Zane's Redemption
Page 67
Instinct guided her responses. Portia greeted his masculine taste with a feral growl of her own, sending him an unmistakable signal that if he wanted surrender, she demanded the same from him.
Without giving her reprieve from his searching tongue and pressing lips, his hands slid around her back and down to her behind where he filled his palms with her flesh. In the next instant he hauled her toward him, his cock as hard as before with only his cold jeans as a barrier between them. A barrier she wanted gone.
She tugged on his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, and fumbled with the buttons. But she was shaking so much with the need that he’d awakened in her that her fingers didn’t find purchase.
Zane moaned, and the rumble sank deep into her core, heading straight for her womb, where it crashed against the waves that her body created. When he ripped his mouth from hers, she wanted to scream, to protest, but before she could, his lips connected with the sensitive skin of her neck, as she obligingly offered it to him.
A wave of white hot heat skated over where his firm lips suckled her damp skin, evaporating the remaining pearls of water from her shower.
“Zane,” she murmured, not knowing really what she was asking for, but certain that whatever it was, she wanted it. Wanted him.
“Easy, baby girl,” his husky voice breathed against her neck as his lips nibbled toward her earlobe and sucked the soft piece of flesh between them.
A painless bite stole her breath, making her breasts heave and brush against the cotton of his shirt, reminding her once more that he was still fully clothed. But she needed to touch him. Without thinking, hands curled into fists gripping the lapels of his shirt. One forceful rip, and all buttons went flying.
Finally, there was skin she could touch: warm, smooth skin. Hairless, just like his skull. Her fingers glided over his chest, where sinew and lean muscle flexed, and where his heart beat violently.
“Oh, God, Portia,” he groaned and threw his head back, his hands on her stilling for a moment. When she looked up at his face, she watched his fangs lengthen and the glow in his eyes intensify.
A thrill of excitement shot through her at the knowledge that she could reduce this man to a creature who only lived for this moment of passion and desire.
“I want you,” she whispered and felt her own fangs itch beneath her gums.
His eyes flashed with lust, and his nostrils flared before he dropped his head back to her. But instead of kissing her lips or her neck, he moved lower and captured her breasts, a word bouncing against them that she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.
Yet, it still echoed in her head: mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mine.
Zane would never give voice to it, yet the thought bounced around his head, forbidden and unattainable as it was. But just because he couldn’t act on it, it didn’t stop the wish from repeating again and again. Mine, mine, mine. Like a song on a loop it came around as regularly as seconds ticked away on a clock. With no means to tell his mind that he had no right to make her his, to claim her for himself, he did the only thing he could: he lavished her body with the passion that had been locked up inside him for so long.
His lips locking around one taut nipple, he swiped his tongue over it and relished the breathless moan Portia released. She was more responsive than he’d expected a virgin to be. At the same time, her responses to him were pure and unaffected as only those of an inexperienced woman could be. He found that it appealed to him more than the artificial moans and grunts the prostitutes and sluts he frequented played for him.
Every moan and sigh from Portia’s lips felt like a gift. And selfish as he was, he coaxed more of them out of her by sucking harder and working her other breast with his hand, squeezing and molding it in his palm. So firm, yet so soft, her body was a contradiction in terms.
Unable to get enough of her, he sank down to the tile floor and pulled her with him, laying her down on the soft bathmat. His hands roamed her body, exploring unchartered territory.
When he trailed kisses down her stomach, her head reared up. “Zane? What are you doing?”
It wasn’t an admonishment, but a question colored in surprise and disbelief. He raised his lids and collided with her intense gaze, her green eyes glowing with lust. She had to know what was coming. Even as a virgin, she couldn’t be that ignorant.
“I need to taste your pussy.”
Her breath hitched, and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal intensified.
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered a weak protest, but her eyes said otherwise. She wanted his lips on her, his tongue inside her.
Without giving her reprieve from his searching tongue and pressing lips, his hands slid around her back and down to her behind where he filled his palms with her flesh. In the next instant he hauled her toward him, his cock as hard as before with only his cold jeans as a barrier between them. A barrier she wanted gone.
She tugged on his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, and fumbled with the buttons. But she was shaking so much with the need that he’d awakened in her that her fingers didn’t find purchase.
Zane moaned, and the rumble sank deep into her core, heading straight for her womb, where it crashed against the waves that her body created. When he ripped his mouth from hers, she wanted to scream, to protest, but before she could, his lips connected with the sensitive skin of her neck, as she obligingly offered it to him.
A wave of white hot heat skated over where his firm lips suckled her damp skin, evaporating the remaining pearls of water from her shower.
“Zane,” she murmured, not knowing really what she was asking for, but certain that whatever it was, she wanted it. Wanted him.
“Easy, baby girl,” his husky voice breathed against her neck as his lips nibbled toward her earlobe and sucked the soft piece of flesh between them.
A painless bite stole her breath, making her breasts heave and brush against the cotton of his shirt, reminding her once more that he was still fully clothed. But she needed to touch him. Without thinking, hands curled into fists gripping the lapels of his shirt. One forceful rip, and all buttons went flying.
Finally, there was skin she could touch: warm, smooth skin. Hairless, just like his skull. Her fingers glided over his chest, where sinew and lean muscle flexed, and where his heart beat violently.
“Oh, God, Portia,” he groaned and threw his head back, his hands on her stilling for a moment. When she looked up at his face, she watched his fangs lengthen and the glow in his eyes intensify.
A thrill of excitement shot through her at the knowledge that she could reduce this man to a creature who only lived for this moment of passion and desire.
“I want you,” she whispered and felt her own fangs itch beneath her gums.
His eyes flashed with lust, and his nostrils flared before he dropped his head back to her. But instead of kissing her lips or her neck, he moved lower and captured her breasts, a word bouncing against them that she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.
Yet, it still echoed in her head: mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mine.
Zane would never give voice to it, yet the thought bounced around his head, forbidden and unattainable as it was. But just because he couldn’t act on it, it didn’t stop the wish from repeating again and again. Mine, mine, mine. Like a song on a loop it came around as regularly as seconds ticked away on a clock. With no means to tell his mind that he had no right to make her his, to claim her for himself, he did the only thing he could: he lavished her body with the passion that had been locked up inside him for so long.
His lips locking around one taut nipple, he swiped his tongue over it and relished the breathless moan Portia released. She was more responsive than he’d expected a virgin to be. At the same time, her responses to him were pure and unaffected as only those of an inexperienced woman could be. He found that it appealed to him more than the artificial moans and grunts the prostitutes and sluts he frequented played for him.
Every moan and sigh from Portia’s lips felt like a gift. And selfish as he was, he coaxed more of them out of her by sucking harder and working her other breast with his hand, squeezing and molding it in his palm. So firm, yet so soft, her body was a contradiction in terms.
Unable to get enough of her, he sank down to the tile floor and pulled her with him, laying her down on the soft bathmat. His hands roamed her body, exploring unchartered territory.
When he trailed kisses down her stomach, her head reared up. “Zane? What are you doing?”
It wasn’t an admonishment, but a question colored in surprise and disbelief. He raised his lids and collided with her intense gaze, her green eyes glowing with lust. She had to know what was coming. Even as a virgin, she couldn’t be that ignorant.
“I need to taste your pussy.”
Her breath hitched, and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal intensified.
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered a weak protest, but her eyes said otherwise. She wanted his lips on her, his tongue inside her.
