Her fingernails scraped against his scalp, sending a shiver of delight down his spine. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. His cock jerked and pressed hard against her belly.
Arand had to see more of her. His hands went to the front of the pants she was wearing. Jeans, that’s what they were called. He loved the way the soft material clung to her thighs and hips. The button was easy and the zipper fascinated him. He would examine it further another time.
Sabrina captured one of his hands in hers, stopping him as he lowered the zipper. “Wait.”
“Why?” he countered, shoving his hands inside the open material. He encountered another layer of clothing, this one softer and thinner. Panties. He wanted to see them, but he wanted them off more. He shoved both layers down her hips.
“This is crazy. We don’t even know one another. You’re part of a vision.”
He could hear her confusion and knew he should probably stop. But he was fighting an instinct more powerful than the need to be a gentleman. “You belong to me.” It was as simple as that for him. After so many years held captive, he was relying solely on his instincts, and they were all demanding he claim this woman as his own.
“I belong to myself.”
He growled, not liking what she was saying in the least. He’d take her again and again, bring her so much pleasure she would no longer deny his claim on her. “Mine.”
Arand fell to his knees before her so his face was level with her pussy. He pushed the jeans and panties around her knees, leaned inward and buried his face against her mound. Her pubic hair was a shade darker than the hair on her head but just as soft.
“Oh God.”
“Arand,” he corrected. Inhaling, he took in the sweet scent of her arousal, wishing he could bathe in the lush perfume.
She laughed, but it quickly turned to a moan as he parted her folds with his thumbs and exposed the nub of nerves at the top of her sex. She gripped his hair so tight his scalp stung. It felt good. No, good was much too bland a word for what he was experiencing. There were no words. There was only Sabrina.
He was starving and only the taste of her could sate him. He stroked his tongue over the tiny bud of her arousal, reveling in her groan of pleasure. Spicy and sweet, her cream coated his tongue as he explored further.
He licked at the folds of her sex, first one side and then the other. She undulated her hips against his mouth, directing him to where she wanted him.
A growl escaped him, vibrating through his tongue where he touched her. She gave a low cry and shuddered. He pulled away and looked up at her. “You like that?”
“Yes.” She dragged his head back to her pussy. “It’s like your tongue has a vibrator attached to it.”
For the first time in more than five thousand years, Arand smiled. He was pleased with how his woman responded to his touch. He started to lean in again, but she stopped him, yanking his shoulders back.
“We should stop. This is crazy.”
Displeasure washed away his joy and his smile disappeared. “Why? You want me and I want you.”
“This isn’t real. You’re not real. All this is nothing more than a vision my mind has conjured to help me understand what’s happening to me.” Her voice was getting louder and shriller with each word she spoke. The smell of her unease burned his nostrils. “And we’re strangers.”
“No, we are not. You are mine and I am yours.”
Her laughter was tinged with fear and a touch of sorrow. “I don’t know how you can say that.”
“It is true.”
She tilted her head back until it hit the wall with a small thud. “How is this even happening?”
“You believe it is all a vision, a mirage your mind has conjured?”
She gave him a sad smile and a nod. “There’s no other logical explanation.”
“Then why fight it?” He’d try again later to make her understand that everything he told her was real and true. Right now, he had more pressing needs to attend to. He shoved her clothing down around her ankles and lifted each foot as he pulled it away. He waited for her to demand he stop. It might have killed him to do so, but he would have halted if it was truly what she wished.
He sighed with relief as her sultry feminine essence teased his nostrils. She still wanted him. There was no mistaking the rich scent of her arousal. It reminded him of cinnamon mixed with something sweet. He’d never get enough of it.
“If I’m not real, what does it matter?” he countered.
Sabrina swallowed hard and tried to come up with a logical reply, but it was impossible with his tongue tracing the sensitive folds of her pussy. Her insides felt like freshly made taffy, hot and gooey. She knew she should put an end to this, knew she should move but couldn’t quite work up the willpower to do it.
He slid large hands up the backs of her thighs before cupping her butt and squeezing both globes. “You feel so good.”
Her knees started to give out and she leaned heavily against the wall for support. This was crazy. Insane. And stupid. She needed to use her head. Unfortunately, that part of her anatomy seemed to be somewhat scrambled. And the rest of her wasn’t much better. Her legs trembled, her arms felt weak and her lungs were struggling to catch a breath. Heart racing, skin tingling, she licked her lips and stared down at the mystery man from her visions.
Sabrina knew the madness had to stop. She was clinging to a fantasy, a mirage, to a man who didn’t really exist. But she’d never experienced a vision quite this real before. His skin was tanned and warm, muscles rippling beneath it every time he moved. His shaggy hair brushed against the insides of her thighs, an erotic caress. His breath was hot against her pussy and his fingers—oh Lord, his fingers were pure magic. Everywhere he touched her, the nerve endings jumped to life. She’d never been so aroused in her life.
And how pathetic was that. No real man could ever live up to the fantasy she’d conjured with her mind. She just wanted the madness to stop. She wanted to feel safe in her own home, to get rid of whatever evil seemed to have targeted her and have her life return to normal. Long days in Jackson Square, doing card readings and working behind the counter at Café Ledet, painting and spending time with her friends.
But if the madness stops you’ll never see him again, a voice in the back of her head whispered. Her heart ached for a man who was no more than a figment of her imagination. An immortal warrior, a creature she’d conjured out of her need to feel protected. After all, who better to play the hero than a shapeshifting warrior who could also be a wolf—the animal she’d seen as her own personal protector since childhood.
“Stop thinking,” he ordered. “Feel.”
He ignored the way she tugged on his hair to keep him away from her, and she freely admitted she wasn’t trying very hard. A part of her wanted his touch, wanted to feel his hands and mouth on her.
She’d been so out of sorts these past weeks, scared and angry and confused. She just wanted to feel good for a few minutes, to step outside her life and enjoy the pure physicality of having a sexy, ruggedly handsome man make love to her, even if it was only a figment of her imagination. The feel-good hormones being released into her body and speeding through her veins were real enough. And that’s all that mattered.
His breath was hot, his tongue slightly rough as he licked her slick folds. He gripped her thighs with his large hands, holding them apart so he could gain better access. The wall was hard against her back, her top and bra slightly uncomfortable where they were shoved up over her breasts.
If this was a vision, her vision, why weren’t they in her bed, or at least on the sofa?
Then he snaked his tongue inside her and she ceased to think. Low growls and deep groans of pleasure rang in her ears as he teased and aroused her to a fevered pitch. He sucked on her clit, stroking it with the tip of his tongue while he growled.