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  Look at me, damn it. See who I am. See all of me.

  It took a moment to pry her eyes open, with the tremors rocking her body, but she did. His sensual features were stamped with violence, with predatory hunger, and sheer unadulterated possession.

  I can handle you, all of it. I can give you every damn thing you need. You're mine. Now fuckin' say it. I want the words. Give yourself to me.

  She hadn't realized the scope of his need for domination, the wildness or passion that raged in him just as it raged in her. But there was no mistaking that look. She found herself drowning in that look.

  "I'm yours," she murmured out loud. "Yours."

  "Only mine. You make certain you know that, Pepper. Because I would kill another man who put his cock inside your body. Any man who dared touch you. Do you get that? Make me know that you understand. I want this over and done with so we never have to revisit it. You're givin' me your word, your vow and I'm doin' the same with you. Say you understand that."

  All the while his fingers pushed inside of her and his dangerous, talented thumb never stopped stroking, so that the tension once again began to coil tighter and tighter.

  "I understand," she gasped, closing her eyes, because she did. She gave herself to him. Gave herself to an uncertain future. Wrapped them both in a sexual heat that could be a nightmare they could never escape.

  She didn't care. She wanted him. Wanted this. His hands and mouth on her, his hard body claiming hers. She needed this as she had never needed anything else in her life - and that was the very horror of the moment. Still, she couldn't stop herself, or him, and she didn't want to. Hunger lived and breathed in her, clawing for supremacy.

  Wyatt fought to hold the raging instincts of the cat under some semblance of control, but the feral nature was totally dominant now, the heat and fire sweeping through coupled with the need to make her know no one could ever touch her. She belonged to him. Belonged. They fit. She was probably the only woman in the world who could match - and take - the fierce domination of the cat that raged so strong in him.

  His cock was desperate to feel the hot glide of her wet, silken sheath closing around him like a tight fist. He pushed his fingers deeper just to feel the muscles tightening around him, clamping like a vise. She was perfect. Perfection. A jackhammer beat at his head. Thunder roared in his ears. His tongue fought with hers while his fingers pushed deep over and over, forcing a third orgasm. His. She was his alone. He could do this to her. Bring her to this. Give this to her.

  The sounds she made when she came with such wild abandon fed his own wild cravings and he dropped his hands to his jeans, tearing them open, pushing them off his hips so that his erection sprang free. The relief was tremendous, but the cool air didn't relieve the fierce heat or the terrible hunger.

  He caught her wrist and dragged her hand to him, wrapping her palm around his thick throbbing erection. Pepper knew exactly what to do. Her fingers stroked and glided. She cupped his sac and rolled his balls. Her fist closed around him and he was instantly in paradise, but it wasn't enough.

  "Give me your mouth, babe. Put your mouth on me right fuckin' now." He bit out the command through clenched teeth. Her fingers kept his cock jerking and throbbing with desperate need as she slid her thumb over the leaking drops, smoothing them over the head and shaft.

  His voice was ruthless, his eyes hooded and demanding, his hand on her shoulder, pressing her down, the other fisted in her hair, pulling her head back as she was forced to kneel at his feet. His cock was alive, inflamed, desperate for the feel of her. Every movement she made was sensual, her skin, her eyes, her hair, her pouting mouth.

  He was hot, but she fanned the flames with the way she knelt, her knees wide, feet tucked under her, her eyes on his as she allowed him to guide her head to his cock. He could see droplets of moisture, glittering like diamonds caught in the whorls of tiny curls at the junction of her legs. She looked impossibly sexy, her large eyes drenched in purple, the diamond burst beckoning toward heaven.

  "Your mouth," he demanded, harshly, a warning growl rumbling in his throat and chest. "Give me your damn mouth." He knew what she was doing, making him wait for it, driving him toward the edge of his control, but he was already there.

  Damn it, Pepper, don' be stupid. You can see how I am. Don' push me any further. You already have marks all over your body. He was rough with her and he knew the violence swirling in him would only make him rougher. "Get your fuckin' mouth on me right now." He gripped her long, thick hair harder, pushing her face toward his inflamed cock. He had to have her mouth wrapped around him right then or he might not make it through the next few minutes.

