Slave to Sensation (Psy-Changeling 1) - Page 64

There was nothing tentative about his intimate kiss. Every touch screamed possession. The fingers on her thigh were hot and strong, holding her where he wanted her as his mouth ravaged her with a kind of rough tenderness she had no defense against.

She was almost insane with need when he nipped at her bottom with his teeth. "I'm sorry, kitten. I'm moving too fast but I want to be inside you."

Fast? He thought this was fast? What was Lucas's definition of slow? I need you. She was speaking to him on the most private of levels, not even thinking about what she was doing so easily.

She sensed him rise behind her, nerves taut with expectation. A soft scream escaped when he started to push into her. It felt like he was invading more than her body - he was going deep into her mind. And she wanted him deeper.

He surged forward in response to her silent urging. A sharp note of unexpected pain infiltrated her pleasure. "Wh-what? Lucas?"

"Shh. Never again." His lips kissed the line of her spine, distracting her with sensation. "You feel so good, darling, so hot and tight. Once isn't going to be enough."

The erotic whispers sent shivers racing across her skin. At the same time, the hand on her stomach pushed upward and she rose to press her back against his chest as he lay buried deep inside her. She felt the pulse of his heartbeat within her and it was exquisite, a carnal kiss unlike any other.

Reacting to instincts so old they had no name, she rotated her h*ps in a slow circle. His arm tightened against her stomach, enclosing her in pure muscle. The heat of his chest almost burned - it felt as if his body temperature was much higher than hers. One masculine hand rose to close over her breast, his fingers plucking at the nipple. Crying out, she moved again.

The hand on her breast slipped to clasp her hip. "Stop that."

She repeated the motion.

And felt the panther in Lucas take over. He pulled out almost all the way and then surged deep. Her body started to shake. Unable to remain still, she pushed back toward him.

His teeth closed over the curve of her neck, holding her in place as he drove them both to the edge. The hold wasn't painful, just so proprietary that she felt utterly possessed. It was a reminder that her lover wasn't human, wasn't Psy, wasn't controllable.

She adored him exactly as he was.

His hand slipped to the curls between her legs, finding the throbbing nub that she ached to have caressed. He knew perfectly how to rub, how to tease. Her scream came from deep inside her soul. In her passion, she reached back and scraped her nails down his biceps.

With a growl, he let go of her neck and began to move so hard and fast she could no longer meet him. Instead, she melted, accepting his hunger, his need, his claim, even as her body shattered into a thousand pieces, brilliant sparks of primitive color flashing before her eyes.

To her shock, Lucas pulled out of her. Before she could complain, he'd turned her in his arms and pulled her to sit with her legs around his hips. He was so deep inside her barely a breath later that she couldn't think.

"Open your eyes." A demand against her mouth.

She obeyed without thought. And met the glowing green of eyes gone utterly panther. "Why?"

"Fireworks," he whispered and took her lips in a kiss so hungry she felt consumed.

This time, his movements were deep and fast and unstoppable. She rode the storm, let him push her over again and again, let her wildness out to play. It was the most intimate, most dangerous, most wonderful dance of her life. When his muscular body shuddered in her arms and he let out a rough shout, she felt every feminine instinct she had moan in pleasure.

"Mine." That absolute statement was the last word he said in a long, long while.

They'd just finished breakfast when Lucas informed Sascha he was going to speak to Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha whom she'd never met, at least not while conscious. Vaughn and Mercy, who were also sitting at the table with them, looked up.

"You're on guard here," he told them. "I'm taking Clay and Dorian."

Sascha took a sip of tea and thought about what she was going to do. Returning home wasn't an option. Ever. After the night she'd spent in Lucas's arms, she could no longer keep up the pretence of being a normal Psy. Her shields were holding on the psychic plane but maintaining her mask in the real world had become impossible.

Then there was the fact that Lucas had marked her.

The second she'd walked into the kitchen, Tamsyn's eyes had gone to the bite mark on her neck. She'd thought the healer would be angry given what she'd told Sascha the day before. Instead, the other woman had grinned and said, "I bet you're starving."

So far no one had mentioned the screams. Or the long scratch marks on Lucas's arms. She'd nearly died when she'd come down to find him sitting at the table wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt. It was one thing to come apart in his embrace, quite another to have others bear witness to her utter surrender. At least he was putting on his black leather-synth jacket for the meeting with Hawke.

"Stay here," he ordered, though she'd made no move to leave. "You're not strong enough to hack the Net again even if we agree to your idiotic plan. Stay out of it. Rest."

He was right. Ghosting Henry had drained her more than she'd guessed. It would take at least one more day for her to recover enough to implement the plan. "I can only last another few days." The pressure inside her was intensifying minute by minute. "We have to act before then or they're going to find out about me and attempt containment."

Those cat-green eyes narrowed. "No one is going to contain you." He walked around to her side of the table and bent down to kiss her right in front of his people. It was no peck on the cheek. She gripped onto his waist and held on as he kissed her in a way that was blatantly sexual and possessive without end.