Lawe's Justice (8 page)

And he thought
she
was his mate.

She almost shivered at the thought.

“You need to leave, I’m tired and I need a shower, and I can’t deal with you tonight,” she retorted, forcing herself to confront the only man she had ever fantasized about wanting in her entire life.

She was thirty years old, for God’s sake.

She’d gotten used to the accusations of being frigid, lesbian, unfeeling, robotic. They had ceased to offend or wound her long ago. In most cases, they sincerely amused her.

For the men she knew, bedding a woman was no different from hunting a particular buck with a trophy rack. They used the same instincts and often the same finesse.

But this man, he made her feel something. This Breed. He made her heart race and her body feel flushed. He made her clit swell, her nipples harden, and oh yes, she knew damned good and well he sensed it.

He was a Breed, after all. All those nifty powerful senses. The sense of smell, hearing and eyesight that was like four or five hundred times that of a normal human.

He could probably smell her pussy dampening.

His nostrils flared as she allowed her brows to arch mockingly.

Oh yes, he could smell it.

“You were late arriving from the airport,” he stated as she realized his voice was much deeper than she was used to hearing. It had been since the moment he had spoken earlier. As though the animal genetics he carried were suddenly coming alive in ways they never had before.

She shivered at the thought.

“I’m really tired, Lawe.” She didn’t have the time or the heart to engage in the battle she knew he wanted. “Can we postpone this until tomorrow?”

Exactly what “this” was she truly hadn’t figured out yet. All she knew was that if she allowed herself to take what she wanted, if she reached out and grabbed at him with both hands, she would be making a supreme mistake. One that could end up destroying her.

She didn’t want a keeper or a jailer, and that was what Lawe would become. She couldn’t bear the thought of it.

“Funny, each time we’re together and the scent of your arousal begins to fill the air, it’s suddenly cut off just as quickly,” he mused, shocking her with the comment. “How do you manage it, Diane? Give me your secret, love. Maybe then I could control my own hunger as easily.”

“I remember quickly what pricks male Breeds can be,” she informed him sharply. “Do you think for a minute I’d put up with it without shooting you? Then Jonas would have to shoot me. Rachel would probably cry—” She shrugged as though she had gone far enough.

His lips tilted in amusement. “You have it all figured out I see.”

“I like to be prepared.” Hooking her thumbs in the belt loops of her pants she continued to watch him carefully. “What’s the saying? Better safe than sorry? I must prefer nice, safe non-Breed males. They don’t hassle me near as much and let me come and go as I please.”

Oh boy, big mistake. She watched his gaze narrow dangerously.

“And how many of those non-Breed males have you preferred, Diane?” His voice dropped as he began to move closer, becoming silky and dark, seductive. He could talk a woman out of her panties with his voice alone, she thought with an edge of searing hunger. And once he turned the heat up, how the hell was she supposed to resist him?

She stood perfectly still as he moved to her. He eased between her and the wall until he stood directly behind her.

She should have run, but that would have been the same as admitting defeat. Besides, he was a Breed male—the worst thing a woman could do was run. She became the prey then. An erotic delight that Lawe would ignore.

“Does it matter?” She had to force herself to remain still as she felt his cheek brush against her hair.

“Oh, it matters.” That was definitely a growl in his voice. “More than you know.”

She definitely heard the low, dangerous snap of his teeth behind her as he finished speaking.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She gave in. She moved to jerk away, overwhelmed and unprepared for the effect he had on her.

His hands clamped on her shoulders, holding her in place as a sharp breath expelled from her lungs.

“I want to bite you, Diane,” he growled. “I want to come behind you, fill your sweet pussy with my dick and lock my teeth in the side of your neck while I feel the tremors of your release shaking through your body. Be damned careful, baby, because trust me, it would be something neither of us will recover from.” His body tightened further behind her, his hips dipping, rolling, grinding his cock against the crevice of her rear as she felt her knees weakening.

One hand fell to her hip, holding her in place as Diane tried to pull free once again, her breathing rough and uneven as pleasure began to tear through her body.

The other hand stroked from her arm to her lower belly, pushed beneath her T-shirt and between one heartbeat and the next curved around the swollen, sensitive flesh of her breast as his fingers found and began to play with a tender nipple.

“Lawe!” Breathless, thick with a sudden, overwhelming pleasure and uncertainty, her fingers gripped the wrist at her hip as she felt her breathing lock in her chest for precious seconds.

Between her thighs her pussy clenched and spilled its juices as her clit began throbbing furiously.

The need to come was screaming through her body, drawing her muscles tight as she fought to find enough sensation against her clit to send her flying into release. Maybe then she could find her control again.

This was the closest they had ever been, the most they had dared to touch. Each of them knew what mating heat would do to them, just as they knew it was there, between them, banked but ready to flare out of control.

Something was definitely flaring out of control now. Like a wildfire burning everything in its path, the sensations and the hunger for more burned away her resistance and her common sense.

“Lawe,” she whispered his name this time, the whimper of agonized arousal an indication of the heightened sensations flaring across her nerve endings. “Please. Don’t do this to me.”

She couldn’t bear the throbbing desperation any longer. No amount of tightening of her thigh muscles was easing the ache. It was beginning to pound out of control, the piercing need shattering her defenses and stealing her ability to breathe.

It was terrifying. Exhilarating. It was the most dangerous thing she could allow to happen.

