“I’ll not stand much more,” he groaned as she sucked the head back into her mouth and whispered a moan over the thick crest.
“Natalie, cher .” His thighs tightened against the need to come, his balls drew up in agony. With one last, slow lick, she pulled back slowly.
“I want to take you.”
Saban stared down, dazed, sweat forming on his forehead as she rose to her feet, her slender fingers stroking over his erection.
“I want to take you right here.” She toed off her shoes as she unsnapped her jeans.
“Here?” He swallowed tightly, watching as she wiggled from the snug denim like a fantasy present, unwrapped one slow inch at a time.
“Here.” Her smile was pure sex, pure need. “Do you have a problem with here?” She kicked her jeans free before reaching behind her and unclipping the bra.
The cups fell away from the firm, sweet flesh of her br**sts, and control was suddenly the last thing on his mind. Sweet, succulent ni**les topped the flushed mounds, and he was lost.
“Here works.”
Hell, he didn’t care where it was, as long as he was inside her, holding her, her holding him, a part of each other.
Saban sat back on the couch, watched in wonder and pleasure as she straddled his thighs and came to him.
His hands shackled her hips as he reclined into the back of the couch. She flowed over him like hot honey. Soft, saturated, slick flesh enclosed his c**k head, then by slow, agonizing inches took the shaft of his erection. Tiny, whimpering cries left her lips. Her sharp nails bit into his shoulders, and her dark eyes were nearly black in her pleasure.
“I’ll not last long. I’ll make up for it.” He was fighting to breathe. He could feel the sweat beading on his flesh, feel the wildness invading both of them.
“You can make it up all night.” She leaned into his chest, her hips lifting, dragging the tight, clenching flesh of her pu**y over his cock, and he lost it.
Who cared about control? This pleasure, the touch of her, the taste of her, the feel of her was all that mattered. Gripping her hips, Saban shifted and began to move inside her with hard, desperate thrusts. Nothing mattered but f**king her now. Fucking her so hard and deep, with such pleasure that she never forgot what it meant to belong to him.
Natalie was wild above him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Sharp little nails pierced his back as her teeth bit into his shoulder.
The tiny pinpricks of pain were nothing, more pleasure than anything else, but enough to tear away that last strip of control he had kept reined in. He gripped her hips harder, his c**k shafting into her with furious strokes as he felt her orgasm rip through her body.
He laid his mouth over the mark he had given her, his teeth scraping it as he gripped her flesh and let go his own release. The barb beneath the head of his c**k thickened, hardened, the pleasure-pain of it drawing a snarl from his throat as ecstasy poured through him. Sweet heaven, the pleasure of it. The feel of her pu**y against flesh so sensitive the agony was too much for him. He felt it pulse, throb, spilling more of the hormone into her even as he spilled his seed inside her. The barb locked his c**k in place, caressed hidden flesh, and sent them both hurtling into a brilliant, burning sphere of pure pleasure.
He would figure the rest of it out later, he promised himself as he bore her back against the couch cushions and came above her. As his release spilled inside her and the aftershocks of rapture tore through them both, he swore he would hold onto her, no matter the cost. Jealousy be damned, it wasn’t worth losing the faith she was finding in him. And it wasn’t worth losing the loyalty he could feel growing between them, a loyalty born of emotion and, he prayed, of love. He didn’t want to shackle her to him with sex. He wanted to hold her to him with love. Nothing more. ELEVEN
N atalie had tried desperately not to think about Saban or the emotions twisting inside her where he was concerned. She’d used frustration and aggravation, she’d tried to hide, and she’d tried to deny them. She’d wanted to deny feeling anything for him, because otherwise she would have had to face the fact that within a matter of weeks, less than two months, she had let a man steal a part of her heart that even her ex-husband hadn’t possessed.
And here she had been the one to promise herself she would never let another man affect her again. She almost snorted at the thought the next morning as she put on coffee and began preparing breakfast. Saban sat at the small kitchen table, dressed in his Breed Enforcer uniform. Strapped to his side in a shoulder holster was his weapon, to his left thigh a sheathed dagger. He would have more weapons hidden on him, she knew. Weapons she couldn’t see, weapons he knew how to use with deadly efficiency.
And why that brought her comfort rather than freaking her out, she wasn’t certain. She should have been frightened of Saban from the day she learned he’d be living in her home with her, following her, protecting her.
It was one of the reasons she had fought him so far, she realized as she finished the bacon, eggs, and toast. It was why she hadn’t wanted him here. Why she hadn’t wanted him to be a part of her life. Because she had known he would become a part of her heart.
And he was. Right there in living color, bronze muscle covered by the military-type black uniform with the Jaguar insignia on his shoulder.
She almost shook her head at herself as she poured two mugs of coffee and moved to set his on the table. Turning away from him, she couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t help but to let her fingers skim over the thick, black silk of his hair.
“Hey.” He caught her hand, his head jerking up, his gaze connecting with her in lazy awareness of her.
“You don’t have to try to sneak and touch me.”
He placed her palm against his cheek, turned a kiss into it, then went back to work on the small electronice notepad he had attached to the palm Internet link he carried. Natalie threaded her fingers through his hair, a smile twitching at her lips as he leaned into the caress, even though his brow was furrowed with concentration.
He didn’t mind being touched. And he didn’t think a light caress meant running straight to the bed as well. Mike hadn’t wanted to be touched unless he was ready for sex. She let her fingers linger a moment longer then moved back to the stove and breakfast. Strange, how easily Saban has slipped into her heart. She hadn’t wanted it, she had given it the good fight, but he was there.
She paused at the stove, felt the sharp blow to her heart, and realized she loved it. It stole her breath, when she knew it shouldn’t have. It shook her to the core, even though she realized she should have known all along what was happening.