Licking, stroking, pleasure and hunger merged to spin them both into a furiously heated, blazing pleasure that gripped their senses and tore aside any trepidation, any confusion she may have felt. Any hesitancy he may have had.
As the imperative need to fill her with the mating heat eased, the need to satisfy the heat with pleasure filled every fiber of his being.
Laying her back, Malachi let his lips roam down her neck to the full curves of her breasts as she arched to him. His thumbs raked over the tips, watched them tighten and swell harder as a soft moan of pleasure left her kiss-swollen lips.
His mate.
She was lifting to him, arching against him, needing and hungry for his touch.
And he wanted nothing more than to give it to her.
Isabelle had known. She should have known. Where there was smoke, there was fire, her father had always said. The tabloids were filled with the stories of a mating addiction. A heat that human women couldn’t resist. One that bound the Breed male to her. One that created an endless, sensual feast for the couple.
That knowledge was a distant thought, a realization she couldn’t hold on to as Isabelle felt Malachi’s lips surround the tight, puckered tip of her breast.
She stared down at him, dazed, the pleasure she had felt before, with no more than the briefest caress, rising, becoming deeper, becoming something more binding.
The feel of his hot, sucking mouth tugging at her nipple was almost a pleasure-pain. Heat bloomed in the tender tip, radiated outward and rushed to her pussy, where her clit throbbed with violent demand.
His tongue rubbed against the sensitive point, then with quick, hard little licks flicked over it, lashing at it as a surge of pleasure and excitement sent fingers of electric sensation through her, clenching her womb and spilling her juices between her thighs.
She was so wet. So hot. She could feel the slick proof of her need for him as it slickened her thighs and swelled the folds of her pussy in anticipation.
Moving from one breast to the other, his lips played in exacting detail at the tight little bud. He sucked and licked, flicked at it with his tongue, and with whatever addictive quality she had tasted in his kiss, he sensitized her nipples further.
She had felt the swollen glands beneath his tongue as she suckled at it for those few brief seconds. She had tasted his kiss, redolent of a fire in winter with the spice of a summer rainstorm thrown in it.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as he released the tip, only to spread his kisses down her torso as his hands stroked to her thighs and parted them slowly.
Against the outside of her leg, Isabelle could feel the thick, heavy width of his cock and almost felt the fear that wanted to rise inside her. But there was no place for inhibitions as his fingers trailed higher, slid through the slick essence of her hunger then brushed against the curls that hid the swollen flesh from him.
His lips moved to her hipbone, then to the other before kisses were scattered to the sensitive mound of her pussy. His fingers tucked against the slit as she arched closer to him, desperate now to feel his kiss, his touch, on every portion of her body.
“Malachi,” she moaned, the dark, sexual tone of her voice almost shocking her.
His fingers eased down the narrow crease between the folds of her pussy to find the hidden entrance where her juices pooled with silken heat.
His finger rotated as he moved lower, lying between her thighs, his breath whispering over the swollen bud of her clit.
That tiny caress, like a heated breeze blowing over the too sensitive bundle of nerves. Isabelle found herself jerking in reaction, her hands slapping against the mattress to curl into the blankets beneath her.
His head lowered.
Isabelle watched, entranced, as his tongue peeked out and licked over the tiny pleasure point with devastating results.
“Oh God, Malachi,” she cried out, her knees bending and lifting, her legs parting farther as he drew her clit into his mouth and began suckling with quiet, hungry greed.
She had never done this before. She had never lain so open, knees bent and thighs spread, and given any other man permission to touch her intimately.
The fingers rubbing gently at the entrance to her vagina began pushing inside her.
His lips and tongue were torturing her clit with pleasure, and as Malachi begin to push his fingers inside her, she felt herself unraveling.
Two large fingers pushed in, twisting lightly, scissoring and stretching her open. She felt them rasp against the tender inner nerve endings and send impulses of pure pleasure racing through her.
Every cell vibrated with the rush of sensation. Isabelle could feel the sensations coalescing, tightening, threatening to implode inside her as he began thrusting his fingers shallowly into the snug opening.
She could feel the pressure on the fragile shield of her virginity as his fingers began stretching it, weakening it.
“Malachi,” she moaned again as one hand slid beneath her rear, arching her higher to his lips and to the finger penetrating her sex. “It’s so good. It feels so good.” She couldn’t keep it in. She needed him too much. Needed every touch possible with every fiber of her being.
He sucked her clit deeper into his mouth, his tongue rubbing against it now as the thrusting fingers began to move inside her with more demand, sending lightning-fast forks of sensation to tear through her womb, her clit and her pussy.
“Fuck me!” She cried the words out, desperation laced with demand, but she had no idea where they’d come from. “Oh God, Malachi, I need you. I swear I’ve needed you all my life.”
A growl rumbled against her pussy.
Her pussy tightened on the invading fingers as they slid free of her, then Malachi’s head was lowering, his hands lifting her closer . . .
His tongue pushed inside the dripping, juice-saturated entrance of her pussy.
Like an erotic fire, his tongue so hot, so wickedly hungry, Malachi began to lick and stroke, fucking her with rapid, hard movements as Isabelle felt her body tightening, felt it bordering on mindlessness. A sudden, soul-deep implosion sent a cry racing past her lips as her orgasm convulsed her womb and had her screaming out in delirious ecstasy.
Isabelle couldn’t stop the shudders or the hard, racking spasming of her muscles as the sensations seemed to go on and on.
Malachi rose between her thighs then in a hard surge. As he moved over her, Isabelle felt the head of his cock tuck between the folds of her pussy. There, just pressed against her entrance, his cock throbbed and she felt a hard, hot pulse of what had to be pre-cum spurting inside her.
But pre-cum didn’t spurt.
Her eyes opened. Staring back at him, Isabelle felt it again, then felt a tingling rush of sensation that began invading the delicate tissue.
She had been horny for him before. She had been on the verge of mindless masturbation the night before, even after she learned that no matter how she tried, she couldn’t find release.
But now . . . this . . .
This wasn’t simply arousal.
As another heated spurt shot inside the swollen opening, Isabelle felt new sensations beginning to bloom in the flesh it touched.
She would have melted to the floor if she hadn’t already been lying down.
Pleasure increased a hundredfold, and as his erection began to fill her, to stretch the tender tissue to an almost unbearable tightness, Isabelle knew with utter certainty what the fluid was.
The heated spurts weren’t pre-cum, at least not entirely. Whatever it was, it allowed even the tightest flesh to accept this incredible stretch and penetration, and to find the most incredible pleasure possible in his possession of her.
Isabelle held her breath as she felt his muscles bunch and gather. He paused for a second, his gaze locking with hers.