  There was something truly sensual in seeing her kneeling at his feet, stripped of all clothing, naked, her skin gleaming, breasts high and firm, nipples tight and inviting, her legs open for him while he was fully clothed. His harsh language didn't make her wince or in any way deter her. She was his match in every way. If she was a little afraid of their union, it only seemed to add to the hunger raging between them.

  The head of his cock bumped impressively against her mouth and she slid her small, pink tongue out to lick at him delicately. He groaned as fire shot through his body, a lightning strike that shook him. She lapped at him like a cat might with a bowl of cream, licking up and down his shaft and swirling over the sensitive, flared head. She was killing him.

  He jerked her hair, forcing her eyes to meet his. She had the audacity to smile at him. Her tongue teased along her own lips, licking up every pearly drop. His gut twisted and his cock, so long, so thick and so aroused, hurt like a son of a bitch.

  "Fils de putain," he ground out in Cajun French.

  He forced his finger to the side of her mouth, parting her lips and shoving himself deep. His cock was instantly in paradise, her hot, wet mouth wrapped tightly around him. She suckled strongly, pulling him deep, her tongue dancing up and down his shaft, teasing the sweet spot under the flared head and then swiping over it as she drew him out and took him deep again. Her purr vibrated through his cock.

  Her mouth grew hotter until he was in a tube of fire, her need to please him consuming him. Burning. Scorching. So tight like the tightest fist. Pulling strongly and then letting him go to give her talented tongue a chance to dance once more down his shaft to his sac and then back up. So greedy. She was greedy as she suckled, clamping tight to milk him.

  His cock swelled more, impossibly so, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered beyond that hot mouth robbing him of his mind, of all control. He brought both hands to her hair, on either side, guiding her, feeling the swell of his cock in the torturous glide of her mouth. He held her head still and pushed lightly with his hips, testing, making certain she could handle him.

  He held her absolutely still and thrust, his cock bumping the back of her throat. Her eyes widened in a kind of shock. Vicious pleasure burst through him, just like the starburst in those purple eyes of hers.

  He withdrew and thrust a second time, allowing the brutal burst of sensation to engulf him, to take him out of his own body and push him careening toward the edge of all control. He didn't give her much choice, but then she didn't ask for it either. She relaxed her throat and suddenly he felt the tight hot, convulsing grip and lost all control. His body jerked. His hips surged. His cock exploded, pouring his seed down her throat.

  Still, even that wasn't enough to sate his body. He had known it wouldn't be. He had known taking her any way would never be enough. He pulled out of her mouth, his eyes on her face. Her lips were swollen and there was evidence of him there. Satisfaction poured into him. His. She was his.

  Her breasts were rose colored, her nipples tight, hard buds. Her breathing came in gasps and pants and there were more diamond droplets in the curls between her legs. She leaned forward and stroked him with her tongue, lapping gently, careful of his sensitivity. She licked up his shaft and around the head, soothing this time, as if she really were a cat caring for him. Up and down his shaft, along his sac and o
ver the flared head.

  He was growing harder with every stroke, just as if he hadn't already expended seed, energy and passion.

  Chapter 10

  With one hand, Wyatt ripped his shirt off and flung it to one side. His skin felt as scorching hot as his cock. She had some kind of biochemical in her mouth, something that fed his arousal. With every lap of her tongue, she inflamed him more. The same biochemical had to be emitted through the pads of her fingers because each stroke of her hands, the touch of her fingers, made his head roar with hunger.

  He gripped her shoulders and forcefully pushed her backward to the floor. There was no give there, nothing to cushion her when he pounded into her. He stood over her as she sprawled out, her dark hair cascading around her, dark as a raven's wing, pools of it spilling in whorls, masses of silk against the old, discolored wood. Her knees were open and she started to move, to close them.

  "Don'," he instructed harshly. "Stay just like that."

