Burning Wild
Page 74
“Emma.” He said her name, no more. But it was a demand—a command—and Emma dropped her gaze to his pulsing erection.
She sucked in her breath, so aroused she would have done anything for him, so hungry for his body she needed him filling her mouth almost more than he did. She wanted the taste of him, the feel of him, scorching hot in the inferno of her mouth. It seemed so personal, the ultimate intimacy, a man’s woman caressing him and worshiping him, bringing him exquisite pleasure. And there was his face, harsh with lust, eyes brooding, as if . . . as if he needed something from her, something only she could give him.
Mesmerized, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue over the broad, dripping head. His entire body shuddered. His growl was sheer animal, a guttural, harsh sound that sent another orgasm rocketing through her. “Son of a bitch, Emma, fucking do it before I explode.”
He gripped her hair and yanked her head toward him. When she went to grip the base with her hand, to circle his shaft, he shook his head. “Put your hands on my hips and keep them there.”
Her heart jumped. She looked up at him. His golden eyes had changed to cat’s eyes, glowing with power, with lust, with need beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She felt the wildness in him and something in her leapt to meet it. She couldn’t help licking at the drops of pearls before he gripped her hair tighter and pushed his shaft, steel-hard and scorching hot, into the haven of her mouth.
His hips jerked, he gasped, his jaw tightening and his growl growing harsher. Her tongue curled around him in a lazy slide that set his every nerve ending on fire. The feel of her wet, velvet mouth suckling him was shockingly erotic. He had taken her twice and he still was as hard as a rock, thrusting into her mouth, trying to be gentle, knowing she was exhausted. She started to lift her hands and he growled a warning, keeping the control, heightening his pleasure even more.
Her sharp nails dug into his thighs, but she didn’t move her hands, didn’t move away from him. He felt the pads of her fingers tracing his scars, sliding over them, rubbing, caressing, sending hot arousal straight to his cock. Her mouth was eager, her small little moans vibrating around him, driving him crazy until his lungs burned for air and his breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. Everything in him tightened, burned. Every muscle, every cell, every nerve ending. Heat boiled, fire scorched, burned as he neared his explosive orgasm.
The cat wanted his scent all over her, in her, wanted every man that came near her to know she belonged to him and only him. And God help him, Jake wanted the same thing. It was as if he was so merged with the beast he couldn’t separate himself. He couldn’t stop the dominating thrusts, forcing her to take him deeper, the thrill and elation, the sheer pleasure rising like a tide at the sight of her—his woman. His. He had to mark her as such, there was no other way. Mark her with his scent, with his teeth, with his seed. His.
He forced himself to give up the haven of her mouth, dragging his cock free so that he could mark her, cover her with his scent and seed. “You’re mine, Emma. Only mine.” His harsh growl was one of brutal satisfaction as the hot spray pulsed all over her.
12
ABSOLUTE primal fury burned in Emma’s eyes when she looked up at him. For a moment Jake thought she might rake her nails down his thighs. They stared at each other, her green eyes glittering like two jewels, nearly all emerald, the irises almost gone. Shame crept into her expression. Color swept up her throat. She moved her hand to cover the bite on her shoulder as if it might be hurting. She stared at him a moment longer, refusing to bow her head, refusing to look away while satisfaction thrummed through his body.
Emma couldn’t sustain the anger as the rush of hormones and adrenaline faded from her body, leaving her feeling exhausted, humiliated and sore. Tears burned in her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the hand he held out to her.
“Emma.”
She stood on shaky legs, and when he stepped toward her, she stopped him with an imperious hand. “Don’t you say anything to me. I think you said it all. I understand exactly how you feel about me, Jake.”
“What the hell does that mean?” She tried to push past him, heading for the bathroom in the office suite. Jake calmly caught her arm. She was trembling. He brushed the pad of his thumb up and down her skin with stroking caresses, trying to soothe her.
She jerked herself away, her face stiff with pride. “It means go to hell.” She stalked around him, slammed the bathroom door and locked it. Let him find another shower. She hated him. He had told her that another woman had blown him a couple of times and then he fucked her. Well, she felt well and truly fucked. He had called that woman a slut and then he’d deliberately made Emma feel like one. Damn him. Damn her for giving in to her own raging needs. Damn her for loving Jake so much she couldn’t resist temptation. Just damn everything.
There wasn’t a place on her body, inside or out, that wasn’t sore. Her heart ached. Her soul wept. She’d given him everything and he’d totally humiliated her and had the gall to look satisfied. No wonder he thought the women he’d been with were sluts. He made them that way. She’d been that way—ready to do anything he wanted, anything to please him. She’d wanted desperately to please him.
She was sobbing as the hot water poured over her, great sobs that shook her entire body. She’d ruined her life. Ruined Andraya’s and Kyle’s lives. She had to leave, had to take her baby girl and leave Kyle behind. The adoption wasn’t final yet. She had no rights to him. She couldn’t believe how stupid, how selfish, she’d been, not thinking of her children, letting her hormones drive her. What kind of a mother was she?
