet as she was, she was tight too, gripping his fingers as she made low, pleased noises against his mouth.
He forced himself to lift his head. “Nice and easy, right?” Moans turned to a whimper of protest as she dragged him back. “Don’t be careful with me. Want me.” And that was the heart of it, simple. Primal. Everything that excited him would do the same to her because what she really needed was to
be
needed.
Wilder pulled his hand away and sat up. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” Wildly dyed red hair fell around her face in a tousled mess as she pushed up to her elbows, looking flushed and debauched with her gown falling from her shoulder and her breasts all but visible through the flimsy, clinging fabric. “Tell me.” Not a command. A plea.
He brushed the hair back from her face. “I see a beautiful woman who thinks she’s plain. But you’re not, Satira. You’re gorgeous, and your body could melt a man in his boots.”
“I don’t want to melt a man,” she replied, nothing more than a whisper. “I want to melt you.” She had been, since the moment he’d dragged her out of the busted lift. “Then kiss me again.” The darkness couldn’t hide her trembling as she rose to her knees and hooked one arm around his neck. Her body pressed close, rubbing silk against his naked skin as she kissed him.
He kissed her until the blood pounded in his ears and she clutched at him hungrily. Then he tilted her back to the bed and distracted her with a quick nip at her throat and a tease of his fingers as he slid down her body.
Arousal made her shameless. Her fingers twisted in her flimsy nightgown and eased it up until it pooled around her hips. Wilder urged her legs apart and lay on the bed between them. “Relax.” She lifted her hips, straining up toward him in silent yearning, and he pressed her down to the bed. By the time he let her come, she’d be begging. “Touch your breasts.” Her eyes widened, but she obeyed, bringing both hands to stroke along the curves barely hidden by her nightgown, circling closer and closer to the peaked nipples without ever touching them.
He wrapped his hand around the inside of her thigh and watched her. “Your nipples. Pinch them, just a little.”
This time she inched her gown lower, off one shoulder until the strap lay tangled around her elbow and nothing protected her pale skin. Not from his gaze and not from her fingers. She gasped as her fingers closed on the tight bud, then caught his gaze. “How would you touch them? Harder?” 38
Wilder’s Mate
He shook his head and licked her hip, determined to seduce her with his words as much as his touch.
“I’d make them wet with my tongue.”
Without tearing her eyes from his, she lowered her hand until her fingertips brushed his lips. He closed his mouth around them, watching her as he sucked her fingers gently.
She liked it, that was beyond doubt. Her teeth sank into her lower lip but couldn’t hold back her sweet little yearning whimper. After a moment her hips twisted, testing his grip.
Wilder held her still and released her fingers. “I’m going to put my mouth on you now.”
“Oh…” This time her fingers brushed his hair, tangling in the short length as she whispered one more trembling word. “
Please
.”
He parted her with his fingers. She was wet already, slick with passion, and he teased the tip of his tongue slowly over her folds. “Scream if you need to. Don’t hold back.”
“Please, Wilder…” Her voice had gone husky and low, and her body moved restlessly, as if she couldn’t hold herself still. “It’s been so long since a man touched me. Waiting is a torment. Help me come, please help me…”
Fast wasn’t his style, not like this, but he drew the flat of his tongue over her in a slow, firm lick.
“Right now?”
“Yes!” Not quite a scream, but a satisfying exclamation.
Wilder growled, eager for more, so he dipped one finger inside her as he focused his attentions on her clitoris. In moments her restless movements shifted, gained a sharp eagerness that grew along with her whimpers. Then she gasped, and her slick cunt clenched tight around his finger as her body trembled.
“More?” He slicked his finger down to her ass, probing her tight, tense flesh. “Easy, sweetheart.” Her shoulders came up off the bed, her body propped on one elbow as she stared down at him with eyes glazed from pleasure. “Do you want to take me that way?” His cock jumped at the thought. “Maybe someday, but not tonight.” A nervous nod as she wet her lips. “I—I have heard there can be pleasure in it, but I’ve never—”
“There can be pleasure in a lot of things.” He pressed a little harder, and his fingertip slid into her ass.
For a moment she hovered, her lips parted on a silent moan. Her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back. “I want to feel them all.”
“First you,” he promised, his voice low, “then me.” He bent his mouth to her once more, determined to taste her release again and again before he let her touch him.
Satira lost count after the third orgasm.
She was feverish. Wild. Pleasure twisted inside her, dug into her and tossed her about until she found herself clutching at the iron headboard so she wouldn’t fly away.
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Moira Rogers
Wilder was insatiable. And wicked. The sound of her broken pleas must have been incredibly pleasing, because she was limp and trembling before he finally pulled his hands and mouth from her body and climbed up beside her.
“All right?” he asked, brushing her hair from her damp forehead.
How could he possibly be so gentle when arousal must be a torment? Satira traced her shaking hand down his chest until she found the hard length of his erection, hot and ready under her fingertips. “I’ll be better when you’ve felt a fraction of the pleasure you’ve given me.” He hissed in a breath and thrust against her hand. “You’re so eager.”
“I was always eager.” She released him and rocked up to her knees. The flimsy length of her nightgown lay tangled around her body, caught on her hips and falling from one shoulder. Without taking her gaze from his, she curled her fingers in the fabric and eased it up and over her head. “You make me shameless.”
He clenched his fists around the sheets. “How shameless?”