  She swallowed and nodded, subsiding, allowing her knees to stay wide open to his view. He shed his boots fast and then his jeans, all the time watching the rise and fall of her breasts, pleased with the marks covering her, showing she belonged to him, especially pleased with the need spilling out between her legs, calling to him. Her scent enveloped him and he knew the same biochemical was there, wafting up to him, driving him insane with hunger, with lust.

  His mouth watered. His cock jerked, just as hard and edgy as before, the need edging on brutal. She was flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. In need. Just as hungry and inflamed as he was. Waiting for him. Desperate for him. He wanted her that way. She was the thing of fantasies. She could control men easily through sex but she would never be satisfied. He knew if he was going to keep her, she couldn't be in control of him. He needed to show her he could satisfy her always.

  He could take away the desperate hunger that built and built in her until she thought she'd lose her mind. Only him. He could match her passion for passion. Fire for fire. He could tie her to him this way and she'd never escape. She'd been so afraid of tying him to her through sex, that she had never stopped to consider it might go the other way. He'd been careful to keep that information to himself.

  He was a fucking genius, and she should have known he'd approach his claiming of her with advanced knowledge, already certain of every move. He'd studied her over the last few days, watched her, had been inside her mind. He knew exactly what to do to get her - to keep her. They could teach her every trick there was when it came to sex. They had found a woman with exceptional beauty, someone naturally sensual and appealing to men. Still, there had to be something else they'd done to her, something to make her need sex, and appeal to every man. The only real answer had to be biochemical.

  He had watched to see the cycle, knowing there had to be one. He could match the sex she needed with her cycle to leech the biochemical from her body, to maximize the output so she would have more control. He wasn't ever going to be stupid enough to tell her - or anyone else - he'd found the secret. For the first time he was grateful for the cat DNA slipped into him. His cat was fierce, feral and dominating. He could match her passion for passion.

  Without a word, he dropped to the floor, yanking her knees farther apart. She let out a gasping cry. He stared into her wide, shocked eyes, his hand cupping her sex, feeling the scorching heat. "Mine," he claimed, making it another demand. "You are mine. This is mine and I don' share well with others." He wanted to make that point over and over so if she ever went into heat without him close she would know better than to act on it.

  She swallowed hard. That wasn't enough for him. Not nearly enough. He dragged her body to his, using her legs, keeping her wide open.

  "I want the words. When I tell you somethin', you answer me."

  "I didn't realize it was a question, Wyatt," she soothed, evidently realizing he was bordering on violence. "I want to be yours. Only yours."

  "No one else ever puts their hands, their mouth or their fuckin' cock here, you got that? There's only me for you. My hands, my mouth, my cock, you got that?" He snarled it at her, allowing his feral side to slip further out. Just the thought of her with another man made him dangerous. She needed to see that and to see that he would never, under any circumstances, allow her to manipulate him using sex.

  He had hoped the wildness he'd been born and bred with combined with the enhancement of big predatory cat would make him the perfect partner for the biochemical rushing through her body. He'd been right. He could match her passion, take her all the way, drain her of the biochemical and leave her sated, even if for a small amount of time. For a woman who couldn't be sated, who always was in need, it would be everything.

  She swallowed hard, her gaze clinging to his and nodded silently. When he stared at her, his eyes beginning the change, she bit her lip and mumbled her reply. "Yes. I understand, Wyatt. Please. Please. I'm burning up."

  He didn't wait. Didn't give her any time. Her soft little plea affected him more than he ever wanted her to know. The heady scent of her, the beauty of her, sent him tumbling right over the cliff into such a heightened lust he'd never ever achieved before. He went willingly.

  He lifted her sheath to his mouth, his tongue stabbing deep right into the hot vortex of sweet, honeyed cream the cat in him needed. She screamed and nearly bucked out of his hands. He held her tight, refusing to allow her to squirm away, his hold on her rigid. The moment he put his mouth on her, tasted the exotic, hot mixture of spice and honey designed to trap a man, he knew he was lost.

