Personally, Storme had always scoffed at the notion. Now she knew it was true.
As she arched, her body heated, her pussy creaming until she swore she felt the dampness against her thighs.
A desperate moan left her lips as he abandoned the kiss, his lips stroking along her jaw, to the arched column of her neck and then to the hard, tight peaks of her nipples.
Covering a hard bud with his lips and sucking it in, his hands stroked over her arms. His calloused fingertips, slightly rough, traced down her arm, across her hip, along her thighs. His hands were never still, his fingers never caressing her the same way twice, but each stroke fired nerve endings and created a sensitivity to pleasure so intense it took only minutes before she was crying out from the extremity of it.
Her pussy clenched, her juices gathered like thick syrup along the bare flesh of her pussy lips and sensitized her clit to the point that it was pounding with sensation.
Even the air against her flesh was a caress, fired and intensified by the small growls and groans that sounded as if they'd been forced from Styx's chest.
His cock lay against the inside of her leg, thick and so hard it felt like hot iron against her flesh.
As his lips loved over her breasts, suckling first one, then the other of the tight, sensitive nipples, Storme fought the need to grab his head and push him to the sensitive flesh of her thighs.
She needed his kiss there. Needed the stroke of his tongue against her clit, those hungry growls vibrating against it.
Her hips arched, strangled cries tearing from her throat as those heated kisses began to trail down her torso, over her stomach.
Stopping at the flat plane of her midriff, he paid particular attention to her lower stomach, his tongue stroking, his fingers caressing before he moved lower.
Lower.
"Oh God. Styx!"
His tongue swiped through the drenched folds of bare flesh, so hot and wicked she swore she nearly came from the first lick.
But her lover was more diabolical than that.
The Breed known to fulfill every woman's greatest sexual fantasies whispered against the heated, swollen flesh. "Mine!"
His teeth nipped at the tender folds, sending a rush of excited sensation racing along the nerve endings, straight to the sensitive bud of her clit.
Her juices spilled, only to be caught by his sensual, hungry tongue. Her pussy clenched violently as he parted the inner lips, his tongue flicking against the entrance before thrusting inside with a fierce, hard stab.
Her hips came off the bed.
Hard male hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he began to fuck her with his tongue, driving her to the brink of release before pulling back then pushing her to the edge once again.
She wanted to scream in need. She would have, but he kept stealing her breath with the pleasure.
She wanted to demand more, demand her orgasm and whatever came with this new, blazing sensation, but she couldn't keep her senses intact enough to force the words to her lips.
Chocolate and cinnamon filled her senses as she pressed against his shoulders with her hands, pressing him back, pushing at him until he lay back for her, his large body a banquet of tastes and sensation for her greedy senses.
Her palms stroked along his chest and his abdomen, her lips moved over his, her tongue licking at his, dipping into the hormone-infused well of pleasure as she tried to straddle his hard body.
She meant to straddle him.
She wanted to. She wanted to ride him until nothing mattered, until all she felt, tasted or knew was the touch of him.
But Styx obviously had other plans.
Before she could press the aching flesh of her pussy against the engorged crest of his cock, he moved.
A growl rumbled in his chest as he lifted her, turned her, pressed her to her knees then came behind her with a dominance that completely rocked her senses.
His teeth nipped at the tender flesh of her shoulder as the weight of his chest leaned against her, pressing her shoulders to the bed.
"Ah lass," he growled at her ear as she felt his cock pressing against the slick, wet folds of her pussy. "More foreplay next time, I swear it to you."
More foreplay? Any more and she might have expired permanently from the excitement.
She might yet.
Storme stilled as she felt the press of the engorged crest at the entrance of her sex. Pausing, the head tucked against the entrance, she felt that first, rumored spurt of pre-cum from his cock.
Lubricating, heated, the suspected hormone-laced fluid rushed inside her, coating tender flesh and sensitive nerve endings.
As tension tightened through her body, still she felt the marginal relaxation of her pussy. The next heated spurt sent sparks of sensation racing through her and eased the tight muscles further as he began to press inside her.
Breathing in roughly, she focused on the pure fiery pleasure of the flesh parting, burning, stretching around him as he worked his own hard flesh inside her with short, tight thrusts.
Each measured penetration sent a blaze of sensation rushing to her clit. It throbbed and ached, swelling until it seemed ready to burst as she threw her head back, tilted it, and felt his lips along the sensitive column of her neck.
She'd seen the mark Hope, Faith and Charity carried there. The mating mark it was called. All wives of Breeds or wives who were Breeds themselves carried that mark.
As the pleasure tore through her system, lighting a wildfire of sensation along each nerve ending, Storme ached for the mark. She ached for each touch, every level of possession, and hungered for his kiss.
Fighting to breathe, she strained to take the heavy width of flesh penetrating her as he forged deeper inside the slick recesses of her pussy.
Tender nerve endings were revealed as blazing need was stoked and built to a level of intensity that she wondered if she could survive.
Holding on to her hip with one hand, the other pressed to the bed beside her, Storme felt that last, imperative thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her.
"Oh God!" She arched her back with ecstatic pleasure. She'd never been so close to coming without actually reaching orgasm.
"Ah hell, Sugar. How tight you are." Hoarse and growling, his voice rumbled at her ear. "It feels as though my dick is lodged in a vise. A perfect, hot, slick wee vise that does nothin' but pleasure it."
Pleasure surrounded her. She trembled, shuddered in the grip of it as she fought to hold on to to something, anything, that would allow her to maintain just enough of her senses to memorize each touch, each sound, each stroke.
She thought she'd known the most pleasure she could feel. That it couldn't get better, that it couldn't become more intense, until he began moving.
The feel of his cock tunneling inside her, stroking the tight, brutally sensitive flesh, stole that last measure of sanity she had been desperate to hold on to.
Instinct became all that kept her breathing. It kept her crying out his name as she begged for release, as the pleasure stroked through the overly sensitive channel that fought to grip and hold him in place.
Digging her nails into the blankets, Storme thrust back against him, taking him deeper, harder as he groaned behind her.
It was exquisite.
"So good," she moaned, dazed, near senseless from the pleasure that built to a burning, desperate peak. "Oh God, Styx. Harder. It's so good."
It was pure ecstasy, undiluted and raging through her system, burning through her mind.
The heavy thrusts were destroying her, pushing her higher and tightening through her body until she felt her orgasm beginning to blaze through her.