He wore no underwear. Breeds were created and raised for years without clothes, and adapting to them wasn't easy. Underwear was something they preferred to do without. Now, he almost wished he wore them.
His cock sprang free, agonizingly hard, thick, the broad, heavy crest flushed and damp.
The silk slacks fell down his thighs, his legs, to pool at his feet as he forced himself to stand in place.
Rachel stepped back then.
"I've had the most incredible fantasy since the first time I laid eyes on you," she whispered in a voice so sultry it raked over his senses like pure sex.
"And what would that fantasy be?" His voice was so rough, so dark, he almost winced. Then it was all he could do not to widen his eyes as her fingers went to the buttons on her shirt.
One by one, slow and easy, those buttons slipped free. She pulled the ends from the skirt she wore. A silk skirt. Jonas liked silk. It ended just about her knees, barely covering her incredible thighs.
He did so love his mate's thighs.
Once the blouse was pulled free, with a little shrug and jerk of her shoulders, it pooled to the floor, leaving her clad in a next-to-nothing bra, which barely covered the full, luscious mounds of her breasts.
Tight, hard nipples poked against the sheer lace covering, tempting his lips, the glands that immediately swelled beneath his tongue and the hungers raging through him.
The animal snarled, causing his lips to draw back, the claws to prick at the tips of his fingers, though they didn't retract.
Her hands moved then, too slowly, to the zipper at the side of the skirt. It rasped down, the sound filling the room. A second later it dropped over her thighs, slid to the floor and stole his breath.
Innocent, white low-cut panties matched the bra. Silk stockings ended at those gorgeous, well-rounded thighs. Pretty, cream-colored stockings, which almost matched the panties and bra. But on her tiny, delicate feet were wickedly high black heels.
Her hand stroked over her smooth stomach. There were only a few tiny, almost-impossible-to-detect marks from her pregnancy. They were marks he wanted to kiss, to stroke with his tongue.
"You didn't tell me what the fantasy was." He cleared his throat.
Jonas stood his ground, wondering now what his delectable little mate would come up with.
She stepped closer, her breasts almost touching his chest as her hands stroked up his thighs, those diabolical nails scraping over his flesh once again before raking along the inner thighs and sending flames wrapping around his balls.
His cock felt tortured now, so hard, so desperate for release he had to clench his teeth against the agony.
"You were on television," she murmured. "So handsome, so very civilized." A single nail raked over the tight sac of his balls, causing his breath to break with the extremity of the pleasure. "When the reporter turned to you, your tongue almost licked your lips nervously. It peeked out just the slightest, and I swore I nearly had my first orgasm."
Her fingernails rasped over the shaft of his cock. He was going to die of pleasure before he ever had the chance to come.
"I was a teenager." Her breath blew against his chest. "And I wanted to do something I had heard my friends snicker over. I wanted to sit on your face."
Jonas flinched, a growl tore from his chest unbidden. He was reaching for her, ready to lift her and give her exactly what she had fantasized about.
Before he could grip her arms she bent, licked over his cock, froze him in his tracks, then drew the flushed, straining crown into the heated depths of her mouth.
She licked, sucked. Her tongue swirled and tasted and tightened his entire body with the most incredible pleasure that he had ever known.
When he was certain he couldn't hold back, when he felt the release building in his balls, tightening through his body, her mouth was gone.
She straightened. Her eyes were a moss green, dark, vivid. Hunger swirled in them, flushed her features and gave it the sweetest, spiciest scent. The lush moisture of the juices spilling between her thighs had him jealous of the lace covering the delicate folds.
Before she could demand he stop or evade his move, Jonas had her on the bed, on her back. His tongue plunged in her mouth as he felt those nails prick at his shoulders. He shoved his thigh between hers, pressing hard and tight against the wet mound of her pussy as he pumped his tongue in her mouth, feeling her trying to trap it, suckling the mating hormone from it as his lips moved over hers.
She was his. He would allow her to stake her claim, to have her fantasy. But first, he would stoke that wildness inside her, make her burn and make her take what she wanted.
Rachel raked her nails down Jonas's back, heat and lightning whipping through her, striking at erogenous zones, burning in her blood as she fought to hold on to his kiss and the incredible taste she craved.
He was an addiction, but he had been an addiction long before he had instigated the mating heat between them. He had been an addiction before she ever met him in person.
The taste of cinnamon and cloves filled her senses. Fiery pleasure rocked through her body, but she couldn't get that image out of her mind. She couldn't get that need out of her mind.
As the fires inside her burned, rushed through her, rose and engulfed the last of any shyness she might still harbor, she struggled in his arms.
Pushing at his shoulders, riding the hard male thigh thrust between her softer ones, she fought the hold he had on her until he rolled to his back.
She was moving as he lifted her. Her leg swung over his head, her knees digging into the mattress as desperation and hunger overwhelmed her.
As she came over him, he was waiting for her. Hard hands gripped her hips, pulled her to him, his tongue swiping through the thick juices collecting there, and driving her insane with pleasure.
Throwing her head back, a low wail erupted from her lips as his tongue curled around her clit. She was burning. She was diving headlong into ecstasy and the ride was both thrilling and terrifying.
Her hands lifted to her breasts, her head tilting, staring down at him as his hands curled around her thighs and his eerie silver eyes stared back up at her.
Her fingers rubbed over her nipples as she felt his tongue flick at her clit, rub it. The raspy texture of it sent the blood rushing to her head, light-headedness nearly overtaking her as she pinched her nipples, increasing the sensation.
He was watching her. A low, growling groan echoed in the room as he drew the little bud into his mouth and suckled at it, his tongue running around it as she began to twist her hips against him.
"So good," she moaned as she tore at the clasp of the bra between her breasts to release it. "Oh Jonas, it's so good. Your tongue's like fire."
That instrument of flaming pleasure lashed at her clit now, stroking around it, over it, as he sucked at it. The hormone in his tongue, it had to be that fiery essence, seemed to sink into the little knot of flesh, tightening it further, throwing her closer to bliss as she began to ride his face. Her hips rolled, twisted, her thighs bunched with the need tearing through her.
A hard kiss vibrated along the ultra-sensitive flesh as he released it, only to lick, stroke, to ease lower. Rachel was nearly screaming with need now, her hands filled with her breasts, her fingers rubbing, stroking, pinching at her nipples as she fought for orgasm.
A second later, his tongue drove into her pussy.
Her back arched, her muscles clenched on the intruder, sucking it, spasming around it as she began to demand to come.
She wanted it now. She wanted to feel that wild ride of complete rapture as it flung her into ecstasy.
His tongue fucked her with hungry strokes, pressing inside her pussy to lick, to taste, to fill her with such desperate need that she could barely breathe for it.