He locked his hands on her ass, and he forced himself down the short hall to her bedroom. He pushed his way through the doorway, slammed the door closed, and barely remembered to lock it before he stumbled across the room to the bed.
He felt the power of it the minute he collapsed to the mattress with her. The comfort, the peace. Entwined with the prayers of the swamp rat that had saved him, carved into lightning-struck cypress were ancient symbols of protection and peace. It was a work of art by an artist the world had never known as he taught the craft to the strange boy he had rescued from the hurricane-ravaged bayou.
It was the bed Saban had dreamed of building at an age when most boys were still tied to their mother’s apron strings. The bed where he knew he would one day create his family.
“Here,” he sighed, lifting from her, giving her nipple one last lick before levering himself from the curvy sweetness of her supple body.
He pulled her legs from around his waist, gripped the band of her capris, and pulled them quickly down her legs. Disposing of her strappy little sandals was easy, as was removing the silk of her damp panties.
And then he paused, held himself still, and stared down at the perfection of the woman who was his mate.
Her breasts that filled his hands perfectly, the flare of her hips, the gentle weight of her thighs, the smooth, curl-less folds of her sex. Her pussy was bare, silken, and beautiful. But how much more beautiful, he thought, if he could convince her to allow those soft curls to return?
All the sweetness in the world was held there, and he was a man who thrived on his sweets.
His head lowered, his tongue distending, and he swiped through the soft cream, a rough growl leaving his throat as he found the swollen little nub of her clit and her soft, needy cry filled the air.
Sugar and cream, that was her taste, and he could become drunk on her. He licked through the slick juices, nectar, the wine of the gods, it had to be. His lips opened, and he kissed the delicate folds of flesh, licked at the taste of her, devouring the passion that flowed from her.
And she loved it. He could feel the pleasure twisting, climbing through her body as she writhed beneath him. He had to clamp his hands on her hips to hold her still, but she lifted herself to him.
Her knees bent, her feet pressed into the mattress as he knelt beside the bed. Her hips angled, and his tongue found paradise. Rich, heady, living passion flowed to him as he heard her cries sinking into his head.
He had never known lust this hot, this wild. He fucked his tongue into the gripping, heated depths of her pussy and growled. An involuntary sound, wild and primitive, as he fought to slake his hunger for her taste.
The scent of her arousal had filled his head for weeks. Heated and mesmerizing, it had built a hunger for her that he feared he would never sate.
Mating heat be damned. This woman had consumed him long before the mating heat had begun affecting him. And now he would consume her, become so much a part of her that she could no longer run, that she realized they were bound: bound in ways she didn’t want to escape.
“I want you!” Natalie clawed at his shoulders as his tongue pumped into her pussy, driving her to the point of madness with the wicked, incredible pleasure tearing through her.
She wanted to touch him, wanted to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, but she couldn’t think. She couldn’t push herself away, and she couldn’t help but beg, to plead for more of his wicked tongue and evil fingers.
Fingers that were pressing inside her, filling her as his lips moved to the hard knot of her clit and surrounded it.
Her eyes jerked open, stared down her body, met the dark green fire in his as he licked and suckled at the violently sensitive flesh.
She was going to explode. She could feel it. She was right there. So close.
“You taste like a dream.” He kissed her clit, once, twice, then licked around it slowly, his slumberous eyes locked with hers. “I could eat you forever.”
She could barely breathe.
“But I want to be inside you when you come for me the first time.” He pulled back, despite her attempt to tighten her legs and hold him in place.
“I’ve dreamed of this, cher.” Anticipation filled his voice, his slumberous gaze as he jerked at the laces of his boots and quickly pulled them free.
Licking her lips, Natalie moved as his hands went to his belt. She rose, sat on the side of the bed, and brushed his fingers away.
“I want you now.” She slid the buckle free then went to work on the metal buttons, pulling them free, the hard, thick ridge of his cock making the task difficult at first.
As the material parted, Natalie drew it down to his thighs, left it there, and cupped her palm over the thick flesh hidden only by the cotton briefs he wore.
She heard his breath hiss from between his teeth as she gripped the band of the underwear and drew it slowly over the swollen length of his erection.
Weakness flooded her. Her juices pooled on the ultrasensitive folds of her flesh, and she swore her womb was clenching in trepidation. Because he wasn’t a small man in any way.
“Cher, leave me a little control, eh?” His voice was strained, but his hands were gentle as he brushed the hair back from her face.
“No.” She gripped the hard flesh with both hands and brought it to her parted lips.
He said something. Something foreign, thickly accented, but she didn’t catch it. The blood was thundering in her ears, rushing through her body, and her mouth was surrounding the wide, hot crest of his cock hungrily.
She had dreamed, too. Dreamed of him taking her in this big bed, dreamed of taking him, just like this.
She stared up at him, tasted the heat and male lust, the hunger and the need on his flesh. Sweat gleamed on his chest, ran in small rivulets along it, and added a subtle male fragrance to the air.
It was his eyes that held her though. A green so dark now she wondered if they weren’t closer to black. They glowed in his face, as startling as the wicked white canines that gleamed at the side of his mouth as his lips pulled back in a desperate snarl.
Hard hands were in her hair, twisting in it, tangling in it as she sucked his cock head inside and swirled her tongue over it slowly, tasting him.
He wasn’t watching her in detachment, he wasn’t analyzing her performance, he was enjoying it. Enjoying it to the point that she moaned at the additional pleasure that the expression on his face brought her.
Savage pleasure tightened his expression, pulled his lips back and had growls leaving his throat. It was the most exciting, erotic sight she had known in her life.
“Ah, cher,” his voice whispered over her. “Sweet bébé.”
She sucked him deep, tasting the subtle essence of pre-cum and wild, desperate lust.
She tasted and teased, tempted and tormented until she felt the control she had always sensed inside him break.
Between one second and the next she was pushed to her back, his jeans and briefs discarded, and he was moving purposely between her thighs. The length of his erection was iron-hard, throbbing, the prominent veins ridging the flesh, the engorged head darkened and pulsing in lust.
“Saban, please—” She bit her lip, holding back her words. She wanted to ask him to go easy, to take her slowly at first, but she could see the hunger raging in him, brewing into a storm of lust that darkened his emerald eyes.
“Do you think I would hurt you?” His jaw clenched, his chest heaved as he fought for breath, and the thick head of his cock tucked against the folds of her pussy.