“You said you made lists?” she asked then.
He smiled slowly. “I made many lists, pretty girl, and all on exactly how many ways I intended to please you.”
“So please me, Breed,” she whispered heatedly. “Show me everything I’ve been missing.”
It sounded like a dare, a brazen challenge. But he heard the desperation in her voice, saw it in her eyes. She needed this as much as he did, needed to lose herself in the pleasure and the heat that built with each touch between them.
Lifting her in his arms, Tanner carried her to the bed, keeping his eyes locked with hers, his senses focused on her.
She was confused, desperate. He could feel the raging pain inside her, the need to understand the fires that built so quickly between them.
Why wasn’t she his mate?
As he laid her on the bed, Tanner stared down at her, memorizing her features, the soft pale skin of her face, the dark chocolate of her eyes. Her sable hair fanned out around her; the violet velvet of her outfit whispered over her slender body.
She would have made the perfect mate. Strong-willed, passionate, built for endurance and survival. She should have been his mate.
She would be his mate. Fuck science and the damned scientists at Sanctuary. This was his woman, no matter what nature or blood tests decided. He would lay down his life to protect her.
“Take off the clothes. Slowly,” he told her, his voice hoarse from the strength of his lust, his need.
Her hands moved to the elastic band of the lounging pants before her h*ps lifted to push the material over her sensuous curves.
Her silken tummy slid into view, slightly rounded, soft. Kissable. Then rounded, well-toned thighs, the bare, glistening curves of her pu**y. And those curl-shrouded folds were more than kissable. They were devourable.
“You have the prettiest damned pu**y I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said and sighed as she finally kicked the soft pants free. “I could spend hours eating you.”
He glanced at her eyes just in time to see the flare of response.
“He never did that for you, did he, baby?” His fingers went to the buttons of his shirt as hers gripped the hem of her shirt. “St. Marks didn’t appreciate that pretty pu**y. He gave it no more than a lick and a promise, didn’t he?”
His shirt dropped to the floor as his hands went to his belt.
“You were watching,” she whispered. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think, baby, I know he didn’t know how to appreciate what he had,” he growled.
He had watched those surveillance videos. St. Marks hadn’t known what to do with a woman who felt that sex was more than an itch to be scratched.
The shirt cleared her swollen br**sts, then came over her head. Her eyes gleamed dark and hot, her face flushed with excitement now. Nearly as flushed as the swollen folds of that slick, wet pu**y.
He kicked off his jeans before reaching down and pulling off the socks he wore. But his eyes never left her body. He wondered if he could watch her enough, ever stare long enough that he wouldn’t be surprised every time he saw something he had missed the time before.
Like the silken shimmer on the underside of her br**sts. The mature curves, not overblown, not really slender. Sweet, soft differences that proclaimed her an adult woman in every way.
“Are you going to do anything, or do you intend to think it to death?”
She was impatient in sex. It was one of the things he had learned about her through those surveillance videos. But then again, St. Marks hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to hold her interest.
“I don’t need to think about it.” He reached out, touched her thigh, then trailed his fingers to the silken wetness between her legs.
There, his thumb circled the swollen little bud of her cl*t peeking from the apex of the folds. She trembled beneath his touch and his c**k jerked in response.
“I can’t wait to bury my lips there again. I’d rather eat you than breathe.”
Her legs shifted, falling further open as he removed his fingers and came to the bed. Last night had been hard and rough. This, he wanted this to last. He wanted to make her come so many times that by the time he finished she could do nothing but shudder in the grip of an orgasm that seemed to never end.
“First on my list was feeling you come around my tongue,” he growled as he settled his knees between her thighs and leaned over her. “And that was good, Scheme. That was really good.”
He stared into her eyes as he bent to her mouth, sipping at her lips as her fingers moved hesitantly to his shoulders. She always touched him hesitantly. As though she wasn’t certain if she should even touch.
And oh, she should definitely touch.
“Come here, sugar.” He rolled to his back, pulling her with him, grinning up at her as she stared back at him in shock. “I’m all yours,” he growled, helping her to her knees before pushing his head between them. “And you’re all mine.”
“Tanner, this doesn’t work.” She didn’t bend forward as he’d expected.
His hands slid up the outside of her thighs as he turned his head and pressed a kiss just above her knee.
“Have we tried it before?” He raked her lower thigh with his teeth, smiling as a tremor rippled beneath the flesh.
“I don’t like this position.” Her voice was smoky, breathless.
“Have we tried it before?” he asked her again, nipping at her thigh with enough force to make her moan.
Oh yeah, she liked that. He raked along the side of the opposite knee. Her hands flattened on his abdomen.
“I’ve done this before,” she gasped. “I didn’t like it.”
“Hmm.” Yeah, he remembered that one. That one hadn’t pissed him off too bad, because he remembered watching her eyes. St. Marks had been less than ineffective. “Maybe you’ll like it better with a pro.”
Tanner lifted his head, distended his tongue and swiped it through the drenched slit directly above him. While there, he made certain to flicker his tongue over the sensitive flesh before rounding her cl*t with a delicate, purring lap.
She jerked, a gasp coming from above him as he raked his fingernails along the outsides of her thighs.
“I can’t do this,” she moaned as he gripped her thighs and flicked the tip of his tongue over the curves of her pu**y again.
“Why can’t you do this, baby?” He kept the purr in his voice. Damn, she liked that sound, or the touch of his tongue, because the dampness increased exponentially.