So shameless she was tempted to risk conceiving. Tempted—but unwilling to take the chance. Instead she dropped her hand to the hard muscle of his thigh. “What would please you most?” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Not trying to sleep with this hard-on.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you shy now, Wilder? Too shy to tell me where you want my hands or my mouth or any other part of me that tickles your fancy?”
“Want to hear the naughty words, huh?” His hand slid up over her cheek and into her hair, then closed tightly, pulling. “Put that sweet mouth on my cock and make me come.” Not quite rough, but his grip still commanded. She let him urge her head down, bending over him even though the angle was awkward. Scooting her hips toward the head of the bed helped, but she still found herself off balance, one hand braced against the bed between his knees, the other resting on his stomach.
Her position might be vulnerable, but there was power in taking him between her lips. He went rigid, whispering encouragement as she savored the taste of him with slow, lingering licks.
Far too soon, his grip in her hair grew almost painful. “I said for you to make me come,” he rasped.
“Stop teasing.”
The thread of desperation in his voice was better than the pleasure he’d given her.
Need.
In that moment he needed her as badly as she needed him, their mutual satisfaction assured.
Well, almost assured. She’d been bedded thoroughly and skillfully in the past, but never repeatedly.
Most affairs had lasted days at most, and a wide variety of experiences didn’t precisely translate to
being
experienced.
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Still, she had enthusiasm. Parting her lips, she took as much of his cock as she could manage. He arched up, groaning her name, and she shivered at the giddy pleasure of seeing a hard man undone beneath her touch.
She worked him until her own arousal had built again, then lifted her head and watched his face as she reached for his free hand. “Help me,” she whispered as she moved their twined fingers toward his cock.
“Tell me what you like. Show me how to touch you.”
Wilder wrapped both their hands around the rigid length of his erection and thrust up into their shared grip. “Harder.”
His hand tightened around hers, showing her what he wanted. A firm, rough touch, his hips driving with enough force to make her body weak. Too easy to imagine him taking her like this, the way he’d fill her so fully that no amount of arousal would diminish the sweet friction of a demanding claiming.
The ache between her thighs blossomed into a throb. She shifted her body and tugged lightly against his grip on her hair. When his fingers slipped free she sat up and knelt astride one of his thighs, one hand still trapped beneath his and the other smoothing down her body. “Would you like to tell me how I should touch myself, or shall I do what pleases me?”
He grinned, feral and hungry, and the muscles in his thigh flexed under her. “I can make you come just like this.”
Maybe he could, at that. A bit of squirming was all it took before his next thrust rubbed his leg against her so hot and perfect that her mouth fell open. It was hard to decide where to rest her gaze—on the large, rough hand curled around her own, or on Wilder’s face as he watched her, hungry and sure.
His hips bucked against their hands, and he groaned again. “Fuck.” The quickened pace and hard press of his thigh were too much. The tension trembling inside her twisted into an impossible knot, so tight and heavy she thought she’d go mad from it. She got out half of his name on a breathless pant before heat turned to fire.
Then she came, so hard and fast her toes curled and her body jerked. Her free hand smashed against the bed next to his hip as she struggled to keep her balance.
Wilder’s hoarse groan rose in time with her own gasping cry, and his fingers clamped down, jerking their hands up the length of his cock with frantic urgency. Another shudder rocked her body as his thigh clenched. She fisted her free hand in the covers and whispered his name, and he rewarded her with a shout and the hot spill of his seed across her chest.
His mouth crashed to hers in a kiss almost bruising in its intensity. His teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Satira.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Wilder.”
His chest heaved with a rough laugh. “That was hot as hell.”
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“Mmm.” She eased to the side until she was kneeling next to him, then straightened slowly. “I suppose I should be relieved you secured a suite with a bathtub for me.”
“Right.” His head hit the pillow. “Jesus.”
Satira traced idle circles on his chest with her finger, feeling oddly shy considering the sorts of things she’d just done. “You could come with me. If you wanted.”
“To the bath?”
Without the blankets, the room was too cold. She stretched out on her back beside him, head pillowed on his shoulder and her side tucked firmly against the warmth of his body. “Unless you like me like this.”
“It has its appeal.” He reached over and brushed his knuckles up her arm. “Come on. I’ll draw you that bath.”
Experience prompted her, a wisp of memory, from a cocky young bloodhound who’d gone wild at his own scent on her body. She caught his gaze and lifted her fingers and rubbed his seed into her breasts.
Wilder caught her wrist, guiding her fingertips to her parted lips. “The next time I come, I want to be in you.”
Her good intentions must be doomed, because she wanted that too.
42
Seventy-two hours passed in a blur of uncomfortable tension and unbridled passion.
By day Wilder haunted the inn’s common room, acting as her armed guardian and business manager.
He brought her books to while away the long hours in-between fretting about Nathaniel, and she did him the courtesy of pretending they helped. Nothing could stop her from considering all of the ways Nathaniel could be suffering now. Hurting. Dying.
In her worst moments she wondered if Wilder had any plan at all, but helplessness kept her trapped.
Even at her best, she was still a scientist. Not a fighter. Running off on her own would get her killed more surely than waiting, and Nathaniel would hardly be served by her death.
So she waited. She gathered her nerves every day, until Wilder escorted her downstairs in the evenings to be paraded about like a prized jewel to be won. They dined in a different establishment every night while men made increasingly elaborate offers that Wilder pretended to consider before taking her upstairs.
To bed.
Always his bed, though hers was perhaps more luxurious. But there was something meaningful about the moment she stepped through the dividing door, something that turned him from protective escort to a man hungry to possess her.