She sucked in her breath, so aroused she would have done anything for him, so hungry for his body she needed him filling her mouth almost more than he did. She wanted the taste of him, the feel of him, scorching hot in the inferno of her mouth. It seemed so personal, the ultimate intimacy, a man’s woman caressing him and worshiping him, bringing him exquisite pleasure. And there was his face, harsh with lust, eyes brooding, as if . . . as if he needed something from her, something only she could give him.
Mesmerized, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue over the broad, dripping head. His entire body shuddered. His growl was sheer animal, a guttural, harsh sound that sent another orgasm rocketing through her. “Son of a bitch, Emma, fucking do it before I explode.”
He gripped her hair and yanked her head toward him. When she went to grip the base with her hand, to circle his shaft, he shook his head. “Put your hands on my hips and keep them there.”
Her heart jumped. She looked up at him. His golden eyes had changed to cat’s eyes, glowing with power, with lust, with need beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She felt the wildness in him and something in her leapt to meet it. She couldn’t help licking at the drops of pearls before he gripped her hair tighter and pushed his shaft, steel-hard and scorching hot, into the haven of her mouth.
His hips jerked, he gasped, his jaw tightening and his growl growing harsher. Her tongue curled around him in a lazy slide that set his every nerve ending on fire. The feel of her wet, velvet mouth suckling him was shockingly erotic. He had taken her twice and he still was as hard as a rock, thrusting into her mouth, trying to be gentle, knowing she was exhausted. She started to lift her hands and he growled a warning, keeping the control, heightening his pleasure even more.
Her sharp nails dug into his thighs, but she didn’t move her hands, didn’t move away from him. He felt the pads of her fingers tracing his scars, sliding over them, rubbing, caressing, sending hot arousal straight to his cock. Her mouth was eager, her small little moans vibrating around him, driving him crazy until his lungs burned for air and his breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. Everything in him tightened, burned. Every muscle, every cell, every nerve ending. Heat boiled, fire scorched, burned as he neared his explosive orgasm.
The cat wanted his scent all over her, in her, wanted every man that came near her to know she belonged to him and only him. And God help him, Jake wanted the same thing. It was as if he was so merged with the beast he couldn’t separate himself. He couldn’t stop the dominating thrusts, forcing her to take him deeper, the thrill and elation, the sheer pleasure rising like a tide at the sight of her—his woman. His. He had to mark her as such, there was no other way. Mark her with his scent, with his teeth, with his seed. His.
He forced himself to give up the haven of her mouth, dragging his cock free so that he could mark her, cover her with his scent and seed. “You’re mine, Emma. Only mine.” His harsh growl was one of brutal satisfaction as the hot spray pulsed all over her.
12
ABSOLUTE primal fury burned in Emma’s eyes when she looked up at him. For a moment Jake thought she might rake her nails down his thighs. They stared at each other, her green eyes glittering like two jewels, nearly all emerald, the irises almost gone. Shame crept into her expression. Color swept up her throat. She moved her hand to cover the bite on her shoulder as if it might be hurting. She stared at him a moment longer, refusing to bow her head, refusing to look away while satisfaction thrummed through his body.
Emma couldn’t sustain the anger as the rush of hormones and adrenaline faded from her body, leaving her feeling exhausted, humiliated and sore. Tears burned in her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the hand he held out to her.
“Emma.”
She stood on shaky legs, and when he stepped toward her, she stopped him with an imperious hand. “Don’t you say anything to me. I think you said it all. I understand exactly how you feel about me, Jake.”
“What the hell does that mean?” She tried to push past him, heading for the bathroom in the office suite. Jake calmly caught her arm. She was trembling. He brushed the pad of his thumb up and down her skin with stroking caresses, trying to soothe her.
She jerked herself away, her face stiff with pride. “It means go to hell.” She stalked around him, slammed the bathroom door and locked it. Let him find another shower. She hated him. He had told her that another woman had blown him a couple of times and then he fucked her. Well, she felt well and truly fucked. He had called that woman a slut and then he’d deliberately made Emma feel like one. Damn him. Damn her for giving in to her own raging needs. Damn her for loving Jake so much she couldn’t resist temptation. Just damn everything.
There wasn’t a place on her body, inside or out, that wasn’t sore. Her heart ached. Her soul wept. She’d given him everything and he’d totally humiliated her and had the gall to look satisfied. No wonder he thought the women he’d been with were sluts. He made them that way. She’d been that way—ready to do anything he wanted, anything to please him. She’d wanted desperately to please him.
She was sobbing as the hot water poured over her, great sobs that shook her entire body. She’d ruined her life. Ruined Andraya’s and Kyle’s lives. She had to leave, had to take her baby girl and leave Kyle behind. The adoption wasn’t final yet. She had no rights to him. She couldn’t believe how stupid, how selfish, she’d been, not thinking of her children, letting her hormones drive her. What kind of a mother was she?