“Let me show you what you’ll never find with another man, Breed or not.” Savage, fierce, he growled the words at her ear as his hand stroked from her hip to the closure of her jeans.

Tearing at the snap and zipper of her jeans until they parted and his fingers were able to push inside.

She should stop him, she knew. She should have never allowed it to go this far. She couldn’t allow herself to sink so deep into this morass of sensations.

But it was happening.

Her thighs parted as his fingers met the soft tuft of curls between her thighs.

He hadn’t kissed her. But at that moment every thought was centering on what he was doing, not on what he hadn’t done.

There were very few preliminaries, but she didn’t need them tonight. When his fingers found the saturated, sensitized slit of her pussy and the swollen folds of flesh between her thighs she wondered if she somehow lost her mind in that moment.

Because there was no way that any man’s, or Breed’s, touch could really feel this good.

She really didn’t feel sensation suddenly snapping through her body as something so far beyond pleasure tore through her senses.

A cry slipped past her lips. Rough, ragged, it was one that echoed with a building ecstasy and the need she couldn’t control.

She didn’t want to control it.

“Lawe, this is dangerous!” Her voice filled with the need for more, the fear of more, the exclamation came just as his fingers stroked around her clit, gripped it and began plumping it.

Her knees weakened as she arched into the sensually charged, erotically painful pleasure. She could barely gasp for air, the sensations were so brilliant. It was all she could do to spread her thighs farther apart. Tilting her hips closer, Diane reached back to hold on to his neck as his fingers released the tight bud, slid lower then sank inside the clenched, tight depths of her pussy.

She moaned. Her inner muscles clamped on his digits, flexed and convulsed around them.

“Feel your body milking my fingers.” The growl in his tone, animalistic and primal, had her womb clenching with pulse after pulse of erotic excitement. “That’s how you’ll grip my dick, Diane. All sweet and hot. Like a tight little fist wrapping around it and sucking my cock until I’m exploding inside you.” His fingers pushed in deep, the feel of them rough and calloused. “Until I’m pumping my come so hard inside your pussy we’re both dying from it. Locked so tight inside you we’ll wonder where one begins and the other ends.”

And she wouldn’t care.

She was so close.

She wouldn’t care where he began and she ended. All she cared about now was the pleasure and the need for release that beat inside her bloodstream like a fever.

“So silky and hot.” His fingers eased back before thrusting inside her again, hard and deep and drawing another ragged cry from her lips.

“I want to taste you, Diane.” His voice was more guttural, rougher than ever. “I want to fuck you with my tongue, taste all your sweet juices and feel you coming for me. I want to taste your pleasure until I’m drowning in you.”

“Lawe, please.” She couldn’t bear it. The need for release was growing, tightening, burning inside her until she felt as though flames were licking through her body. “Just do it, damn you.”

“Mate you?” His fingers were deep inside her, stroking, caressing, rubbing against nerve endings never touched before and too sensitive to bear it for long. “Should I mate you, Diane? Give you my kiss and let you go crazy with the heat that will fill both of us?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She moaned as reality threatened to intrude.

A whimper built in her chest as the sensations began to coalesce into a white-hot conflagration that she no longer had any control over.

She could feel her release building, feel her womb, her pussy, her clit tightening, reaching, rushing headlong into ecstasy.

“You’re mine,” he whispered at her ear as his fingers stroked, rubbed, thrusting into the clenched tissue. “My scent covers you. It’s my touch you ache for and only mine that will satisfy that sweet, hot little pussy.”

His fingers were moving harder inside her. Faster. She could feel it beginning to pour through her, like a wave rushing out of control, pounding at her, building, surging—

She wanted to scream.

“Why are you doing this?” she cried out, desperate for release as he tormented her. “Please, Lawe . . .”

“Don’t think to let another have you, Diane,” he snarled at her ear, nipped it. “Because no other will ever give you this . . .”

Harder.

His fingers fucked inside her with a rhythm that had her gasping at the savagery of the pleasure, reaching, crying out and giving herself to every white-hot sensation he unleashed inside her.

When the ecstasy hit she could do nothing but lift to him and gasp for air, her pussy clamped down on his fingers, convulsing, spilling more of her juices as she shot into her release with a power that left her spinning out of control.

She had never known anything so intense, so erotic and primal. An orgasm had never tossed her so violently into rapture, into such an ecstasy that there was no control, no denial or reality but that of Lawe and the culmination of his touch.

With Lawe, there was no way to throttle back, no way to ease anything or control it.

She was his.

Dependent upon him to remain standing and not sink to the floor.

Dependent upon him to hold her against him, to share his warmth, his heartbeat, to protect her for the few fragile moments she was defenseless and unable to protect herself.

She was dependent upon Lawe to ensure she came back to her own body after flying through space and time. To ease her past the savagery of each aftershock, to croon her name at her ear, to bring her slowly back to earth before he eased his fingers from the tight, convulsive grip of her sex.

Slumping against him as he turned her in his arms, one hand pressing her head against his chest as the sound of his heart raging in his chest beat at her ear. Beneath the furious beat a primitive male growl rumbled as a sob nearly tore from her chest.

His hold, the way he all but wrapped himself around her, the way he dared her to ever allow another’s touch, even as he gave her a pleasure she knew she would never reach without him, proved every fear she had ever had of him.

He would own her.

If she allowed it, Lawe Justice would steal every ounce of her independence, every chance of being the woman she had always fought to be.

She could be herself, or she could be his mate.

Standing in his arms she battled the tears filling her eyes.