But he was holding her. His hands, big and strong, were smoothing down her back, over the rise of her buttocks and back again.
Stroking. He was stroking her, pulling her close as those big hands returned to her buttocks and lifted.
Her back met the wall behind them as his thigh slid between hers, tucked against the core of her and rubbed against her with a smooth, seductive stroke.
Sensation raced from her clit to her nipples. Pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was heated, soothing, exciting. A mix of sensations she'd never had time to experience until now.
"You're not movin', lass." His lips feathered over hers.
No, she wasn't moving, she couldn't move.
"Such a lovely wee mystery." The brogue intoxicated her, held her mesmerized with the pure, male seduction it contained as she felt his fingers at the buttons of her blouse.
God, she was letting him touch her. Her brother had been killed by a Coyote whose life he had saved more than once when the Coyote had returned from a mission gone bad. Her father had created him.
Wolves and Coyotes had been her father and brother's specialties. Their genetic genius had created Breeds other scientists had been in awe of. Breeds that had turned on their creators.
And one of those Breeds was touching her. Not one they had created, but one created just as they had created others.
She looked down, watching as the fingers of one hand loosened the buttons of her plain black blouse. The material parted slowly, the edges easing apart to reveal her unbound breasts.
Storme stared down at the flushed, swollen mounds of her breasts. Her nipples, normally a soft pink, relaxed and uninteresting, were now hard, pointed and much darker.
"Lord love a Wolf." The soft breath of sound had her gaze jerking up to his expression.
He looked rapt, staring at her breasts as his hands slowly cupped the hard mounds, feeling them, holding them in his palms as though they were in need of his support.
The feel of the calloused flesh rasping against the silken curves had her nipples throbbing. They were tight and hard, painfully sensitive and aching for touch.
He wasn't gentle. He wasn't rough. His fingers caressed, molded and experienced the feel of the hardened flesh as Storme felt her knees weaken from the sensations tightening. God, she just needed him to touch harder, firmer.
No, she needed more. She wanted, needed his lips on her. She wanted them covering the tight peaks, suckling on them, drawing them into his mouth and driving her insane with the pleasure.
"Styx," she whispered his name, just to feel it on her lips, to feel a part of him on her lips.
She wanted to taste him as desperately as she wanted to be tasted. She wanted to give and to take. She ached for an intimacy she had never dared to even consider before tonight.
How dangerous was this? So dangerous she knew she might never recover from this night if it continued in this way.
She was going to have to stop this, very soon.
But she didn't want to stop it. She could feel the conflict rising inside her, beginning to tear at her. Fear and need, memories and past hatreds, a decade of running, hiding, fighting for just a few moments to find peace, to find warmth. In ten years she hadn't found it, until a Wolf pulled her into his arms.
Until the enemy touched her.
"Sweet mystery," he whispered. "Tell me, if I suck these pretty nipples, will you be a good lass and tell me your name?"
She didn't dare. God no. She couldn't handle the thought of having him realize who she was, of having the lover, the protector, turn into the jailor.
Storme shook her head.
"I'll be making a name for you then, love, because sucking those nipples is something I cannot resist," he warned her as his lips brushed against hers and his thumbs stroked over her nipples. "I'll not suck your pretty nipples without a name to lay to one who possesses such a perfect bounty though."
She was going to melt right there in his arms. Was it really fair that a creature such as this should exist? That he could tempt and seduce where only hatred should exist?
"My little mystery. My sweet, tempting little Sugar."
He found his name for her at the same time he found her lips.
Storme felt the moan trapped in her throat as the most incredible lash of sensations began to rush through her. His lips, impossibly knowing, heated, hungry, flowed over hers as his tongue licked against the seam of her mouth.
She swore she tasted the chocolate he had relished at dinner. That and perhaps a hint of cinnamon. A hint of heat.
Her lips parted.
She couldn't help but open to him, to allow his tongue to lick at hers, his lips to slant over hers, as his thigh pressed tighter, harder against the mound of her pussy.
She was incredibly wet. The feel of moisture collecting between her thighs added to the sensitivity of her suddenly swollen clit as she felt her arms lifting, her hands gripping his strong neck.
She wanted his kiss, and she shouldn't. She should fear the feel of his longer canines as he nipped at her lips then returned for a deeper, hotter kiss.
His lips moved over hers, creating a fire she couldn't control as she felt the need tightening in her belly and clenching in her pussy.
Storme felt her senses dissolving, her fear evaporating. And they shouldn't be.
She promised herself she would figure it out later. As her head tipped back against the wall and she allowed his lips to skim down her neck to the rise of her breasts, she consoled herself with the promise that as soon as she could draw a breath, then she would make sense of it.
For now, she simply wanted to be a woman. And she had never felt so much a woman as she did now.
She didn't have to worry about Coyotes killing this man when it was over. She didn't have to worry about being disturbed, about being in danger. There wasn't a chance Farce and his friend would dare to make such an attempt.
"Oh yes." The words tore from her lips as his tongue suddenly stroked over a nipple, dissolving her thoughts.
Her gaze jerked down once again, watching, lips parted as he stared up at her with those ocean blue eyes, parted his own lips and sucked the tight, hard tip of her nipple inside with exquisitely slow motion. Damp male lips parting. His tongue curling over the hard tip before it disappeared inside his mouth and cold flames engulfed it.
Immediately, blazing sensation seared the tender bud before streaking hot and luscious straight to her clit. There, it tightened the muscles of her vagina and sent a surge of moisture to lubricate the sensitive folds of her pussy as the muscles there clenched and tightened in need.
She was wet and hot. Her body was sensitized, sinking, melting, and suddenly, nothing mattered but this man and the feel of his lips surrounding her nipple, suckling at it with firm, strong draws of his mouth, as his hands slid to her ass again to move her against his thigh. The pleasure was exquisite. It tore through her senses and rasped over her nerve endings like a wave of electric sensation.
Her stomach clenched, tightened. The overwhelming feeling was like a fire tearing through her pussy.
Fighting him wasn't an option, unless it meant fighting to keep him in place. Her fingers pushed into his hair, dislodging the leather that held it at his nape. The coarse warmth of the strands flowed over her hands and was the perfect counterpoint to the rasp of his tongue over her nipple.
It was just a bit rough. Just a bit rougher than it should have been, just rough enough to send lashes of surprising ecstasy straight to her clit.
"There, Sugar." His lips lifted and smoothed over one nipple before kissing their way to the other, as the hands on her ass moved her against his thigh, rubbing against it with wicked, sensual mastery.
He was seducing her and she couldn't fight it. The insidious warmth began to burn its way through her system, igniting a flame she couldn't fight, couldn't deny.