  Her taste was addicting. He'd crave it for the rest of his life. Never get her out of his mouth or his mind. It didn't matter either. He devoured her, blood rushing to his groin, filling his cock to a painful, needy very relentless ache. He feasted while she dug her heels into the old wood floor and tried to writhe away, gasping for air.

  Again she bucked her hips, desperate, the sensations too much, but he refused to stop. In truth, he was already out of control, desperate to lap at the cream spilling out of her like molten gold. He gave her a warning growl, a hot, feral sound that rumbled through the small cabin, almost more beast than man as he greedily took what belonged to him.

  When she didn't - couldn't stop, his palm smacked her buttocks, a second warning. That sent more liquid gold spilling into his mouth. Her little chant, please-oh-please-oh-please, rang in his ears, a kind of music to cut through the thunder already roaring in his ears. She was ready for him, wet, hot, her body clenching and spasming, so desperate for his, but he refused to take her over the edge.

  "Wyatt." She called his name. Pleading. Her hands curled in his hair, pulled as if trying to bring his head up.

  He gave her another warning swat, caught the hot liquid reaction on his tongue even as he growled again, sending vibrations rocketing through her hot little channel. He lapped at her, plunged his tongue deep and then added his teeth, scraping against her tight, hard bud.

  She screamed, and he pulled her thighs wider apart, refusing to back off, finding the little trigger with his mouth and sucking hard as he used the flat of his tongue and the edge of his teeth. She sobbed out a plea. Bucked. He could actually feel the burst of pleasure ripping through her as he threw her into another vicious orgasm. This one was even stronger than the last, a tidal wave taking her so that she sobbed with pleasure.

  He didn't stop. As sensitive as she was, he still refused to stop. "Another," he demanded. "Give me another."

  His mouth was back on her, his fingers in her, his thumb playing her body again, driving her up fast and hard. The more he devoured, the more he craved.

  Pepper thought she might be going insane. She hadn't even known it was possible to have such intense orgasms. One right after the other. He was going to kill her if he didn't stop, and he didn't show signs of slowing down. His face was a hard mask of sensuality, harsh with passion and the need to dominate.

  "No," she gasped when he swiped his tongue through her folds and her body shuddered with pleas
ure, the aftershocks nearly as strong as the original quake.

  His head came up, a tiger scenting prey, eyes focused and fierce. "Did you just tell me no? Because your body is sayin' yes. It's screamin' yes. Don' lie to me, Pepper. You want this. You even need it, the same as me."

  "It's too much..." She trailed off, gasped and then screamed when his mouth descended again, throwing her into another vortex of sheer pleasure.

  His tongue laved and flicked her clit relentlessly, sending the flames leaping until she was so scorching hot she was certain she would spontaneously combust. She could feel the orgasm building, every bit as relentless as his wicked tongue. She thrashed, her head tossing back and forth, her hands at his shoulders, nails alternately digging into him to inflame him and then pushing at him to try to release her thighs from his merciless, iron grip.

  His mouth never stopped, until that sensitive bundle of nerve endings caught fire, a storm of flames devouring her along with his tongue and teeth. His tongue stabbed deep over and over, refusing to relent, to give her a moment to catch her breath, to stop the building of the next orgasm.

  The more she thrashed and bucked, the more his body hardened, his eyes more cat than human, his enormous strength pinning her down while he fed on her. He lifted his head slightly, licking at the droplets tangled in the curls at the junction of her legs and then followed a trail of slick heat down her inner thigh.

  Her body was damp with tiny beads of perspiration. Her silken hair was a mass of tangled curls. Her breath came in ragged little gasps and moans. He bit down, a stinging nip that drove her over the edge again, the pain/pleasure sweeping her right off the cliff before she knew she was at the precipice.

  Wyatt rose to his knees, watching her face as she rode out the wild orgasm. She looked... taken. Thoroughly taken. Her body flushed, her hair everywhere, her beautiful mouth open and her eyes wide with shock. He grasped her hips and lodged the head of his erection into that fierce inferno. She was slick - on fire - scorching hot.