She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed up onto her toes and captured his mouth in a ravenous, open-mouthed kiss. She begged him with her mouth, drawing him into her madness with each longing pull of her lips and strong sweep of her tongue. Or was it his madness she was surrendering to? Right now, he didn’t know or care. Her willing heat fried his last working brain cells and he fell into instinct and need.
Michael took command of the kiss. He sucked that luscious lip and gently scraped his teeth across it. His hands fisted in her skirt, jerking the stretchy fabric up, and Mara sighed into his mouth. God, he loved the noises she made, the little murmurs and sighs, not quite caught in her throat. She was musical in her passion, an instrument his fingers loved to pluck and strum.
The skin of her thighs was satin beneath his fingers. He wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs. His fingertips brushed against her heat and he hissed out a curse.
She wasn’t wearing panties. And she was dripping already. His slightest touch called forth another rush of moisture. Her need hit his nostrils, fogging his already blurry thoughts.
With one swift pull, he lifted her. Her legs wrapped snuggly around his hips. He notched his denim-covered erection against her pussy, but he didn’t push like he wanted to, concerned about the rough fabric against her sensitive flesh. He shouldn’t have worried. Mara ground herself on him, tearing her lips away from his to gasp out his name.
“Easy,” he murmured into the hair at her temple, barely recognizing his own voice. He slid his hand between them and slicked a finger through her folds. The touch was designed to be more soothing than arousing. He wanted to wind her up a little tighter before he let her take off. Her hips shoved his hand restlessly, and he speared one finger high into her slick heat, then two, scissoring them apart as he ground her clit with the heel of his palm. Her moans spiked to a high note and a surge of satisfaction shot through him. He had done that, pulled that sound from her.
She rode his hand, her head thrown back, eyes half-closed. There was no moon tonight, but his feline eyes didn’t need one to see the ecstasy carved into every gorgeous line of her face. She tossed her head impatiently and her long dark gold hair flicked along the roof of the SUV. He changed the angle of his thrusting fingers so they stroked against the front wall of her pussy. A choked gasp and a rush of moisture rewarded him as her inner muscles clenched tight around him.
Then he eased back, releasing the pressure on her clit and slowing the thrusts of his fingers until they were long, soothing strokes. She gave a short, frustrated keen and her fingers scrabbled at the fastenings of his jeans. She was too frantic to be firing him up on purpose, but every clumsy brush of her fingers over his cock, where it pressed hard and tight against the rigid denim, made his blood pump hotter. She was driving him mad, but she was no closer to getting his damn jeans off.
Michael withdrew his fingers from her wet heat and she moaned in protest. It couldn’t be helped. He needed both hands and a shitload of good luck if he was going to get the zipper down over his rigid erection. As he worked slowly with the uncooperative zip, Mara’s hands roved beneath his shirt, her claws softly drawing patterns in the muscles of his back.
Finally, the zipper yielded. Relief and impatience made his hands clumsy as he shoved his jeans to the base of his hipbones. Michael wasted no time taking himself in hand and fitting the head of his cock against Mara’s entrance. She hissed out his name as he drove in the first inch, forcing himself to go slowly.
Shallow pulses, each a fraction deeper than the last, rocked him into her slick channel, until he hilted, high and deep. Their sighs whispered out together into the night. She tightened around him. Her pussy squeezed his cock, milking him hard, and his knees almost buckled. He gripped the frame of the door beside her hips and shook his head once to clear his vision.
Her eyes challenged him, filled with equal parts wicked delight and bone-deep pleasure. Michael grabbed the roof to brace himself. He drew back and thrust home, feeling his claws sinking into the metal roof like butter and not able to bring himself to care. They could be standing in the town square in broad daylight and he wouldn’t have been able to retract his claws, not with Mara’s slippery heat wrapped around him. He drove deep two more times, pleasure burning in a hard knot inside him.
Then the door to the Bar Nothing squeaked open.
Michael froze, his gaze locked on Mara’s wide green-gold eyes.
His lion-keen hearing picked up the sound of several pairs of shuffling feet and a chorus of moans about closing time. The door squeaked again, this one changing pitch in the middle as if someone had caught the door and wrenched it open again. More footsteps followed the others into the night.
The SUV was on the opposite side of the parking lot, hidden in the shadows, but that was no guarantee no one would wander over to check out the seemingly abandoned Cherokee.
Michael stroked Mara’s hair back away from her face, never taking his eyes off hers. Sweat had begun to curl the tendrils at her temple and the heady scent of their arousal still filled his nostrils. Her breath came in shallow little pants and he could tell her attention was locked on the crowd milling across the parking lot, but when he tried to ease back, her claws clenched in his back and her inner muscles tightened fast enough that for a fraction of a second his vision went black.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, more mouthing the words than giving them voice.
The woman was trying to kill him.
He’d had good intentions. He really thought he was going to be able to pull out, tuck her in the car and get her home. But that whisper killed every noble inclination he’d ever possessed.
He couldn’t have stopped now if his life depended on it.
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Michael sank his claws back into the Jeep—as much to keep it from rocking as to keep himself steady—and pulsed his hips forward. Mara whimpered, catching the sound with her teeth snagging her plump lower lip. “Quiet,” he reminded her, so low the words barely carried the two inches to her ear.
Another shallow thrust. Another not-quite-contained moan. He watched her eyes, drinking in every flicker of sensation.
A bark of laughter from the direction of the bar had her shuddering around him. His sweet little schoolteacher had discovery fantasies. Who knew?
As the sounds of lazy conversation floated across the parking lot, Michael took up a steady rhythm, his focus on Mara complete. Half a dozen men loitered twenty yards away, but only she existed. The tight, wet fist of her pussy, the dazed, wicked gleam of her eyes in the darkness. The need to come built, drawing up his balls, but he fought it back. She was close. It was there in the way she worked at her lower lip and the mindless flexing of her claws in his back.
Michael bent his knees, shifting his angle slightly, and drove up into her higher, dragging the head of his cock against the front wall of her pussy. She came with a silent jerk, clenching around him. Her eyes squeezed shut and a single drop of blood formed on her lip where her teeth cut into it to hold back her cries. He slammed deep and hard, one last time, before giving in to a savage, soundless orgasm that blew the top of his head clean off.
The only sound was the soft complaint of metal warping under his claws—too soft to carry to their unknowing audience.
When the world stopped exploding, Michael collapsed forward against the door, Mara’s body still trapped between him and the vehicle.